The Irish have a ...a word ... or a saying ... or a song ... for it!

We have returned to the States after one of our top 2 trips! We are not returning empty-handed ... that extra suitcase that folds into itself came in mighty handy. Plus, I came home with a few Irish sayings. Unfortunately, I've forgotten too many of them. (Which reminds me that "too far" is an Irish affliction. And if "too far" means that they can't visit the wild and woolly West Coast of Ireland ... "too bad" is the answer!) 

Here are some of the favorites ... feel free to add your own in the comments. In the meantime, Erin Go Bragh ... and I have one final  post but it will be a few days to "settle" and take a retrospective view!

Phrases we heard ... yep, even the long ones!

May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.

May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

I could have bought it for half of nothing. 

I may not be tall but but my voice is the tallest in the room (spoken by someone encouraging another Irishman to sing). 

May the Good Lord take a liking to you,
... but not too soon!

'Tis better to buy a small bouquet
And give to your friend this very day,
Than a bushel of roses white and red

To lay on his coffin after he's dead.

We cannot share this sorrow
If we haven't grieved a while.
Nor can we feel another's joy
Until we've learned to smile.

And my absolute favorite ... given how much tea we drank during our sojourn ... 

Life is like a cup of tea,
It's all in how you make it!

A is for ...

On a particularly long drive day, the four of us talked about childhood vacations, including the games played and songs sung. It was an easy transition to creating this alphabet memorializing our holiday. Enjoy! 

A  is for ... ales, all types, all colors, many craft-brewed in the towns where we stayed. 

B is for ...  Beara, the Ring of Beara (see post!). Also for the Burran--we guessed that its name was an interpretation of the word barren since the landscape is that bleak, but instead is from the Gaelic for a rocky place.

C is for ... chips, the best of which were tasted at Fishy Fishy Cafe in Kinsale (yes, to us ... French fries). Also for the medieval castle near our hotel in Trim (the Castle Hotel, natch) where parts of "Braveheart" were filmed. It's also for the Chart House on Kinsale harbour, a lovely place to stay. And finally ... it's for all things Celtic. 

D is for ... Dublin, full of galleries, pubs, Guinness, pubs (what ... something redundant) and Trinity College. And it is for Druids ... when you're on the western coast you can nearly believe the guidebook that states ... "Druids Overlook." Yes!

E is for ... Eyreis, which is an amazing village (winning the Tidy Town award for the umpteenth year in a row) on the road that is the Ring of Beara. 

F is for ... the fascinators, which were tempting Jean and me with their artful arrangement in a Kenmare store window ... and then on the aristocratic heads at the Royal Ascot (seen on BBC1). 

G is for ... Guinness. 'Nuff said. 

H is for ... harp. The symbol of Ireland ... because of Brian Boru's harp and not because it's on a pint of Guinness. It's also for the headlands, which we saw in any number of places ... as we hugged the Atlantic coast road on many days of our drive. 

I is for ... Ireland, of course, but then Ishne Mor, the largest of the 3 "ish" islands that make up the Arran Isles. It is also for Insomnia ... no, not mine but the best name for a coffee shop ever! 

J is for ... the latecoming letter to the Gaelic language, not occurring in the original Gaelic words but used for English "loan words" such as jab. (Who knew?) 

K is for ...  Kells (the Book of  ...) at Trinity College. And also, Kinsale, Kenmare, Kerry ... all of which we will visit again. 

L is for ... Lamikins, who went with us everywhere and whose photographic journey will be captured for generations to come. (A sneak peak is included below.)* 

M is for ... Morgans ... the cars, although not made in Ireland, they were en masse at a road rally being held in Glengarriff (just before the Caha pass ... what views!). 

N is for ... the "N" roads, which are more closely aligned to "B" roads in Scotland, meaning ... not much road. Having said that, we spent more time on the L's that had four digits and if you're not careful ... with have a hyphen and 2 more digits. But John did a great job and seemed to love the Lemans feel to it all. 

O is for ... O'Casey, Sean, the great Irish dramatist. And for the other O's in Ireland (like O'Leary, for example). O's are nearly as common as Smiths in the U.S. 

P is for ...  Pale, the area of Ireland that stretches from Dublin to Drogheda, which was the area of English rule at one time or another until the mid-1920's. And it is from this that we get the expression "Beyond the pale" ... 

Q is for ... for nothing. Really. The Irish do NOT have a word for it if it must begin with a Q since there is NO Q in Gaelic. 

R is for ... rings ...  the Rings of  Beara and Kerry, stone circles ... and a few that made their way to Jean and Christine's fingers. 

S  is for ...  the scones that began nearly every morning's repast. But it also refers to the swans near the shore of the Atlantic Ocean ... just a "stone's throw" from our cottage in Ballyvaughan.  S is also for self-catering ... meaning we were in charge of the house. We managed to cook some meals in ... however tempting it was to eat out 3 times a day. It's also for Irish silver ... highly addictive. 

T is for ... Trim ... our last stop on our interary. Not the most lyrical of names but clearly the most luxurious of all our stays. Also the place that tied up all the "loose ends" of the trip and sent us home with a warm, loving feeling. 

U is for ... Ulysses ... the best of James Joyce's writings as far as the car was concerned. 

V is for ... the soccer/football match of England v. Scotland, the first one played on Irish soil in 20 years ... due to the escapades of the English hooligans in 1995. 

W is for ... Wilde, Oscar, perhaps the greatest humorist of all time ... and certainly the greatest produced by Ireland. Ireland tends to produce two types of writers ... and individuals .. those who interject humor into everything (I cite you our cab drivers) and those who are filled with angst. And wool ... of course. I capitulated and bought an Arran sweater. Expect a mild winter now, my friends. And the Wild Atlantic Way ... read about it ... it was amazing. 

X is for ... Guinness EXtra Stout (yes we know that's reaching, if not downright cheating). 

Y is for ... Yeats, William Butler. The country was celebrating the 150th anniversary of his birth (no, didn't know this before we left home) and I loved that. Not sure about the other 3 but they humored me. 

Z is for ...  Zebra crossings. Not pronounced like the animal (not as the US pronounces it at any rate) and a left-over from England but an efficient way to cross busy streets. But be sure to look the proper .way .... right, left, right. It's always a surprise when the car comes up on the right ... 

*In a few weeks, there will be a proper travelogue based on Lamikins' journeys ... she's been to the Guinness storehouse, ridden the boat to the Cliffs of Moher ... to name just two of the close to 100 places where she's been photographed. The photo below was taken from our third floor open air veranda, across from the castle in Trim. John and Jean's skills are easily seen as Lamikins (slightly worse for the wear after 2 weeks of  traveling) is pictured as the Lord of her Castle ... with the castle in the background. 

A bird cannot fly on only one wing --Part 2

Few things seem as strictly Irish as their dancing, singing, and music. (But even as I write it ... I realize that the Irish search for their own nation was based on the fact that everything about their culture ... music, language, camaraderie ... is strictly Irish. Their food might be the sole exception  ... leaning toward England a bit but their emphasis on seafood puts even their food in a separate category.) 

Along the way, we'd heard bits and pieces of Irish music ... and Jean and I had insisted on buying a CD to play as we toured the Ring of Beara. But our "boyos" weren't all that interested in music and so it quickly moved to the bottom of the list. In reading about Trim, I found that they had some of the oldest and finest pubs in the country ... and a quick conversation with the "publican" (hint: in the States we call him the bartender!) gave us two or three pubs that had Irish musicians. Again ... neither Rob nor John seemed interested but Jean and I were definitely independent enough to state that we were going anyway. After a lovely "last meal" (you can't count "gas station" food although it is a bit like Italy where they have full-service meals at their petrol stops) ... John continued to opt out but Rob decided to come with us.

We appreciate his company as we walked the mile or so to the pub. There was not a soul on the downtown (city centre!) sidewalks. I was despairing of hearing Irish music close-up when we heard a melancholy tune wafting over the cobblestone sidewalk (pavement). Our destination, the James Griffin, exuded all the energy that was missing from the city streets. As we stepped inside, it seemed that most of Trim was there ... and while the ages ranged from 20 to 80 ... "our" age group was well-represented. The pub itself was nearly 150 years old ... and was the crooked little pub you would expect with rooms added to the original (the "new rooms" with only 100 years behind them). Cozy, lots of conversations, and smiles everywhere. 

Jean found 3 little stools not in use so we tucked ourselves into a corner ... no tables available, of course! The publican found us quickly ... as Becky pointed out ... Jean does tend to get noticed. She also earns the respect of all with her caring manner and ability to draw people out on their favorite subject ... Ireland. So the young boyo was with us immediately taking our drink orders. While even Ireland has not converted me to a beer drinker, I have loved their cider, which is quite potent and needs to be enjoyed carefully. However, besides tasting good, it has the same color as most of the lagers, which helps me blend into the crowd a bit! (And while I'm not a huge fan of white wine ... it was the one wine that I saw imbibed in the pubs of Ireland.The other odd choice ... to us ... is the Irish fondness for Coors Light. And Coors are masterful marketers ... in looking for "free coasters" to take home to a couple of friends ... all we saw that evening were Coors! Rob tried the craft beers throughout the land but always came back to a Guinness Stout .. Extra Stout!) 

We'd told ourselves that we'd just stay for a song or two ... but then the music began and we were carried away to a far distance ("Far and Away") time in Ireland. We listened to an entire set and then, when the "group" broke (3 of them ... seated in the opposite corner for us ... one on a banjo ... sometimes a mandolin; one on a concertina ... sometimes a flute ... and one on a guitar ... also the lead singer), they headed right towards us. We assumed that Jean was the beacon but they wanted to talk with Rob and me ... we must look the most "States" to them although they did politely ask where we were from ... as if the answer was anything but the States. 

The lead singer, Terry Lynch, was a bit shy and spent some time shuffling his feet but it was clear that he wanted to converse. After we spoke for about 10 minutes ... and it was time for him to return to his singing ... he said "You have made my evening." I said ... "No, no ... that's ours to say."  After being introduced to Jean, btw, he did ask if she wanted to hear any John Denver. She just laughed and said she preferred the Irish music. 

If you have been reading this blog long enough, you're likely getting used to its title ... me, too. But when the group started singing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" ... my heart just froze ... could they really be singing it? None of the other tunes were so recognizable ... plus it was relatively late in the evening (we stayed until closing ... which in Ireland is early ... 11:30) so I did feel like it was fate. Others may scoff but the moment could not be spoiled. And later, when a young Irish lass, whom they seemed to know, approached with her flute and led them through the most sorrowful rendition of Danny Boy that I've heard, I knew that my initial instincts were right: magical, simply magical. 

So yes, my quest for true Irish music was complete. I would have gone home with a heart full of memories with or without Terry Lynch but oh, it was so much more appropriate to the Irish experience. On the other hand, just when I thought the evening couldn't get any better ... an older man ... guessing 75 or so ... from the audience ... began to sing. As first a few joined in but then, recognizing the power and beauty of his voice, the entire bar fell quiet. When he was done ... the men were wiping their eyes, I was a puddle, and the clapping would have raised the dead. He seemed a bit surprised but just nodded. Then another younger man began ... "Paul ... we need one more." Paul just shook his head. The musicians then joined in on the plea ... but no, nothing more from Paul. Finally the young man who first spoke up said, "Paul ... to leave us without a second song ... well, that would be like a bird who cannot fly on only one wing." And so Paul acceded to the request and finished off the evening for us in finest Irish form ... and although I only recognized bits and pieces of the music ... Jean recorded it and so we will try to find it for the video/photo book that she is putting together. 

I have a few concluding posts about Ireland ... as the Irish might say, "Surely and again ... this canna' come as a great surprise to ya'." But as you can see, we finished out the Irish experience with an evening that we are not likely to repeat no matter how often we return.  

A bird cannot fly on only one wing~~Part 1

Our last nights in Ireland. It would be so easy to become overly sentimental at this point. Although being sentimental has its time and place ... and trust me, the beauty of this country elicited more than one tear of joy during our two weeks here. Sometimes I felt so grateful for the opportunity that another tear would fill my eyes ... so yes, let's hear it for being overly-sentimental. 

The final two days began much as any other. Sitting around the breakfast table ... being waited on by Jean, Rob, or John. I am not sure how that evolved but as someone who almost always feels the need to jump in and take charge, I have learned to push down those feelings and enjoy the holiday! 

But once we finished breakfast and stepped outside of our Ballyvaughan cottage, any similarity to the days before this one ended. Weather, always a topic of conversation in Ireland, had looked favorably upon us. In fact,  the only rain we'd experienced was that which marked the deaths of the Irish students. This morning, however, it alternated between rain and mist ... and even though the sun broke through somewhere between Galway and Dublin, we all found it fitting that, as we traveled eastward, our final look at the seascapes were through clouds of mist. It seemed much more Irish than the sun-filled days ... as grateful as we were for them. 

After reaching the M7, we tore across the mid-section of Ireland, driving to the Castle Trim Hotel. The GPS told us to exit too early but John was okay with the detour, even if he was now driving the back alleys that hold themselves out as R roads, albeit four digit ones. John admitted that he was already missing those tiny roads and was happy to drive them one last time. 

Our last stop was Trim in County Meath. It's on the Boyne River ... famous in Irish history for its battles (the river, that is). It turned out that the Castle (right across from the Castle Hotel ... imagine that) was famous for many battles, too ... the last of which was its role in Braveheart (yes, the Mel Gibson movie), where its four sides represented four different castles! 

We were prepared to dislike Trim after all the charming villages we'd visited over the past two weeks. It was chosen because it had a relatively well-reviewed hotel, 45 minutes from the Dublin airport. But we were wrong ... we ended up loving Trim as much as any place we'd stayed--starting with the fact that the hotel felt like a five-star ... a luxury hotel with tons of amenities for $90 a night, including a "full Irish breakfast." 

We arrived in time for our final pub lunch ... and after that, John, Jean, and Rob went to explore the castle, while I begged off to get a head start on wrangling the clothes back into the suddenly-too-small luggage.  (Somehow the woolen goods from the Arran Isles had taken sole possession of our suitcases!) I finished my wrangling and went off to do some last minute shopping (of course!). Having fairly well invested in Ireland's silver market, I used some of the late afternoon to shop for ordinary clothes ... something non-tourist like. (Yes, of course, I was successful!) 

As Jean was out-and-about, she found this written on a "sandwich board" in front of a pub. A quick bit of background ... everywhere we went, the Irish apologized for their Irish "winter:"

Winter, I am breaking up with you. 
I want to see other seasons. 
Particularly Summer. He's hot. 

God love the Irish and their gift of gab ... and their way with words of any kind! 

Yet to come ... our last evening enjoying Irish music ... the Irish alphabet ... Celebrating 150 years since William Butler Yeats' birth. But for now ... good night all. 



.  

Tears of Heaven

Last night the wind howled and the rain tore at the windows of our little cottage as if they, too, wanted to rent their garments with grief. While today's weather eventually "brightened"--the flag of Ireland, throughout the land, continues to fly at half-staff to honor its "children" who died in the horrific tragedy in Berkeley. It reminds us of how precious life is ... for all ages ... but that the mourning is much more intense when we grieve for the unrealized potential of such bright young people. 

50 Shades of Green

Yes, it's a sneaky knock-off of the book/movie title, especially since none of this will be sexy at all! But it is an apt title for all of the different shades of green. When we left Lincoln, it was as green as we have ever seen it and yet, the lushness back home could not hold a candle to the varieties of plants, trees, hedges, and hedge rows painted in so many beautiful shades of green. Around every bend in the road, and oh-my there were bends, the beauty of Ireland was revealed.  I look forward to updating this blog with photos once we are all home. Jean and/or John (mostly Jean) were the trip photographers.

By the by, the other quintessential bit of Ireland that waited around many bends were the sheep. The BMW we rented could stop on a dime, which was good since that's how much lead time we had. Sheep are everywhere. They are "branded" by paint. A paint brush full: different colors for different flocks.And speaking of differences in sheep --the sizes differ and the face markings differ but that was just the beginning of the differences!  The face markings were intriguing ... some looked like Kiss! Then there are the black sheep. They are seldom seen but when spotted are oh so cute.

Back to the greenery ... Jean and I agreed that the most intriguing green is nearly a chartreuse  color! It was gorgeous and found on well kept hedges! Look for it when the photos are uploaded. 

We did feel like tourists as we kept repeating ... it's so green, it's so green! And so natural. And unlike many tourists, we didn't find many golf courses ... but I imagine that they were the greenest of all! (The one we did find was a links course, next to the Atlantic ... wind might have been a factor. Just perhaps! And it was over 300 Euro to play. So we counted ourselves lucky that we weren't playing ... as Jean and I made a mental note of what we could buy with the 300 Euro saved! 

Errata ...

We were finishing up our breakfast in Ballyvaughan (toast, jam, scones, and tea ... of course), when we started discussing the wild and wooly boat ride to the Cliffs of Moher. Apparently everyone was surprised that I didn't get sick since the sailors among us (John & Jean) were near the "edge." Suddenly I realized what I forgot to say yesterday ... thank you, Patsy Martin, for the recommendation on Bonine--a one pill anti-sickness miracle. It worked like a charm and I avoided the humiliation of hanging my head over the boat rail. 

Instead, as Rob and I stood on the prow (bow?) of the boat ... humming "my heart will go on and on" (nods to Kristen and Nate!) ... we were able to see many of the 7000 (yes, 7000) puffins that roost along the Cliffs of Moher. That alone made the entire trip worthwhile. 

And another apology ... we are apparently in County Clare. Aach ... will they be forgiving me now for the mistake? (And then another several sentences because the Irish never stop at one!) 

We leave to drive across Ireland today ... heading back toward Dublin and, eventually, the airport. Erin Go Bragh! 

Today ... the Cliffs of Moher

Well, we decided that we'd purchased enough wool from the Arran Isles to last us for several years ... so we opted for the boat trip that took us to the FOOT of the Cliffs of Moher. Whoa ... what a day. Whoa ... what a ride. You leave (mark this down should you be tempted once you see the pictures of us having survived the boat ride!) from a town called Doolin. It was, as we laughingly say about every new venture, a "stone's throw" from Ballyvaughan. It was a 45 minute drive on something called the "corkscrew" that reminded us all of a Disney ride with a similar name. Meeting buses on roads that are "N" or below is just craziness ... with a lot of "whoa's" from all of us. And we were on roads that were labeled L ... with four numbers after the L. (We have not yet ventured onto the L road's with four numbers, then a hyphen, then two more numbers. We are not one whit curious. It kills the cat!) 

We arrived in Doolin about 11:30, in time to buy tickets for the 12:00 boat ride to the foot of the Cliffs. It looked a little choppy as we approached the pier ... but we had NO idea what our tickets had purchased!! Let's just say ... that while all four of us remained relatively dry and sea-sick FREE ... over 2/3 of the 60 passengers were not as lucky. The waves washed over the side of our little boat ... and the water ran down the aisles for those who were inside. The four of us were at the back ... er, the aft ... and we were clearly more fortunate. Lots of fresh air ... although we did get soaked!! It was a 20 minute boat ride out through the Atlantic waves until the boat turned toward the Cliffs. Oh my ... I hope Jean's pictures turn out to describe the Cliffs. I had tears in my eyes. Some of the tears may have been from the smells emanating from the rookeries .... but seriously, it was an amazing sight and one that I would do again and again ... braving all inclement weather.

The crew were so grateful that some of the passengers were actually enjoying the Cliffs that they invited us to the front ... er ... the bow ... for the journey home. (Many fewer waves ...) I felt a tad bit like I was in the "Titanic" but, once you see the pictures of me and my gigantic hair (sea water, humidity ... likely 3 times the normal volume!), you won't mistake me for Kate Winslett! 

Titanic footage

Yesterday ... saying goodbye to the Rings ...

We left Kenmare after a leisurely breakfast and what was clearly the best "self-catering" house of the trip. Our goal was to reach the area around the Cliffs of Moher known as the Burran to put up our  camp in the lovely bayside town of Ballyvaughan before darkness set in. The Burran is akin to "An American Werewolf in London" terrain. And we all know what happens to those out on the moors after dark. 

On the way to County Cork we passed through some of the Ring of Kerry and all agreed that our time was better spent at the Ring of Beara (much less commercialized, plus we only saw a bus or two). Still ... we needed more time so have decided that next time we will fly into Shannon and spend more time on the Irish west coast: the Wild Atlantic Way, which we will leave behind us on Thursday when we head for Trim ... on the last stop before we return to the States ... leaving a bit of our hearts behind us in Ireland. 

We drove as far north as Galway Bay ... but not to Galway. We are on the bucolic south side of the bay ... with the working city of Galway across it to the north. Ballyvaughan ... pronounced with 4 syllables (think about how that works!) ... is a great place for exploring the northwest area of County Cork. It was also one of the homes of W.B. Yeats ... but more on that another post. 

The drive was arduous ... because we wanted to do a part of the Ring of Kerry and also travel down to Dingle. What might have been a 3 to 3 1/2 hour road trip was easily doubled by our ambitious itinerary.  It was so ambitious that after we drove through the edge of the Burran yesterday, I wondered if we would ALL stay awake (including our driver!) until we reached our lodgings. But make it we did ... with many laughs along the way ... as was true each day of the journey. 

Everyone has cooperated in the drive ... Jean and I mostly keeping our comments to ourselves in the back seat but sometimes we just had to enter into the discussion. We have laughed when roundabout exits were lost, when the roads seem to disappear from where they had been "signposted" ... and, most importantly, we have provided wine to the weary driver and navigator at the end of the day. 

BUT ... yesterday must have been particularly difficult because, in the middle of the night, I awoke from a horrible dream wherein John had resigned as the official driver. He drives our somewhat large BMW a bit too fast for my taste ... but he never forgets what side of the road we're on so who could ask for anything more. Luckily, morning dawned ... finally grey and misty compared to the last 10 days of sunshine ... and all was well with the world. 

A funny thing happened on the way to the ... Ring of ...

We were nearly packed and ready to leave for the Ring of Kerry when our gracious landlady stopped by the townhome to see if we needed anything. No, we reply proudly. We are ready to tackle the Ring of Kerry. Aach, she says. And why are you thinking of the Ring of Kerry ... what about Dingle or the Ring of Beara. 

I explained that we were headed to Dingle on Monday but today was reserved for the Ring of Kerry. John then asked her how she would rate the three peninsulas ... 1st, she says, is the Ring of Beara, 2nd is Dingle, and 3rd and a "walking from behind but can't catch up" is the Ring of Kerry. She then explained that because it has no tourists ... it can be done in 2 to 3 hours. 

We all felt that right about following her advice ... particularly John, who had read that the Ring of Kerry could take upwards of 8 hours. It was most definitely the right choice .... and Jean's pictures will "beara" me out at some point (ouch). However, we left at 10:00 and rolled into the townhouse's garage at 6:00 p.m. I wonder what time we would have been home from the Ring of Kerry? Estimating midnight! 

It is true: along the way we took some time out for tea; talked with several of the locals in the handful of towns that we passed; considered taking a tram to Dursey Island but decided against it since we wouldn't be back to the mainland until 7:00; noshed on some "chips;" had a delightful conversation with a young lad of 10 (ALL of the Irish can converse ... it is their national pastime); stopped in Eyeries for a lunch that would put anything in NYC to shame; and, thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. 

The four of us are opting for a nice dinner at the townhouse ... we needed to soak up as much of its ambience as possible ... and so Jean & I ran into the local Super Valu for some chicken. Although the store was open ... everything inside was closing or was closed up. (Deli, butcher's case, etc.) We found something we both liked but again ... closed up. So I went to the front of the store to explain my dilemma to a clerk. She couldn't help us ... nope, couldn't get it out of the case. So back I went to explain it to Jean ... then I said, Hmm ... something she said made me wonder ... can we open this case from the front? 

As we were looking for a handle to the counter's front, we realized simultaneously that the case was already OPEN. We were still giggling at our ineptitude by the time we reached the "men." Oh, Jean and I have had such laughs on this trip. We are definitely bonding over the silliest of them. 

Stay tuned for pictures AFTER I'm home ... but here is a map of where we were today. Gorgeous scenery ... the best I've seen outside of Norway .. and, given the solitude and serenity. perhaps the best! 

We are now enjoying a glass of Prosecco ... slainte. 

Just a stone's throw from here ... in fact, it's so close you could hit it with that stone ...

.... but don't because you might break a window. TWO people gave that same advice to Jean as she was getting directions to our most recent "self-catering" abode. We are now safely ensconced in it ... and another lovely townhouse. Three bedrooms (one is being used to open all the luggage!) and four baths ... we are going to stay here through Christmas. But unfortunately, no ... we will push onto the Cliffs of Moher eventually.

Today was spent traveling from Kinsale to Kenmare via the Atlantic Coastal Highway. It added a significant amount of time to the journey but we wouldn't have changed one minute of it for the amazing views ... first of the ocean and then, as we drew closer to Kenmare, we went over the Caha Pass, where I spent some time moving away from the window and the sheer drop-offs. But once again, John came through with sterling driving although even he was exhausted by the time we reached Kenmare.

Speaking of sterling ... another stop that added quite a bit of time to the journey was at the Kinsale Silver Shop. Jean had read about it back in the States ... and while John and Rob just shook their heads in mock agony ... Jean and I managed to find "just the right thing" for ourselves, family, and friends. We also strolled across the street and found a darling apron for Sabrina ... one that she can wear as she and her mom bake in their new house ... because yes, they are in it!! It is a beautiful house ... far more room, as Becky points out, than their little family needs. On the other hand, plenty of room for visitors, which the extended family needs!

And, if you remember back to one of the first blog entries, going to Kenmare was prompted by a picture of the Kenmare bookshop that my dear friend Marsha took nearly 20 years ago. As we drove into town, the first thing we noticed was the bookshop. So we were "home." A touch of familiarity goes a long ways when you are going to be on the road for 2 weeks.

We explored the town and the harbour after dinner last night ... because it's barely dark by 10:30. I understand why ... but it continues to surprise me ... as does the sunrise ... by 5:00. It provides plenty of time for us to explore ... which we are about to do. If you don't hear from me again ... look for us somewhere on the Ring of Kerry. Happy Sunday!

Sometimes I forget that I'm driving ...

As I have mentioned, driving on the right side of the road is not for the weak hearted. (Nor is riding with someone who is new to the process, I assure you!) John is a terrific driver ... and has done an excellent job of getting us from place to place. But today ... today we went adventuring with no true goal in sight ... just to drive and see some of the countryside around Kinsale. Within an hour, we realized that Kinsale WAS the destination spot and we had no need to drive around the countryside. Kinsale was voted one of the 10 prettiest towns in Ireland and a quick peek at some of the surrounding towns emphasized why Kinsale won! So today we spent more time hanging out in the harbour (it's harbour in Ireland ... in case you think I added that extra "u" by mistake), shopping in lovely boutique stores, and having a late lunch at the Fishy Fishy Cafe. 

The Fishy Fishy Cafe is well known here in Ireland and in England because the chef/owner, Martin Shanahan, has his own television show (think Bobby Flay or Gordon Ramsay) in the UK and in Ireland. We were impressed. None of us hold ourselves out as foodies ... especially when it comes to seafood ... but when the presentation takes your breath away (and the Euros fly right out of your pocket) you are generally in for a treat. And it was. So put Fishy Fishy on your list for when you are anywhere in County Cork ... and book yourself a place to stay in Kinsale for a minimum of a week! 

 Fishy Fishy

As for the subject heading ... well, despite all the accolades that I can pile on both Rob and John for their driving and navigating ... John managed to scare me a bit today when he said, "I'm getting the hang of this. For the first few days, I would forget that I was the driver." What? Really? How? Both he and Rob have crawled into the passenger side of the car when they are driving ... with plenty of razzing about that. And yes, along with driving on the right side of the road ... the driver sits on the right side!

Tomorrow we head out to Kenmare ... and from there, the Ring of Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula (separate days!). We look forward to being on the road again but will miss our home away from home at the Chart House on the Kinsale harbour.  

Cionn tSaile ... ah, the Irish do have a way with words ...

Cionn tSaile ... Gaelic for Kinsale, where we four have fallen in love with the views ... from every window of the house that we rented and from every window in the car as John drove up and down lanes that were little more than ruts--single track roads. Jean has become the official photographer for the trip ... and thus I'll have pictures for a lifetime once we're home. Her diligent work leaves me with time to soak up the wild beauty that is Ireland on this southern coastal city, where the Vikings invaded and then stayed and where the Jacobites tried to wrench control of Ireland from the English and failed ... the first of many "risings." 

Speaking of freedom from the Brits ... next year will be a banner year for Ireland and, if you can bear the crowds ... the same for the tourists. It was in 1916 that the Easter Rising occurred ... the proclamation that Ireland was to be free from England. Although I need to know more about Ireland's history, I do know that it was bloody one ... over 300 Irish were killed and nearly 20 of the leaders were executed after the cease fire. The execution will be part of the events that will be re-enacted in Dublin. Politics are the lifeblood of any Irishman (or woman), it would appear. All commendable but again, I don't know enough to comment any further ... but plan on doing a lot of reading once home! 

Returning to a more serene topic: the views of Kinsale. Our "walkabout" (in the car!) this morning was eye-opening. We have seen the green of Ireland and understand now why it is so famous. Sheep in the meadows ... cattle in the fields ... and views of the Atlantic Ocean from the headlands of Kinsale that made me want to weep for their beauty! At one point, Jean had pushed our driver once too often about stopping (looking first to see that there no cars around ... until we were on a single-track road, of course!) ... so she said, "For Pete's sake, STOP. This is the Ireland we came to see." To which Rob said: "Is there a Guinness around somewhere?" (Always the witty one our Robert. And a worthy note: as Tammy cautioned us ... here in Kinsale, it is the local craft beers that rule the day ... not Guinness!) 

We also visited Fort Charles, named for King Charles I. A star-shaped fort, it might have been a mere footnote in our travelogue ... but for the gracious woman who made each of us a cup of tea or hot chocolate. She had lived in NYC and missed it ... so she and Rob struck up a conversation. They discussed the prices for real estate ... high. Then she offered that you could have purchased a house "for half of nothing" 20 to 30 years ago. The Irish and their turn of phrase ... it's amazing and wonderful. As a parting gift, she gave us a jar of the homemade jam we'd had with our scones ... and wouldn't take a farthing ...er Euro ... for it. 

In the afternoon, Jean and I begged for a little shopping time. And a little was all that we received. So tomorrow we plan on driving to a local country fair ... about 20 minutes from Kinsale. I have great expectations of perfect gifts for those friends who are helping us out ... including checking our house for water, given the monsoons that Lincoln continues to experience. 

In fact, as our day wound down ... as we sat on the sofas, sipping wine and discussing those weather-related issues, a text message popped up from our neighbor Gloria, offering to check on our house. We jumped at her gracious offer ... and when she returned, she'd met our dear friend Linda, who was also checking out the house. "Dry as a bone," Gloria reported. And thus, within 5 minutes, we were updated on the state of the pond (high, very high) and the lower level of our house (dry, very dry) ... and were grateful for friends like Linda and Gloria and the ability to "talk" in real time via texting! 

Take a deep breath ... of reality ...

... well, dear friends ... as I've been crafting these little messages to you, it occurred to me that you might (but you'd be wrong!) think that every day has been Paradise. Our travel days are always a lot of fun ... and now we have double the fun, accompanied by John and Jean. And for me ... not having to drive OR read the map certainly makes the travel in Europe far less stressful. But ... I do have a tendency to lose things ... as many of you know ... or at least misplace them ... and this trip is no exception. No exception at all. Although, as my mom is wont to say ... "Nothing is truly lost. It just hasn't been found yet." And the last day in Dublin was no exception to her rule. But again ... I get ahead of myself. 

We are sharing all expenses with J&J ... and Jean is the recorder of it all. John, Rob, and I get out our credit cards (oh, don't even get me started on the need for a chip in our credit cards ... but we were ready this time!) and pay for things in a non-orderly fashion ... knowing that Jean will sort it at the end of the trip! 

So when I reached for my credit card after dining at one of the "posher" restaurants--and couldn't find the card anywhere ...  I didn't exactly panic although Rob did. (He knows me too well.) But, after nearly emptying my purse on the table of this posh restaurant (so very ladylike of me!), it was clear that there was no credit card to be had. 

The conversation went downhill in a hurry! Ha. It went something like ... "WHERE is it?" (Rob) "If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation?!" (Me :)). After wasting some time in this vein ... Rob wanted to walk back to our hotel (probably a 20 minute hike) to look for the card while the rest of us went onto the Guinness Storehouse. Several more minutes of me insisting that it should be I who went back to look ... Rob arguing that I would get lost (me, becoming very indignant at such an aspersion ... ha). Then we started talking about where I'd used it last ... which, as I alluded to ... was difficult to pinpoint since paying was so haphazard. Finally we decided it was the pub ... and that I should stop there if I were returning to the hotel. And then the light bulb went on ... before Hugo's, I'd been at the gift store attached to the National Museum of Archeology (of course I'd been at a gift store ... has there ever been a museum gift store that I've missed?).  The clerk (pronounced "clark" here, of course) took my card away to fill out the VAT forms (so yes, more than just a few pencils were purchased!) ... and I had no recollection of getting it back! 

In the meantime, Jean had been in the lower level of the restaurant, making a call back to the States ... and she'd missed the whole exchange!! She said later than when she emerged, she was surprised to find us gone. We were tearing back to the gift store, throwing instructions at John to wait on the corner where one would turn to go to the Museum. John wasn't sure that he would know the corner ... but Jean is like a very tall, good-looking google map app and I knew she would. And yes, of course the answer was that the credit card was still at the Museum ... in an envelope with my name on it. And, being Irish, they were incredibly apologetic ... despite the fact that all parties knew that it was my fault and my fault alone!! 

I'd say that all's well that ends well ... but we have 8 days left for me to lose my card. I'm bound to succeed at some point! 

So on that optimistic note ... I bid you g'night. We had an awesome day in Kinsale today ... but more on that anon ... or ...  later tonight if I can't sleep. We start early tomorrow because we're going to a market in a nearby small village ... and expect great finds. 

Down the Country ...

Aah .... we made it! A huge thank you to the "boyos" ... who between them drove and navigated us from Dublin to Kinsale. Our cabbie, who took us to our luxurious rental car, explained that Kinsale is at the "bottom of Ireland." (And, while on the subject of rental cars ... John ... what were you thinking when you rented a a 5 series BMW? We generally get a Vauxhall or something smaller ... oh, that's right .. there IS nothing smaller than a Vauxhall.) 

But yes, Kinsale IS at the bottom of Ireland and a challenging day's drive when paired with a stop at the Rock of Cashel (but a great stop).  Kinsale is just south of Cork--if you are looking for it and are near a map. It was our cabbie who reminded me that there is Dublin ... and then there is "down the country" AKA the rest of Ireland! Our cabbie was excited about our "aggressive" itinerary, which he deemed "comprehensive even for Americans."

And then he told us that most Irish suffer from something called "too far." I said ... I'll bite ... and he replied that it's when you ask an Irishman if he wants to go Waterford and he says, "Ah, no ... too far... We'll have to stop at Wexford." Of course, within seconds, I'd forgotten the inside joke so proceeded to ask him if he'd been to Kinsale and he just laughed and said, "Too far." But I got him later when he asked us if we were going to Northern Ireland and I quickly replied "too far." 

But returning to Kinsale ... which we will likely do again and again ... it's that beautiful ... Kinsale is a picturesque town on the Atlantic so we are excited to take a "harbor sail" tomorrow as long as the weather holds. And yet another digression: have I mentioned the weather yet? No? Well, it's only because the weather has been amazingly perfect. NO rain (yet ... but it will come, we're sure of it) and moderate temperatures in the low 60's every day. During the next few days we will drive the Ring of Kerry, Dingle Peninsula, and (close to) the Cliffs of Moher ... so I do hope that the weather holds for those more exciting drives.

This day, today, was tough enough. It always is when getting used to driving on the right side of the road. I know because I am usually the driver but this time, I'm more than content to sit in the lap of luxury and chat with Jean about this, that, and the other thing--the other thing always being the most interesting, of course. 

Our vacation rental is a large two-bedroom, two-bath HOME ... with a gourmet kitchen, living room, sun porch ... and a fireplace that we will likely use tomorrow night! The best part ... commanding views of the harbor. The second best part is that it is costing each couple less than $70 a night! Tomorrow night we plan on staying in ... the Prosecco is chilling and the spaghetti sauce is simmering. Not really on the latter ... but we did find a jar of it that we're anxious to try. 

So thanks again for coming along with me, dear reader ... it's nice to hear from some of you that you're enjoying the blog. It is our one regret ... that we can't have more of our family and friends with us!!

All illuminating ...

If you haven't read "How the Irish Saved Civilization," you really should. On Monday we saw the primo example of how they did it: the Book of Kells.

The Book of Kells is housed at Trinity College here in Dublin so we also were able to tour the grounds and the library ... both of which were amazing and came in a close second to viewing the Book of Kells. The book itself is an illuminated manuscript of the four Gospels. The monk credited with copying the Gospels and then illuminating the manuscript worked his entire life on this one "project." We who love to multi-task cannot fathom such commitment to one and only one idea, can we? 

We are enjoying getting to know Dublin, getting lost less, and finding shortcuts as we wend our way home from one adventure after another! Yesterday we decided to go for the "overview" of the city and rode the "hop on, hop off" bus for its entire circuit ... not hopping anywhere! The pub we chose for dinner was the downside to our first day where we had finally acclimated to the time change. John and I tend to order the same thing ... all great minds, I guess. And so we were both disappointed in our first true "Irish stew." But we have plenty of nights to make up for it. We started tonight when we opted for an authentic Italian meal ... in an obscure, hidden location frequented mostly by locals. 

Today (Tuesday, June 9 .... happy birthday to Tammy!) we combined some high-brow and low-brow activities. The high brow was visiting the National Museum of Archeology where we explored room after room of how the Irish "grew up" in the last 4000 years (pictures when I get to a "real" computer ... Rob's!). We went primarily to see a special exhibit on the impact of the Vikings' art and tool-making on Ireland. As we strolled around, it seemed that every other person was from Norway. I guess that it's not that far to come to read/see your history. After the museum, we headed to a lovely restaurant ... Hugo's ... which would go to the head of my list on any return trip to Ireland. 

The "low brow" was the Guinness "storehouse" where, after visiting 7 floors of exhibits, I can tell you exactly how to pour and then drink a Guinness. It was fun ... especially Level 7, which had sweeping views of Dublin from its floor-to-ceiling, corner-to-corner windows. We all had a good time ... even if we didn't learn that much about brewing. John and Jean live in the mountains next to Golden, CO, so we've all been to the Coors Brewery a time or two! 

Tomorrow Part 2 of the adventure begins as we drive (John drives!) to County Cork and the harbor town of Kinsale. More anon ... 

Please don't judge us by tonight's goings on ...

... such were the words uttered by our host at our downtown hotel, where we are staying
in the thick of what IS going on. Today turned out to be a rather momentous one in Dublin--a landmark date in the annals of soccer. The Ireland national team took on England in Aviva stadium ... a soccer venue just outside of Dublin. It was England's first visit to Ireland in twenty years ... that's how badly everyone behaved the last time they were here! 

But I'm getting ahead of myself ... because first there was the taxi ride into Dublin. It was about a 15 minute drive but our cabby was enjoying himself so much that it turned into 30 minutes. We were so mesmerized by his conversation that we didn't mind the overcharge. He peppered his diatribe on unions,  presidents of the U.S., prime ministers/presidents of Ireland, and the City Council with an amazing vocabulary: ameliorate and Machiavellian to  name but two. And his Irish brogue just enhanced the lyricism of the conversation. 

After dropping our luggage at the hotel, we wandered for 30 minutes looking for a highly recommended breakfast place: Queen of Tarts ... fabulous. It was well worth the hunt although it wasn't really that far from the hotel ... a 15 minute walk home. Ah, the joys of learning one's way around a new city! 

As we emerged from the restaurant ... we had our first hint that something was different on this Sunday. There were police, the Garda, located on each street corner. As the day progressed, the number of police increased tenfold. Soon paddy wagons were situated on Temple Bar street ... a stone's throw from our hotel. Then came the police dogs ... then the mounted police. 

We were still scratching our heads over the host's comment ... but then Rob and I stopped for his first Guinness on the auld soil. There we found all the customers fully engaged in the soccer match and understood our host's warning. The "hooligans" were expected to be alive and well in Dublin following the match. As it turned out the soccer match was a draw but, according to Rob, our expert on soccer ... that was not the issue ... the amount of alcohol that was being consumed was more the issue. And the number of English visitors who were more interested in brawling than enjoying the pubs of Dublin was also part of the issue. 

None of the Garda's precautions got in the way of our exploring Dublin. It is a vibrant city ... with the long reach of England still present in the architecture of the city ... from the old Parliament building through the Georgian townhouses that line the river Liffey. 

We concluded our day with the best Italian food we've had outside of Italy ... and then went back to our hotel to watch the streets from the safety of our rooms. But, by all accounts, the so-called hooligans were much better behaved than in 1995 and contented themselves to singing and swaying their way around the Temple Bar area. 

All in all, a memorable welcome to Ireland ... a bit of everything for everyone. Tomorrow we will be a little more focused ... with some sleep under our belt ... as we venture to Trinity College and the Book of Kells! 

Let the blarney ... er ... the journey ... begin

We had nearly 3 days with Sabrina and parents in Chicago but we are presently at O'Hare, awaiting our non-stop flight to Dublin, expecting John and Jean, and in dire need of some adult refreshments. Travel, despite our TSA pre-approved status, is never for the faint of heart! And our hearts were already faint ...  due to Sabrina's tears that we were leaving Chicago!

So long to the Windy City and hello soon to the Emerald Isle. 

Who could walk away from this little one without a pang, at least?!

Time to spare ... go by air ...

Yes, we are still in Lincoln, Nebraska. This "gift of time" is marvelous ... instead of getting up at the wee small hours, I slept until nearly 9:00. So I'm now ready to conquer the world ... or at least the far west corner of Europe!

We are flying standby ... it's nice to have pilots "in the family" who help us out. While John is technically not "in the family" ...well, here's what my sister Cathy said in regard to the guest list for my mom's 90th birthday party--when we were contemplating family only. Well, she said, Of course you'll include  John and Jean ... they're family. At which point, we both realized that many many people consider themselves part of my mom's family so we started a new guest list!

But as every pilot I know is wont to say: "Time to spare go by air ... more time yet, go by jet." And today ... luckily we have time to spare because we are now leaving (we hope!) on the evening flight to Chicago!

We are breaking our journey there ... because Sabrina is waiting for us. Her parents are incredibly busy getting ready to move ... but I'll let them tell that story ... so I am not sure that they are as excited as Sabrina is!

Sabrina was sure that she was going with us to Ireland. Oh, how I love this granddaughter of mine. She is genetically coded ... as is anyone related to my mom ... to be of the "have suitcase, will travel" mindset. As we were discussing Ireland with Sabrina, she switched gears and said, "And you're taking me to London ... I want to see Paddington." We have promised that we will take both grandchildren on a trip to Europe when they are 10. (I'm not sure what will be left for Rory, who has already been to 4 countries in Europe ... but perhaps we will take him to Norway!)

Sabrina has the movie memorized:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-d-V9jXYDE

The Vikings and the Irish

As someone who celebrates her Scandinavian roots, I was surprised to learn that many of Ireland's port cities were "founded" by the Vikings. This includes Dublin, where the Vikings ruled for nearly 3 centuries. Even its name comes from the Norse word of Dyflin. And at least two other towns on our route were Viking settlements ...  Waterford (fjord) and Kinsale. So we would expect to see more red-headed Irish in those areas ... thanks to the marauding Vikings.

And why was I thinking about the Vikings (aka, the Scandinavians ... the Danes, actually). It was part of a long conversation with my mom (who suggested a great mystery to binge-watch on Hulu).  As we talked and I listened to all she had to do, it occurred to me that my mom carries the best of the Viking genes: she is stoic as she faces pain of any sort (I cite you her fall) and stalwart as she continues to "keep her own house."

Plus Mom reminded me of an important tenet of travel as we were reminiscing about the England trip  that celebrated her 80th birthday: while the cities, like Dublin and London, are fascinating ... it was the countryside that won our hearts.  We have 3 days in Dublin and then, for the remainder of the trip, we will be in relatively small towns where we hope to see the "real" Irish. And apparently, many of them will be red-headed!

(Pictured is an artist's rendition of Viking homes in Dublin around 900 A.D.)