Made it to Duinin House just outside of Dingle. We arrived here earlier than we have most places at this point, so we almost don't know what to do with ourselves. With some helpful maps from our host, I think we're going to walk around town and check out some different shops and things while they're still open. Then we'll hop back in the car to do the Slea (said like 'sleigh') Head Drive around the edge of the peninsula before coming back into town for dinner. We're in yet another coastal town, so there are quite a few seafood places I've been eyeing up the brochures for. Right now I'm (because Ben could care less about seafood restaurants) considering Lord Baker's (the oldest pub & largest restaurant in town) versus Out of the Blue (doesn't open for business unless they've caught something good that day). Both will probably be more expensive than we've been trying to eat so far along the trip, but it might be worth it. If the price is too far out of our league, there's always Galway for seafood before we head back to Dublin. That's my thought anyway.
Ok, time to go explore. Be back with more stories (and hopefully photos) later tonight.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Not so mini update
Hello again, all! Just got back to our darling beachside B&B after a scrumptious dinner at a great pub in a tiny fishing town called Portmagee. We really have been finding some gems on this trip. There's big business in pubs and B&Bs here, so you know that to some extent it's all a tourist trap, but the people have all been wonderful so you never feel conned by it. I don't know why I thought of that, but it's been something I've been considering. Anywho, on to the update of the past two days. Let's begin where we left off, shall we? On our way back into Blarney..
After breakfast and showers, it was back into Blarney to finish exploring the grounds around the castle. We strolled through town a bit (the less driving, the better) and stumbled upon a simple little crafters market outside the very tourist trappy shopping mall/restaurant/hotel. There were maybe only about a dozen stalls altogether, but it was fun to neb around anyway. There were locally made soaps, breads, herbal remedies (I thought of you, mom), food carts, and a musician. The end of the row of stalls led right onto the walking path to the castle, so that was perfect. We just barely missed a run-in with a tour bus group along the way. There had to have been fifty of them and we had no intentions of getting stuck behind them at the till to get onto the grounds. I'm all for a leisurely vacation in Ireland, but that would have tried my before-noon patience. Luckily, we not only got ahead of them, but we had already seen the castle the night before, so we wouldn't get caught up in their queue inside either. We headed straight for Blarney House, an 18th century home on the grounds currently occupied by local nobility of sorts. They keep the house in fairly accurate period condition, so guided tours are available for a short window of time each day. The guide was a very knowledgeable local historian who gave us the canned schpiel he was supposed to share along with tidbits from his own research, so that made for a nice touch. Unfortunately, as it is someone's current residence, we could only take pictures of the outside, which is rather impressive in it's own right. We continued through the Blarney grounds by exploring Rock Close, which is apparently often overlooked, along with the house. I felt like I was in an ancient Storybook Forest, with the Wishing Steps, Fairy Glade, and Witch's Kitchen to venture through. Got lots of pictures of all of that to share, of course.
These adventures had stirred up something of an appetite, so it was back to the Muskerry Arms for lunch before we left for Killarney. I finally had myself some real honest fish and chips! The fish was great, but the wedge-like fries left something to be desired. You know, just in case you find yourself in Blarney someday and are curious about what to order at the Muskerry Arms. As much as I wanted to stay and "just take one quick look" at the shopping plaza, Ben wisely shut that down and got us on our way. The drive to Killarney was mostly uneventful. I say that because we've done so much driving since then that has been very eventful, so, since nothing sticks out from this drive, it must not have been all that wild, crazy, or worth mentioning.
Killarney too, at least for the first night, wasn't all that exciting. There was a little confusion getting into the Woodlands B&B and then we weren't sure what to do with the night, so, by the time we got into town, most shops were closing and the only real option for entertainment was eating. We ate well, as we have the whole of the trip. We've only really eaten pub food technically (outside of the one cafe), but it has certainly served our stomachs well. After that it was another stroll back to the B&B (have you noticed that anti-driving stance Ben has taken?) to watch last week's Glee and organize the accumulated pictures. I only mention Glee because it was the 'Rumours' episode, aptly named for a Fleetwood Mac album, a band I am weirdly dorky about. (Dad, I'm not entirely sure how you feel about Fleetwood Mac, but they did a version of 'Never Going Back Again' that I think you would have enjoyed.) Anyway, it was a thoroughly enjoyable episode, Ben laughed while I sang along to every song, and I even got two albums of photos prepped to go up on Facebook. So productive.
Particularly for family, if I don't have you on Facebook, here are the public links to the photos we have uploaded so far. Keep in mind: this is only a small selection of photos. If you know me at all, you know there is no way I could go on a trip like this and only take these few photos. The photos haven't been cropped or edited or had anything fun with them yet to make them look prettier. Finally, Ben wrote all the captions, so if an inside joke doesn't fly, blame him. Also, captions have yet to be added for day 2. Day 1, Flying & Dublin: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150182202111965.303543.735401964&l=f2855a2ca5
Day 2, Bit of Dublin & Blarney: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150183870271965.303656.735401964&l=ff45e3eeaf
That brings us up to this morning in Killarney, I think. Breakfast was wonderful (I had my first taste of smoked salmon = yum), and we got to get to know our hosts a little better. Paddy came out to talk with us all through breakfast and was full of helpful tidbits for getting around. Although we had decided to be rebels and drive the Ring of Kerry clockwise (rather than the more popular anticlockwise), he pointed out that the unconventional route would make it easier for us to visit a few often-missed stops: Ross Castle, Muckross House, and Torc Waterfall. I kind of want to make an account on TripAdvisor and leave him a stellar review just for that advice alone. Granted, the Ring of Kerry is beautiful and awe inspiring and will leave you literally without words just by driving it, but it wouldn't have been the same without those stops.
Ross Castle is a wonderfully restored tower house style castle on Lough Leane dating from the 15th century. Again, photos are not permitted inside, a common theme amongst guided tours thus far, but the guide provided some insight into what it would have been like to live in a tower house castle - another common occurrence once, as literally thousands of these things were built all over Ireland some 500 years ago. They were even accommodating enough to show us what bathroom/dry cleaning facilities would have been like at the time - drafty, smelly, and communal. Great. After that tour was done, it was just a short drive down the road to Muckross House. Literally, "muckross" translates to "pig peninsula" as wild boar used to inhabit the area before people took over the scenic spot some couple hundred years ago. The house and grounds are quite simply massive. The house had something like 60+ chimneys and over 20 different bell pulls. The estate encompasses so much land that when it was donated to the Irish government in the 1930s, it became the country's first national park. There are so many lakes that something like one quarter of the park in water. And man, are they beautiful lakes. Wow. Just, wow. We only had one more stop recommended by Paddy before we officially started the Ring of Kerry within the Killarney National Park, but it's only going to be a blip in this entry because the Ring is just that damned beautiful. Torc Waterfall, although it can be reaching by jaunting car (horse-drawn carriage), we approached via Ford Focus to save on time. It's only a short hike through the woods along the stream/river to get to the fall and literally everything around you but the water is green. It's quiet and lush and damp and you could swear there had to be a Tolkien-esque elf nearby. The two minute walk takes at least five because you just need to stop and stare around you every few steps. The fall itself is beautiful and loud and just plain pretty. Thanks, Paddy, it was completely worth the side trip.
Once that was finished, we well and truly started in on the first half of the Ring of Kerry. The peninsula the Ring is situated on encompasses massive lakes, rocky fields, acres upon acres of mountainous pasture, narrow hairpin winding roads, expansive bays, and windswept sea shore. And that was only the first half! I took, quite literally, several hundred pictures. Granted, many of these were individual, overlapping shots meant to be turned into sweeping panoramas after some Photoshop wizardry, but still! It's a lot of pictures. You hear people use words like "speechless" and "breathless". I'm sure I've used those words myself before. I must amend myself. Without hyperbole, I saw some of the most beautiful vistas today that my eyes may ever see. Driving through those mountains provided breathtaking, truly took my breath away, views of the kind of countryside that pictures will never, ever do justice. Like crawling through the Great Pyramids, or standing in mosques five times as old as the United States itself, I doubt I will ever have enough words or pictures to fully describe these things to you. I want to be able to, and I know that when I see you, I will certainly try, but it will not be enough. It's simply not possible. I can show you pictures and probably make up words, but it is just too big, too beautiful, too too for me to express!
And the thing is, there's more to come. This was only the first half of the Ring of Kerry! We have nearly the whole other side of the peninsula to go tomorrow, along with the majority of Dingle Peninsula, which most sources say is the more beautiful of the two. More beautiful? It gets more beautiful?? I nearly cried writing about what we saw today. I don't think I can physically handle more beautiful! We'll just have to see when tomorrow comes.
Ok, after that novela, let's see if I can wrap up the rest of our night here in the teeny tiny town of, well, we aren't really in a town right now. We're situated right along St. Finian's Bay between the seemingly equal minuscule towns of Ballinskellig and Portmagee. Like, one lane road with a useless line painted down the middle with an unfenced sheep/cow pasture on either side kind of towns. I loved being in Blarney because it had a small town feel in spite of its tourist-ness. This place? It has a small town feel because it really is a small town. Any tourism comes from the fact that its a small town perched on what is, so far, the most beautiful little corner of the world. As I sit up in bed to write this, I am looking directly out our window, across the lawn, across the road, across the unobstructed stretch of beach and into the Atlantic Ocean. So far, life doesn't get any better than this.
We left earlier tonight to drive to Portmagee ("just o'er the mountain") for dinner, but wanted to stop to stroll along the little patch of beach first. We weren't there long, just us, some sand and water, when up from the road runs this dog. Just, out of nowhere! I'm not sure what he thought he saw, but it didn't take him long to get into the Remington trademarked "Ball? You have a ball? Throw the ball! When are you going to throw the ball? I want to chase the ball!" stance. Unfortunately for him, we had no ball. But we did find a stick! He (after checking his tags we found his name to be Ringo) seemed to feel stick was a suitable substitute for ball. Ben positively reveled in it - playing with a big happy farm dog on a beach on the coast of rural Ireland. If I thought he was in love with the Guinness factory? Ha! Nearly forgotten in this setting. Dinner, at least, was certainly forgotten. We played with Ringo for quite a while before mysterious, pretty, long-haired, undetermined shepherd dog also came down to join us. Although this dog got in on the game of fetch (or, as I like to call it, 'run really fast and kick up sand at the camera'), it seemed a bit skiddish when we got super close, so we never got a look at its handy tag. More fetch was played, the stick was broken in half (since sharing is apparently not a dog concept), but eventually dinner was remembered. The dogs followed us back up the beach and when we turned off for the footpath, the dogs turned the other way and trotted back the way they came, presumably to a nearby sheep/cow farm. We never figured out the other one's name and I'm still kind of worried about the poor things getting out on the road so easily like that, so I plan on asking about them with our hostess Bridie in the morning, in case you were worried too. She's either going to think we're crazy for playing with the town strays, or she'll laugh because the neighbor's dogs are smart enough to spot two suckers willing to play with random dogs from 300m.
When we finally made it to the recommended Bridge Bar in Portmagee for dinner, the smell of salt air had me hungry for seafood. Ben? Apparently not the seafood type, though I still mommed him and made him try everything in the mixed bag seafood dish I got but had a French name I can't remember. Regardless, incredibly yummy. We also noshed on some filo wrapped, fried prawns (aka shrimp - I love Irish lingo) for starters and homemade whiskey cake for dessert. Can't go wrong there, right? We met the cutest older couple sitting along the bench beside us who we chatted with all through and after dinner. He was English but now lived in Austrian with his Austrian wife whose English was not that great. But they were sweet and asked us about our holiday and life back in the States and would we be brave enough to get up and dance later? Dance? Oh yeah, didn't you know? There's live music and set dancing every Friday night. When the owner of the place stopped by to check in, he explained that this was what most of the locals did all year round, it wasn't just a show for tourists - although that's what it seemed to become in peak season. You partner up and dance in groups of eight, with each of the dozen or so local small towns having its own particular signature dance. Awesome, right? Totally. Were we going to, literally, step on toes by trying to join in? Heck, no! At one point our cute table neighbors did try their hand (or feet?) at a slower number, but we weren't Guinness-brave enough, since we knew we had another death defying drive up and over the mountain on one lane switchbacks to traverse before we saw the bay again.
Which is where we find ourselves now. It seems I have written quite the novel here, so if you have busy lives, I apologize. I can give you the sweetened condensed version when I see you next. In the meantime, I am off to bed as this novel took me well past my Irish bedtime. Hopefully I shall have a both shorter and sweeter update for you again tomorrow night from Duinin House in Dingle.
After breakfast and showers, it was back into Blarney to finish exploring the grounds around the castle. We strolled through town a bit (the less driving, the better) and stumbled upon a simple little crafters market outside the very tourist trappy shopping mall/restaurant/hotel. There were maybe only about a dozen stalls altogether, but it was fun to neb around anyway. There were locally made soaps, breads, herbal remedies (I thought of you, mom), food carts, and a musician. The end of the row of stalls led right onto the walking path to the castle, so that was perfect. We just barely missed a run-in with a tour bus group along the way. There had to have been fifty of them and we had no intentions of getting stuck behind them at the till to get onto the grounds. I'm all for a leisurely vacation in Ireland, but that would have tried my before-noon patience. Luckily, we not only got ahead of them, but we had already seen the castle the night before, so we wouldn't get caught up in their queue inside either. We headed straight for Blarney House, an 18th century home on the grounds currently occupied by local nobility of sorts. They keep the house in fairly accurate period condition, so guided tours are available for a short window of time each day. The guide was a very knowledgeable local historian who gave us the canned schpiel he was supposed to share along with tidbits from his own research, so that made for a nice touch. Unfortunately, as it is someone's current residence, we could only take pictures of the outside, which is rather impressive in it's own right. We continued through the Blarney grounds by exploring Rock Close, which is apparently often overlooked, along with the house. I felt like I was in an ancient Storybook Forest, with the Wishing Steps, Fairy Glade, and Witch's Kitchen to venture through. Got lots of pictures of all of that to share, of course.
These adventures had stirred up something of an appetite, so it was back to the Muskerry Arms for lunch before we left for Killarney. I finally had myself some real honest fish and chips! The fish was great, but the wedge-like fries left something to be desired. You know, just in case you find yourself in Blarney someday and are curious about what to order at the Muskerry Arms. As much as I wanted to stay and "just take one quick look" at the shopping plaza, Ben wisely shut that down and got us on our way. The drive to Killarney was mostly uneventful. I say that because we've done so much driving since then that has been very eventful, so, since nothing sticks out from this drive, it must not have been all that wild, crazy, or worth mentioning.
Killarney too, at least for the first night, wasn't all that exciting. There was a little confusion getting into the Woodlands B&B and then we weren't sure what to do with the night, so, by the time we got into town, most shops were closing and the only real option for entertainment was eating. We ate well, as we have the whole of the trip. We've only really eaten pub food technically (outside of the one cafe), but it has certainly served our stomachs well. After that it was another stroll back to the B&B (have you noticed that anti-driving stance Ben has taken?) to watch last week's Glee and organize the accumulated pictures. I only mention Glee because it was the 'Rumours' episode, aptly named for a Fleetwood Mac album, a band I am weirdly dorky about. (Dad, I'm not entirely sure how you feel about Fleetwood Mac, but they did a version of 'Never Going Back Again' that I think you would have enjoyed.) Anyway, it was a thoroughly enjoyable episode, Ben laughed while I sang along to every song, and I even got two albums of photos prepped to go up on Facebook. So productive.
Particularly for family, if I don't have you on Facebook, here are the public links to the photos we have uploaded so far. Keep in mind: this is only a small selection of photos. If you know me at all, you know there is no way I could go on a trip like this and only take these few photos. The photos haven't been cropped or edited or had anything fun with them yet to make them look prettier. Finally, Ben wrote all the captions, so if an inside joke doesn't fly, blame him. Also, captions have yet to be added for day 2. Day 1, Flying & Dublin: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150182202111965.303543.735401964&l=f2855a2ca5
Day 2, Bit of Dublin & Blarney: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150183870271965.303656.735401964&l=ff45e3eeaf
That brings us up to this morning in Killarney, I think. Breakfast was wonderful (I had my first taste of smoked salmon = yum), and we got to get to know our hosts a little better. Paddy came out to talk with us all through breakfast and was full of helpful tidbits for getting around. Although we had decided to be rebels and drive the Ring of Kerry clockwise (rather than the more popular anticlockwise), he pointed out that the unconventional route would make it easier for us to visit a few often-missed stops: Ross Castle, Muckross House, and Torc Waterfall. I kind of want to make an account on TripAdvisor and leave him a stellar review just for that advice alone. Granted, the Ring of Kerry is beautiful and awe inspiring and will leave you literally without words just by driving it, but it wouldn't have been the same without those stops.
Ross Castle is a wonderfully restored tower house style castle on Lough Leane dating from the 15th century. Again, photos are not permitted inside, a common theme amongst guided tours thus far, but the guide provided some insight into what it would have been like to live in a tower house castle - another common occurrence once, as literally thousands of these things were built all over Ireland some 500 years ago. They were even accommodating enough to show us what bathroom/dry cleaning facilities would have been like at the time - drafty, smelly, and communal. Great. After that tour was done, it was just a short drive down the road to Muckross House. Literally, "muckross" translates to "pig peninsula" as wild boar used to inhabit the area before people took over the scenic spot some couple hundred years ago. The house and grounds are quite simply massive. The house had something like 60+ chimneys and over 20 different bell pulls. The estate encompasses so much land that when it was donated to the Irish government in the 1930s, it became the country's first national park. There are so many lakes that something like one quarter of the park in water. And man, are they beautiful lakes. Wow. Just, wow. We only had one more stop recommended by Paddy before we officially started the Ring of Kerry within the Killarney National Park, but it's only going to be a blip in this entry because the Ring is just that damned beautiful. Torc Waterfall, although it can be reaching by jaunting car (horse-drawn carriage), we approached via Ford Focus to save on time. It's only a short hike through the woods along the stream/river to get to the fall and literally everything around you but the water is green. It's quiet and lush and damp and you could swear there had to be a Tolkien-esque elf nearby. The two minute walk takes at least five because you just need to stop and stare around you every few steps. The fall itself is beautiful and loud and just plain pretty. Thanks, Paddy, it was completely worth the side trip.
Once that was finished, we well and truly started in on the first half of the Ring of Kerry. The peninsula the Ring is situated on encompasses massive lakes, rocky fields, acres upon acres of mountainous pasture, narrow hairpin winding roads, expansive bays, and windswept sea shore. And that was only the first half! I took, quite literally, several hundred pictures. Granted, many of these were individual, overlapping shots meant to be turned into sweeping panoramas after some Photoshop wizardry, but still! It's a lot of pictures. You hear people use words like "speechless" and "breathless". I'm sure I've used those words myself before. I must amend myself. Without hyperbole, I saw some of the most beautiful vistas today that my eyes may ever see. Driving through those mountains provided breathtaking, truly took my breath away, views of the kind of countryside that pictures will never, ever do justice. Like crawling through the Great Pyramids, or standing in mosques five times as old as the United States itself, I doubt I will ever have enough words or pictures to fully describe these things to you. I want to be able to, and I know that when I see you, I will certainly try, but it will not be enough. It's simply not possible. I can show you pictures and probably make up words, but it is just too big, too beautiful, too too for me to express!
And the thing is, there's more to come. This was only the first half of the Ring of Kerry! We have nearly the whole other side of the peninsula to go tomorrow, along with the majority of Dingle Peninsula, which most sources say is the more beautiful of the two. More beautiful? It gets more beautiful?? I nearly cried writing about what we saw today. I don't think I can physically handle more beautiful! We'll just have to see when tomorrow comes.
Ok, after that novela, let's see if I can wrap up the rest of our night here in the teeny tiny town of, well, we aren't really in a town right now. We're situated right along St. Finian's Bay between the seemingly equal minuscule towns of Ballinskellig and Portmagee. Like, one lane road with a useless line painted down the middle with an unfenced sheep/cow pasture on either side kind of towns. I loved being in Blarney because it had a small town feel in spite of its tourist-ness. This place? It has a small town feel because it really is a small town. Any tourism comes from the fact that its a small town perched on what is, so far, the most beautiful little corner of the world. As I sit up in bed to write this, I am looking directly out our window, across the lawn, across the road, across the unobstructed stretch of beach and into the Atlantic Ocean. So far, life doesn't get any better than this.
We left earlier tonight to drive to Portmagee ("just o'er the mountain") for dinner, but wanted to stop to stroll along the little patch of beach first. We weren't there long, just us, some sand and water, when up from the road runs this dog. Just, out of nowhere! I'm not sure what he thought he saw, but it didn't take him long to get into the Remington trademarked "Ball? You have a ball? Throw the ball! When are you going to throw the ball? I want to chase the ball!" stance. Unfortunately for him, we had no ball. But we did find a stick! He (after checking his tags we found his name to be Ringo) seemed to feel stick was a suitable substitute for ball. Ben positively reveled in it - playing with a big happy farm dog on a beach on the coast of rural Ireland. If I thought he was in love with the Guinness factory? Ha! Nearly forgotten in this setting. Dinner, at least, was certainly forgotten. We played with Ringo for quite a while before mysterious, pretty, long-haired, undetermined shepherd dog also came down to join us. Although this dog got in on the game of fetch (or, as I like to call it, 'run really fast and kick up sand at the camera'), it seemed a bit skiddish when we got super close, so we never got a look at its handy tag. More fetch was played, the stick was broken in half (since sharing is apparently not a dog concept), but eventually dinner was remembered. The dogs followed us back up the beach and when we turned off for the footpath, the dogs turned the other way and trotted back the way they came, presumably to a nearby sheep/cow farm. We never figured out the other one's name and I'm still kind of worried about the poor things getting out on the road so easily like that, so I plan on asking about them with our hostess Bridie in the morning, in case you were worried too. She's either going to think we're crazy for playing with the town strays, or she'll laugh because the neighbor's dogs are smart enough to spot two suckers willing to play with random dogs from 300m.
When we finally made it to the recommended Bridge Bar in Portmagee for dinner, the smell of salt air had me hungry for seafood. Ben? Apparently not the seafood type, though I still mommed him and made him try everything in the mixed bag seafood dish I got but had a French name I can't remember. Regardless, incredibly yummy. We also noshed on some filo wrapped, fried prawns (aka shrimp - I love Irish lingo) for starters and homemade whiskey cake for dessert. Can't go wrong there, right? We met the cutest older couple sitting along the bench beside us who we chatted with all through and after dinner. He was English but now lived in Austrian with his Austrian wife whose English was not that great. But they were sweet and asked us about our holiday and life back in the States and would we be brave enough to get up and dance later? Dance? Oh yeah, didn't you know? There's live music and set dancing every Friday night. When the owner of the place stopped by to check in, he explained that this was what most of the locals did all year round, it wasn't just a show for tourists - although that's what it seemed to become in peak season. You partner up and dance in groups of eight, with each of the dozen or so local small towns having its own particular signature dance. Awesome, right? Totally. Were we going to, literally, step on toes by trying to join in? Heck, no! At one point our cute table neighbors did try their hand (or feet?) at a slower number, but we weren't Guinness-brave enough, since we knew we had another death defying drive up and over the mountain on one lane switchbacks to traverse before we saw the bay again.
Which is where we find ourselves now. It seems I have written quite the novel here, so if you have busy lives, I apologize. I can give you the sweetened condensed version when I see you next. In the meantime, I am off to bed as this novel took me well past my Irish bedtime. Hopefully I shall have a both shorter and sweeter update for you again tomorrow night from Duinin House in Dingle.
Mini update
Hopefully Blogger doesn't decide to crash on me again for the next 36 hours or so as I embark on this next update for you all. Last we spoke (in a sense), we were on our way into Blarney to explore a bit more before we got on the road to Killarney. (Keep in mind, the names of these towns sound so much better when said with the local accent.) We explored Killarney a bit in the evening, ate, slept, then started in on the first half of the Ring of Kerry. Our hosts were very helpful in pointing out some highlights that I know we would have bypassed otherwise. We're now settled in just outside of the little town of Portmagee, sitting in our room looking across the street at the beach on St. Finian's Bay. Yeah, it's amazing.
I'd love to regale you with all the intricate details, but Ben is nagging for dinner and a walk on the beach. Can a girl really argue with that? No, you're right. Off I go!
I'd love to regale you with all the intricate details, but Ben is nagging for dinner and a walk on the beach. Can a girl really argue with that? No, you're right. Off I go!
Grr..
I'm not entirely sure why, but Blogger/Blogspot has been a real pain in the ass these past few days. (Sorry for the language, mom.) We picked B&B locations so that we'd always have the internet, but Blogger has been refusing to function. I'm fairly certain I posted two days ago (the last time it worked), and now I log in today (when it's finally working again) and my last post has mysteriously disappeared. In case you missed it or need a refresher, here it is in all its majesty.
This took a little longer than I'd hoped, but don't worry, I didn't fall off the top of Blarney Castle. (It was a close thing, though. Seriously, Moms are going to freak out a little when they see the pictures.) Anywho, as you might have guessed, we've made our way to Blarney, Co. Cork by now. We spent the first day and a little bit in Dublin with its insane driving, and made it to Blarney late afternoon yesterday. We'll stay here again today til lunch before we head on to Killarney to start the Ring of Kerry tomorrow.
Dublin really was kind of crazy. You get off the plane. Take a shuttle bus to the rental car place. They say, "Drive on the left. Go clockwise through the roundabouts. Here's a map/gps" (Which may or may not be altogether reliable.) And off you go! It's wild! I can't even imagine how much more difficult it would have been had a) it been a manual and/or b) I had to drive! Ha! Because not only are you on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road, but the lane markings are different (if they're there at all), the street signs are hidden and tiny (if they're there at all), and whatever road rules exist (if they're there at all) are seemingly ignored by the majority of the driving population. Bus lane, you say? Eff that bus lane, I'm driving my Fiat here! Motorcycles need to drive in vehicle lanes? Why would I do that when I can drive on the line between two vehicle lanes?? I tried to take photos of some of this insanity while poor Ben drove so you guys can get the full idea once we get home. I doubt I did it justice though. One thing's for certain, driving at home will now seem like a cake walk for both driver and (reluctant) navigator.
Aside from the adventure that is Irish city driving, Dublin is a cool old city. We didn't get to see much of it in our first day, for two key reasons. 1) We (ie, Ben) tried to drive as little as humanly possible. 2) The Guinness Storehouse tour takes Way longer than you'd ever expect. This could be because there was 'complimentary' Guinness involved, but I can't be sure. That place was huge and amazing and full of interesting facts and tidbits. I may not enjoy the taste of the stuff, but I certainly enjoyed the tour. (I can only assume Ben agrees with the latter.) Encompassing seven floors of the old Storehouse (modern day brewing takes place across the street), a discussion of all the neat stuff we came across could take up at least a whole paragraph of its own. Since we still want to get out and be productive today before we get back on the road, I'll just have to leave my description at that. We also explored Trinity College and St. Stephens Green before we hit the Guinness compound. We saw the Book of Kells and a few other religious artifacts as well as an exhibit on the College's medical school there. St. Stephens Green is this big beautiful park just smack in the middle of the city. It's one of those parks that's so rambling and natural that you really do feel like you've escaped the man-made city for something peaceful. There isn't this forced feeling you can get in other city parks I've seen, where you stay on the path and off the grass and you're only there if you've got something productive and healthy to do. Here, there were a good number of people doing that sort of thing, but more than that there were also plenty of people simply lounging on the grass, hanging out with friends after school, enjoying a picnic of take-away food from a nearby cafe, that sort of thing. When we stopped by, we still hadn't quite gotten our bearings yet and didn't really know what to do with our day, so we just plopped down on the grass with our gps and guidebook and people-watched a little while we figured it out. In the sort of chaos of the rest of the city, this park really seems like an asset to the locals.
As beautiful and interesting as parts of the city were, I think we were both glad to head out of it for a more rural setting yesterday afternoon. After hunting around for the elusive Cake Cafe for a late breakfast, we successfully got our butts out of the city and onto the M8 towards County Cork. By the way, the search for Cake Cafe was fruitful and completely worth the effort. We both had the most delicious (gigantic!) cream cheese pancake with some kind of strawberry topping and cinnamon and honest to goodness fresh lemonade. I took pictures. It was worth it. I already have plans to eat there before we catch our flight out again!
The journey to Blarney was certainly an interesting one. Ireland is apparently in the process of updating its major roadways so, although the gps got us successfully out of the city and onto the highway, there was a major swatch of roadway the gps didn't recognize. It assumed we were on some back country road, since we really were driving straight through the countryside, and even told us to turn onto "unnamed road" and "gravel drive" more than once as it tried to figure out where we were. It was a bit frustrating, but also kind of entertaining. We just stayed on the highway until it found us again, with Becky and GoogleMaps helping us over the phone from home. (Thank you!) Even once we got into the little town of Blarney, it was a struggle to find the Blarney Vale B&B. They don't seem to like formal addresses here, so we kept guessing at the street name. We thought we'd found it more than once, but with no luck. We finally broke down and strolled around town to the tourist office, where we got directions from the two friendly people inside. "You go out this way, and you're gonna make a right. But, you know, this road, it makes you go left, but you go right. And then you follow the road for a ways, just follow the road, and you'll pass two big garages, can't miss em, pass two garages and it's da tird house, on the left." Imagine all of this with the adorable local, a bit country, accent and lots of hand gestures from a slightly old gentleman. Add to that repeated emphasis on the two "garages" by the young woman who also worked there, and those were the directions we had. Now let me ask you, what do you picture when you see the word "garages"? Ben and I were both picturing essentially an autobody place, like a big garage where cars get worked on, that sort of thing. No. It took us passing the two gas stations we had passed at least half a dozen times in our earlier searches to realize these were garages! We kept following that road, as the old man instructed, and ran right into a big yellow sign for our B&B. Go figure!
After checking in and seeing our adorable little room (got a picture of that too) we walked (yay, no more driving!) back into town to track down the famous Blarney Stone. We got there with the place only open for about another hour and a half, so we made a beeline for the castle. The map showed a ton of other things to do and see on the grounds, but we didn't have time for that - we had a stone to kiss! The castle, being a castle and all, was cool and old and interesting and everything, but we can talk about that later. Right now I just want to tell you about the mental fortitude it took me to actually kiss the damn thing! So you walk to the top of this old castle, right? And you get to the top (finally) after lots of tiny, twisting, slippery stairs and you're strolling around the old battlements. It's high up. Like, really high up. And then you see the two guys manning the Kiss the Blarney Stone picture station - against the battlements, and, what's this? The big, fancy, professional camera is pointing down? Like, at the floor? Like at a big hole in the floor that's out over the Edge?? Yeah, that's where the Blarney Stone is, people. You lay down on your back, on a rubber cushy mat, the one guy supports your back, reminding you to grab on to the iron bars above your head, to just look at the wall behind you, and, oh yeah, don't look down. Trust me, old man, I am Not looking down. You scoot back (if you're me, you scoot back the tiniest bit until he nags you to scoot back more). You tilt your head and neck Way back until you see this stone on the Bottom(!) of this particular wall that you're holding onto for dear life that looks a little different than the rest - like, magically different. Ok, just kidding, calling it magically different would be "baloney" - calling it something more eloquent and subtle would be "blarney". I have yet to come up with that description yet, maybe a didn't kiss the stone long enough. Also, does anyone else find it weird that I'm fascinated by the apparent death-defying-ness of it all, rather than the fact that literally millions of people of indiscernible medical histories kissed this thing before me? Ben does. I'm just still impressed that I did it. Ben did it too, of course, like it was no big deal, like it wasn't just a couple metal bars, a rubber mat, and an old man keeping him from falling to certain death. No big deal. Tough guy..
That mission completed, we used the last few minutes the place was open to explore the garden beside the castle - the poison garden! Seriously, poison. There's a with a skull & cross bones before you walk in warning you not to touch anything or leave children unattended. Everything from nightshade to poppies to wolfsbane to poison ivy was in this place. There was even canibis! It was in its own cage with a friendly sign informing visitors that the plant had been temporarily removed from the exhibit - by the police! I literally laughed out loud. And took a picture of the sign. An ancient historical site got into trouble with the garda for growing weed? What isn't funny about that? What, not laughing? Well, too bad, it was funny at the time. And I have the picture to prove it! Ha. (Yeah, Ben just called me out for laughing about that again as I type this. Jerk.)
It was getting kind of late and we were getting kind of hungry, so we headed out of the park to grab dinner at the Muskerry Arms, a nice big, little pub in town. Dinner was yummy, they had lots of Guinness for Ben and lots of Irish cider for me, so we were both happy. I was being a jet-lagged baby and was complaining about wanting to walk back to go to bed, when the bartender asked - get this - if we were staying for bingo. "It's really good craic," he says. "You'll enjoy it." Bingo? In an Irish pub? What? I was somehow not tired anymore! It was like magic. We quickly learned that Irish bingo is different from American bingo and apparently taken quite seriously. There were a few other pairings of Americans nearby and I feel like we all won a little favor with the local bingo regulars for trying our hand - even if we never won a penny. The bartender apparently liked us because, when we finally said goodnight, he insisted we come back to say goodbye the next day. It seems like something little, but that was actually quite an awesome feeling. I'm excited to head back into town because of that.
Like, head into town right now. Ok, not right now, because I need to bathe and look a little bit presentable, but soon. Back to Blarney Castle to explore more of the grounds, grab one last meal and drink from the Muskerry Arms, say goodbye to our wonderful hostess, and get back on the road towards Kerry. We love you all, we miss you, we can't wait to bring you fun things and show you lots of pictures. Bye for now!
This took a little longer than I'd hoped, but don't worry, I didn't fall off the top of Blarney Castle. (It was a close thing, though. Seriously, Moms are going to freak out a little when they see the pictures.) Anywho, as you might have guessed, we've made our way to Blarney, Co. Cork by now. We spent the first day and a little bit in Dublin with its insane driving, and made it to Blarney late afternoon yesterday. We'll stay here again today til lunch before we head on to Killarney to start the Ring of Kerry tomorrow.
Dublin really was kind of crazy. You get off the plane. Take a shuttle bus to the rental car place. They say, "Drive on the left. Go clockwise through the roundabouts. Here's a map/gps" (Which may or may not be altogether reliable.) And off you go! It's wild! I can't even imagine how much more difficult it would have been had a) it been a manual and/or b) I had to drive! Ha! Because not only are you on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road, but the lane markings are different (if they're there at all), the street signs are hidden and tiny (if they're there at all), and whatever road rules exist (if they're there at all) are seemingly ignored by the majority of the driving population. Bus lane, you say? Eff that bus lane, I'm driving my Fiat here! Motorcycles need to drive in vehicle lanes? Why would I do that when I can drive on the line between two vehicle lanes?? I tried to take photos of some of this insanity while poor Ben drove so you guys can get the full idea once we get home. I doubt I did it justice though. One thing's for certain, driving at home will now seem like a cake walk for both driver and (reluctant) navigator.
Aside from the adventure that is Irish city driving, Dublin is a cool old city. We didn't get to see much of it in our first day, for two key reasons. 1) We (ie, Ben) tried to drive as little as humanly possible. 2) The Guinness Storehouse tour takes Way longer than you'd ever expect. This could be because there was 'complimentary' Guinness involved, but I can't be sure. That place was huge and amazing and full of interesting facts and tidbits. I may not enjoy the taste of the stuff, but I certainly enjoyed the tour. (I can only assume Ben agrees with the latter.) Encompassing seven floors of the old Storehouse (modern day brewing takes place across the street), a discussion of all the neat stuff we came across could take up at least a whole paragraph of its own. Since we still want to get out and be productive today before we get back on the road, I'll just have to leave my description at that. We also explored Trinity College and St. Stephens Green before we hit the Guinness compound. We saw the Book of Kells and a few other religious artifacts as well as an exhibit on the College's medical school there. St. Stephens Green is this big beautiful park just smack in the middle of the city. It's one of those parks that's so rambling and natural that you really do feel like you've escaped the man-made city for something peaceful. There isn't this forced feeling you can get in other city parks I've seen, where you stay on the path and off the grass and you're only there if you've got something productive and healthy to do. Here, there were a good number of people doing that sort of thing, but more than that there were also plenty of people simply lounging on the grass, hanging out with friends after school, enjoying a picnic of take-away food from a nearby cafe, that sort of thing. When we stopped by, we still hadn't quite gotten our bearings yet and didn't really know what to do with our day, so we just plopped down on the grass with our gps and guidebook and people-watched a little while we figured it out. In the sort of chaos of the rest of the city, this park really seems like an asset to the locals.
As beautiful and interesting as parts of the city were, I think we were both glad to head out of it for a more rural setting yesterday afternoon. After hunting around for the elusive Cake Cafe for a late breakfast, we successfully got our butts out of the city and onto the M8 towards County Cork. By the way, the search for Cake Cafe was fruitful and completely worth the effort. We both had the most delicious (gigantic!) cream cheese pancake with some kind of strawberry topping and cinnamon and honest to goodness fresh lemonade. I took pictures. It was worth it. I already have plans to eat there before we catch our flight out again!
The journey to Blarney was certainly an interesting one. Ireland is apparently in the process of updating its major roadways so, although the gps got us successfully out of the city and onto the highway, there was a major swatch of roadway the gps didn't recognize. It assumed we were on some back country road, since we really were driving straight through the countryside, and even told us to turn onto "unnamed road" and "gravel drive" more than once as it tried to figure out where we were. It was a bit frustrating, but also kind of entertaining. We just stayed on the highway until it found us again, with Becky and GoogleMaps helping us over the phone from home. (Thank you!) Even once we got into the little town of Blarney, it was a struggle to find the Blarney Vale B&B. They don't seem to like formal addresses here, so we kept guessing at the street name. We thought we'd found it more than once, but with no luck. We finally broke down and strolled around town to the tourist office, where we got directions from the two friendly people inside. "You go out this way, and you're gonna make a right. But, you know, this road, it makes you go left, but you go right. And then you follow the road for a ways, just follow the road, and you'll pass two big garages, can't miss em, pass two garages and it's da tird house, on the left." Imagine all of this with the adorable local, a bit country, accent and lots of hand gestures from a slightly old gentleman. Add to that repeated emphasis on the two "garages" by the young woman who also worked there, and those were the directions we had. Now let me ask you, what do you picture when you see the word "garages"? Ben and I were both picturing essentially an autobody place, like a big garage where cars get worked on, that sort of thing. No. It took us passing the two gas stations we had passed at least half a dozen times in our earlier searches to realize these were garages! We kept following that road, as the old man instructed, and ran right into a big yellow sign for our B&B. Go figure!
After checking in and seeing our adorable little room (got a picture of that too) we walked (yay, no more driving!) back into town to track down the famous Blarney Stone. We got there with the place only open for about another hour and a half, so we made a beeline for the castle. The map showed a ton of other things to do and see on the grounds, but we didn't have time for that - we had a stone to kiss! The castle, being a castle and all, was cool and old and interesting and everything, but we can talk about that later. Right now I just want to tell you about the mental fortitude it took me to actually kiss the damn thing! So you walk to the top of this old castle, right? And you get to the top (finally) after lots of tiny, twisting, slippery stairs and you're strolling around the old battlements. It's high up. Like, really high up. And then you see the two guys manning the Kiss the Blarney Stone picture station - against the battlements, and, what's this? The big, fancy, professional camera is pointing down? Like, at the floor? Like at a big hole in the floor that's out over the Edge?? Yeah, that's where the Blarney Stone is, people. You lay down on your back, on a rubber cushy mat, the one guy supports your back, reminding you to grab on to the iron bars above your head, to just look at the wall behind you, and, oh yeah, don't look down. Trust me, old man, I am Not looking down. You scoot back (if you're me, you scoot back the tiniest bit until he nags you to scoot back more). You tilt your head and neck Way back until you see this stone on the Bottom(!) of this particular wall that you're holding onto for dear life that looks a little different than the rest - like, magically different. Ok, just kidding, calling it magically different would be "baloney" - calling it something more eloquent and subtle would be "blarney". I have yet to come up with that description yet, maybe a didn't kiss the stone long enough. Also, does anyone else find it weird that I'm fascinated by the apparent death-defying-ness of it all, rather than the fact that literally millions of people of indiscernible medical histories kissed this thing before me? Ben does. I'm just still impressed that I did it. Ben did it too, of course, like it was no big deal, like it wasn't just a couple metal bars, a rubber mat, and an old man keeping him from falling to certain death. No big deal. Tough guy..
That mission completed, we used the last few minutes the place was open to explore the garden beside the castle - the poison garden! Seriously, poison. There's a with a skull & cross bones before you walk in warning you not to touch anything or leave children unattended. Everything from nightshade to poppies to wolfsbane to poison ivy was in this place. There was even canibis! It was in its own cage with a friendly sign informing visitors that the plant had been temporarily removed from the exhibit - by the police! I literally laughed out loud. And took a picture of the sign. An ancient historical site got into trouble with the garda for growing weed? What isn't funny about that? What, not laughing? Well, too bad, it was funny at the time. And I have the picture to prove it! Ha. (Yeah, Ben just called me out for laughing about that again as I type this. Jerk.)
It was getting kind of late and we were getting kind of hungry, so we headed out of the park to grab dinner at the Muskerry Arms, a nice big, little pub in town. Dinner was yummy, they had lots of Guinness for Ben and lots of Irish cider for me, so we were both happy. I was being a jet-lagged baby and was complaining about wanting to walk back to go to bed, when the bartender asked - get this - if we were staying for bingo. "It's really good craic," he says. "You'll enjoy it." Bingo? In an Irish pub? What? I was somehow not tired anymore! It was like magic. We quickly learned that Irish bingo is different from American bingo and apparently taken quite seriously. There were a few other pairings of Americans nearby and I feel like we all won a little favor with the local bingo regulars for trying our hand - even if we never won a penny. The bartender apparently liked us because, when we finally said goodnight, he insisted we come back to say goodbye the next day. It seems like something little, but that was actually quite an awesome feeling. I'm excited to head back into town because of that.
Like, head into town right now. Ok, not right now, because I need to bathe and look a little bit presentable, but soon. Back to Blarney Castle to explore more of the grounds, grab one last meal and drink from the Muskerry Arms, say goodbye to our wonderful hostess, and get back on the road towards Kerry. We love you all, we miss you, we can't wait to bring you fun things and show you lots of pictures. Bye for now!
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Hello again
This took a little longer than I'd hoped, but don't worry, I didn't fall off the top of Blarney Castle. (It was a close thing, though. Seriously, Moms are going to freak out a little when they see the pictures.) Anywho, as you might have guessed, we've made our way to Blarney, Co. Cork by now. We spent the first day and a little bit in Dublin with its insane driving, and made it to Blarney late afternoon yesterday. We'll stay here again today til lunch before we head on to Killarney to start the Ring of Kerry tomorrow.
Dublin really was kind of crazy. You get off the plane. Take a shuttle bus to the rental car place. They say, "Drive on the left. Go clockwise through the roundabouts. Here's a map/gps" (Which may or may not be altogether reliable.) And off you go! It's wild! I can't even imagine how much more difficult it would have been had a) it been a manual and/or b) I had to drive! Ha! Because not only are you on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road, but the lane markings are different (if they're there at all), the street signs are hidden and tiny (if they're there at all), and whatever road rules exist (if they're there at all) are seemingly ignored by the majority of the driving population. Bus lane, you say? Eff that bus lane, I'm driving my Fiat here! Motorcycles need to drive in vehicle lanes? Why would I do that when I can drive on the line between two vehicle lanes?? I tried to take photos of some of this insanity while poor Ben drove so you guys can get the full idea once we get home. I doubt I did it justice though. One thing's for certain, driving at home will now seem like a cake walk for both driver and (reluctant) navigator.
Aside from the adventure that is Irish city driving, Dublin is a cool old city. We didn't get to see much of it in our first day, for two key reasons. 1) We (ie, Ben) tried to drive as little as humanly possible. 2) The Guinness Storehouse tour takes Way longer than you'd ever expect. This could be because there was 'complimentary' Guinness involved, but I can't be sure. That place was huge and amazing and full of interesting facts and tidbits. I may not enjoy the taste of the stuff, but I certainly enjoyed the tour. (I can only assume Ben agrees with the latter.) Encompassing seven floors of the old Storehouse (modern day brewing takes place across the street), a discussion of all the neat stuff we came across could take up at least a whole paragraph of its own. Since we still want to get out and be productive today before we get back on the road, I'll just have to leave my description at that. We also explored Trinity College and St. Stephens Green before we hit the Guinness compound. We saw the Book of Kells and a few other religious artifacts as well as an exhibit on the College's medical school there. St. Stephens Green is this big beautiful park just smack in the middle of the city. It's one of those parks that's so rambling and natural that you really do feel like you've escaped the man-made city for something peaceful. There isn't this forced feeling you can get in other city parks I've seen, where you stay on the path and off the grass and you're only there if you've got something productive and healthy to do. Here, there were a good number of people doing that sort of thing, but more than that there were also plenty of people simply lounging on the grass, hanging out with friends after school, enjoying a picnic of take-away food from a nearby cafe, that sort of thing. When we stopped by, we still hadn't quite gotten our bearings yet and didn't really know what to do with our day, so we just plopped down on the grass with our gps and guidebook and people-watched a little while we figured it out. In the sort of chaos of the rest of the city, this park really seems like an asset to the locals.
As beautiful and interesting as parts of the city were, I think we were both glad to head out of it for a more rural setting yesterday afternoon. After hunting around for the elusive Cake Cafe for a late breakfast, we successfully got our butts out of the city and onto the M8 towards County Cork. By the way, the search for Cake Cafe was fruitful and completely worth the effort. We both had the most delicious (gigantic!) cream cheese pancake with some kind of strawberry topping and cinnamon and honest to goodness fresh lemonade. I took pictures. It was worth it. I already have plans to eat there before we catch our flight out again!
The journey to Blarney was certainly an interesting one. Ireland is apparently in the process of updating its major roadways so, although the gps got us successfully out of the city and onto the highway, there was a major swatch of roadway the gps didn't recognize. It assumed we were on some back country road, since we really were driving straight through the countryside, and even told us to turn onto "unnamed road" and "gravel drive" more than once as it tried to figure out where we were. It was a bit frustrating, but also kind of entertaining. We just stayed on the highway until it found us again, with Becky and GoogleMaps helping us over the phone from home. (Thank you!) Even once we got into the little town of Blarney, it was a struggle to find the Blarney Vale B&B. They don't seem to like formal addresses here, so we kept guessing at the street name. We thought we'd found it more than once, but with no luck. We finally broke down and strolled around town to the tourist office, where we got directions from the two friendly people inside. "You go out this way, and you're gonna make a right. But, you know, this road, it makes you go left, but you go right. And then you follow the road for a ways, just follow the road, and you'll pass two big garages, can't miss em, pass two garages and it's da tird house, on the left." Imagine all of this with the adorable local, a bit country, accent and lots of hand gestures from a slightly old gentleman. Add to that repeated emphasis on the two "garages" by the young woman who also worked there, and those were the directions we had. Now let me ask you, what do you picture when you see the word "garages"? Ben and I were both picturing essentially an autobody place, like a big garage where cars get worked on, that sort of thing. No. It took us passing the two gas stations we had passed at least half a dozen times in our earlier searches to realize these were garages! We kept following that road, as the old man instructed, and ran right into a big yellow sign for our B&B. Go figure!
After checking in and seeing our adorable little room (got a picture of that too) we walked (yay, no more driving!) back into town to track down the famous Blarney Stone. We got there with the place only open for about another hour and a half, so we made a beeline for the castle. The map showed a ton of other things to do and see on the grounds, but we didn't have time for that - we had a stone to kiss! The castle, being a castle and all, was cool and old and interesting and everything, but we can talk about that later. Right now I just want to tell you about the mental fortitude it took me to actually kiss the damn thing! So you walk to the top of this old castle, right? And you get to the top (finally) after lots of tiny, twisting, slippery stairs and you're strolling around the old battlements. It's high up. Like, really high up. And then you see the two guys manning the Kiss the Blarney Stone picture station - against the battlements, and, what's this? The big, fancy, professional camera is pointing down? Like, at the floor? Like at a big hole in the floor that's out over the Edge?? Yeah, that's where the Blarney Stone is, people. You lay down on your back, on a rubber cushy mat, the one guy supports your back, reminding you to grab on to the iron bars above your head, to just look at the wall behind you, and, oh yeah, don't look down. Trust me, old man, I am Not looking down. You scoot back (if you're me, you scoot back the tiniest bit until he nags you to scoot back more). You tilt your head and neck Way back until you see this stone on the Bottom(!) of this particular wall that you're holding onto for dear life that looks a little different than the rest - like, magically different. Ok, just kidding, calling it magically different would be "baloney" - calling it something more eloquent and subtle would be "blarney". I have yet to come up with that description yet, maybe a didn't kiss the stone long enough. Also, does anyone else find it weird that I'm fascinated by the apparent death-defying-ness of it all, rather than the fact that literally millions of people of indiscernible medical histories kissed this thing before me? Ben does. I'm just still impressed that I did it. Ben did it too, of course, like it was no big deal, like it wasn't just a couple metal bars, a rubber mat, and an old man keeping him from falling to certain death. No big deal. Tough guy..
That mission completed, we used the last few minutes the place was open to explore the garden beside the castle - the poison garden! Seriously, poison. There's a with a skull & cross bones before you walk in warning you not to touch anything or leave children unattended. Everything from nightshade to poppies to wolfsbane to poison ivy was in this place. There was even canibis! It was in its own cage with a friendly sign informing visitors that the plant had been temporarily removed from the exhibit - by the police! I literally laughed out loud. And took a picture of the sign. An ancient historical site got into trouble with the garda for growing weed? What isn't funny about that? What, not laughing? Well, too bad, it was funny at the time. And I have the picture to prove it! Ha. (Yeah, Ben just called me out for laughing about that again as I type this. Jerk.)
It was getting kind of late and we were getting kind of hungry, so we headed out of the park to grab dinner at the Muskerry Arms, a nice big, little pub in town. Dinner was yummy, they had lots of Guinness for Ben and lots of Irish cider for me, so we were both happy. I was being a jet-lagged baby and was complaining about wanting to walk back to go to bed, when the bartender asked - get this - if we were staying for bingo. "It's really good craic," he says. "You'll enjoy it." Bingo? In an Irish pub? What? I was somehow not tired anymore! It was like magic. We quickly learned that Irish bingo is different from American bingo and apparently taken quite seriously. There were a few other pairings of Americans nearby and I feel like we all won a little favor with the local bingo regulars for trying our hand - even if we never won a penny. The bartender apparently liked us because, when we finally said goodnight, he insisted we come back to say goodbye the next day. It seems like something little, but that was actually quite an awesome feeling. I'm excited to head back into town because of that.
Like, head into town right now. Ok, not right now, because I need to bathe and look a little bit presentable, but soon. Back to Blarney Castle to explore more of the grounds, grab one last meal and drink from the Muskerry Arms, say goodbye to our wonderful hostess, and get back on the road towards Kerry. We love you all, we miss you, we can't wait to bring you fun things and show you lots of pictures. Bye for now!
Dublin really was kind of crazy. You get off the plane. Take a shuttle bus to the rental car place. They say, "Drive on the left. Go clockwise through the roundabouts. Here's a map/gps" (Which may or may not be altogether reliable.) And off you go! It's wild! I can't even imagine how much more difficult it would have been had a) it been a manual and/or b) I had to drive! Ha! Because not only are you on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road, but the lane markings are different (if they're there at all), the street signs are hidden and tiny (if they're there at all), and whatever road rules exist (if they're there at all) are seemingly ignored by the majority of the driving population. Bus lane, you say? Eff that bus lane, I'm driving my Fiat here! Motorcycles need to drive in vehicle lanes? Why would I do that when I can drive on the line between two vehicle lanes?? I tried to take photos of some of this insanity while poor Ben drove so you guys can get the full idea once we get home. I doubt I did it justice though. One thing's for certain, driving at home will now seem like a cake walk for both driver and (reluctant) navigator.
Aside from the adventure that is Irish city driving, Dublin is a cool old city. We didn't get to see much of it in our first day, for two key reasons. 1) We (ie, Ben) tried to drive as little as humanly possible. 2) The Guinness Storehouse tour takes Way longer than you'd ever expect. This could be because there was 'complimentary' Guinness involved, but I can't be sure. That place was huge and amazing and full of interesting facts and tidbits. I may not enjoy the taste of the stuff, but I certainly enjoyed the tour. (I can only assume Ben agrees with the latter.) Encompassing seven floors of the old Storehouse (modern day brewing takes place across the street), a discussion of all the neat stuff we came across could take up at least a whole paragraph of its own. Since we still want to get out and be productive today before we get back on the road, I'll just have to leave my description at that. We also explored Trinity College and St. Stephens Green before we hit the Guinness compound. We saw the Book of Kells and a few other religious artifacts as well as an exhibit on the College's medical school there. St. Stephens Green is this big beautiful park just smack in the middle of the city. It's one of those parks that's so rambling and natural that you really do feel like you've escaped the man-made city for something peaceful. There isn't this forced feeling you can get in other city parks I've seen, where you stay on the path and off the grass and you're only there if you've got something productive and healthy to do. Here, there were a good number of people doing that sort of thing, but more than that there were also plenty of people simply lounging on the grass, hanging out with friends after school, enjoying a picnic of take-away food from a nearby cafe, that sort of thing. When we stopped by, we still hadn't quite gotten our bearings yet and didn't really know what to do with our day, so we just plopped down on the grass with our gps and guidebook and people-watched a little while we figured it out. In the sort of chaos of the rest of the city, this park really seems like an asset to the locals.
As beautiful and interesting as parts of the city were, I think we were both glad to head out of it for a more rural setting yesterday afternoon. After hunting around for the elusive Cake Cafe for a late breakfast, we successfully got our butts out of the city and onto the M8 towards County Cork. By the way, the search for Cake Cafe was fruitful and completely worth the effort. We both had the most delicious (gigantic!) cream cheese pancake with some kind of strawberry topping and cinnamon and honest to goodness fresh lemonade. I took pictures. It was worth it. I already have plans to eat there before we catch our flight out again!
The journey to Blarney was certainly an interesting one. Ireland is apparently in the process of updating its major roadways so, although the gps got us successfully out of the city and onto the highway, there was a major swatch of roadway the gps didn't recognize. It assumed we were on some back country road, since we really were driving straight through the countryside, and even told us to turn onto "unnamed road" and "gravel drive" more than once as it tried to figure out where we were. It was a bit frustrating, but also kind of entertaining. We just stayed on the highway until it found us again, with Becky and GoogleMaps helping us over the phone from home. (Thank you!) Even once we got into the little town of Blarney, it was a struggle to find the Blarney Vale B&B. They don't seem to like formal addresses here, so we kept guessing at the street name. We thought we'd found it more than once, but with no luck. We finally broke down and strolled around town to the tourist office, where we got directions from the two friendly people inside. "You go out this way, and you're gonna make a right. But, you know, this road, it makes you go left, but you go right. And then you follow the road for a ways, just follow the road, and you'll pass two big garages, can't miss em, pass two garages and it's da tird house, on the left." Imagine all of this with the adorable local, a bit country, accent and lots of hand gestures from a slightly old gentleman. Add to that repeated emphasis on the two "garages" by the young woman who also worked there, and those were the directions we had. Now let me ask you, what do you picture when you see the word "garages"? Ben and I were both picturing essentially an autobody place, like a big garage where cars get worked on, that sort of thing. No. It took us passing the two gas stations we had passed at least half a dozen times in our earlier searches to realize these were garages! We kept following that road, as the old man instructed, and ran right into a big yellow sign for our B&B. Go figure!
After checking in and seeing our adorable little room (got a picture of that too) we walked (yay, no more driving!) back into town to track down the famous Blarney Stone. We got there with the place only open for about another hour and a half, so we made a beeline for the castle. The map showed a ton of other things to do and see on the grounds, but we didn't have time for that - we had a stone to kiss! The castle, being a castle and all, was cool and old and interesting and everything, but we can talk about that later. Right now I just want to tell you about the mental fortitude it took me to actually kiss the damn thing! So you walk to the top of this old castle, right? And you get to the top (finally) after lots of tiny, twisting, slippery stairs and you're strolling around the old battlements. It's high up. Like, really high up. And then you see the two guys manning the Kiss the Blarney Stone picture station - against the battlements, and, what's this? The big, fancy, professional camera is pointing down? Like, at the floor? Like at a big hole in the floor that's out over the Edge?? Yeah, that's where the Blarney Stone is, people. You lay down on your back, on a rubber cushy mat, the one guy supports your back, reminding you to grab on to the iron bars above your head, to just look at the wall behind you, and, oh yeah, don't look down. Trust me, old man, I am Not looking down. You scoot back (if you're me, you scoot back the tiniest bit until he nags you to scoot back more). You tilt your head and neck Way back until you see this stone on the Bottom(!) of this particular wall that you're holding onto for dear life that looks a little different than the rest - like, magically different. Ok, just kidding, calling it magically different would be "baloney" - calling it something more eloquent and subtle would be "blarney". I have yet to come up with that description yet, maybe a didn't kiss the stone long enough. Also, does anyone else find it weird that I'm fascinated by the apparent death-defying-ness of it all, rather than the fact that literally millions of people of indiscernible medical histories kissed this thing before me? Ben does. I'm just still impressed that I did it. Ben did it too, of course, like it was no big deal, like it wasn't just a couple metal bars, a rubber mat, and an old man keeping him from falling to certain death. No big deal. Tough guy..
That mission completed, we used the last few minutes the place was open to explore the garden beside the castle - the poison garden! Seriously, poison. There's a with a skull & cross bones before you walk in warning you not to touch anything or leave children unattended. Everything from nightshade to poppies to wolfsbane to poison ivy was in this place. There was even canibis! It was in its own cage with a friendly sign informing visitors that the plant had been temporarily removed from the exhibit - by the police! I literally laughed out loud. And took a picture of the sign. An ancient historical site got into trouble with the garda for growing weed? What isn't funny about that? What, not laughing? Well, too bad, it was funny at the time. And I have the picture to prove it! Ha. (Yeah, Ben just called me out for laughing about that again as I type this. Jerk.)
It was getting kind of late and we were getting kind of hungry, so we headed out of the park to grab dinner at the Muskerry Arms, a nice big, little pub in town. Dinner was yummy, they had lots of Guinness for Ben and lots of Irish cider for me, so we were both happy. I was being a jet-lagged baby and was complaining about wanting to walk back to go to bed, when the bartender asked - get this - if we were staying for bingo. "It's really good craic," he says. "You'll enjoy it." Bingo? In an Irish pub? What? I was somehow not tired anymore! It was like magic. We quickly learned that Irish bingo is different from American bingo and apparently taken quite seriously. There were a few other pairings of Americans nearby and I feel like we all won a little favor with the local bingo regulars for trying our hand - even if we never won a penny. The bartender apparently liked us because, when we finally said goodnight, he insisted we come back to say goodbye the next day. It seems like something little, but that was actually quite an awesome feeling. I'm excited to head back into town because of that.
Like, head into town right now. Ok, not right now, because I need to bathe and look a little bit presentable, but soon. Back to Blarney Castle to explore more of the grounds, grab one last meal and drink from the Muskerry Arms, say goodbye to our wonderful hostess, and get back on the road towards Kerry. We love you all, we miss you, we can't wait to bring you fun things and show you lots of pictures. Bye for now!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Leavin' on a jet plane
I'm sitting here on a window ledge, near the only wall outlets at our gate, watching a sweet Kelly green airplane taxi towards me. Awesome, I know. I tried to get a photo of the giant clover on the tail, but Spencer's camera was set to video, so, instead of a photo, I have a three second video of the plane taxiing forward and me muttering in confusion at the tiny camera while I try to switch it to still mode.
We don't board until a little after 9, so we'll probably be grabbing a bite to eat at the restaurant near our gate to kill the time. Ironically enough, the restaurant nearest our gate is Tigin Irish Pub & Restaurant. Fitting, right? It'll probably feel like blasphemy on the way home, after being spoiled with legitimate Irish pubs for a week. (I can't wait.) Not surprisingly, I've already picked out the place I want to visit for breakfast tomorrow morning: Cake Cafe. I trust Bobby Flay's recommendations. He wouldn't lead me astray.
Ok, time to pack this thing up so we can snag a table. Fingers crossed, the next post will be from Dublin!
We don't board until a little after 9, so we'll probably be grabbing a bite to eat at the restaurant near our gate to kill the time. Ironically enough, the restaurant nearest our gate is Tigin Irish Pub & Restaurant. Fitting, right? It'll probably feel like blasphemy on the way home, after being spoiled with legitimate Irish pubs for a week. (I can't wait.) Not surprisingly, I've already picked out the place I want to visit for breakfast tomorrow morning: Cake Cafe. I trust Bobby Flay's recommendations. He wouldn't lead me astray.
Ok, time to pack this thing up so we can snag a table. Fingers crossed, the next post will be from Dublin!
At it again
Hello all! (All seven of you)
It's that time again. Time to get this little blog up and running as Ben and I prepare to depart this lovely country of ours for one distinctly more... green. :) The bags are packed. Goodbyes are said (for the most part). My nails have yet to be bitten completely back in sheer anxiousness. (A victory in and of itself.) I don't know what else to do before we depart for the airport but this, really.
Ben would like me to inform you that the title of the blog has been edited to fit this trip. We have added the subtitle "Travels with Trodden" to the existing heading. He thinks it's only fair. I suppose I agree. Now I just need to figure out how to add that to the main page so it actually shows up in more places than just this post. We've got a decently long layover in JFK, so I can fiddle with it then. Maybe I'll even fiddle with it on my swanky new iPad! (Thanks, Mom & Dad!)
Well, seeing as we haven't left New Castle yet, there isn't too much excitement to report - aside from the obvious: We're going to Ireland!! Ahh! It's difficult for me not to do this little childish hop in place/dance thing any time I think about just how awesome that statement is. You can ask Ben. He laughs at me every time! Ok, but really. That's all for now. We love you all. We miss you already. I'm sure we'll be updating again soon. Ta ta!
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