Ireland – Page 2 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

09-28-2015 The Ring of Kerry

Ireland Day 8 The Ring of Kerry

I am going to be incredibly challenged today to make an attempt for this writing to be even close to adequate to describe our day with no accompanying photos. (Once again, emails had no photos, but now you get them with the blog). I guess it will suffice to say that The Ring of Kerry rivals, and in our opinion even surpasses our beloved Oregon Coast, and even the iconic Highway 1 to Big Sur. The Ring of Kerry (1 of 1)-54

I think the biggest difference is the ability to actually see the ocean and all the islands and coastline from the sometimes high and always very winding and narrow road. Riding in a big tour bus wasn’t the least bit troublesome, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be someone in those little cars fighting for space on the road with those busses. And yes, busses! Lots of them.

Tourism is huge in Ireland, and especially so in this magnificent landscape. Joanne, (my friend who is babysitting Mattie and traveled in Ireland with her husband driving the car)you will be happy to know that they have widened and improved the road a bit, so we decided that it wouldn’t be that difficult to drive, even with the left thing.

It is actually the morning of Day 9 as I write this, and after smashing all our stuff back into the suitcases and putting them outside the door, I have about an hour to try to finish what I had no time to write yesterday.

It started early, with another Irish breakfast (Gak…so glad I like Muesli and yogurt) and on the bus early to fresh strong breezes and beautiful shifting skies. Within a few minutes of leaving the hotel, we stopped at the Moriarity shop at the foot of the Dunloe Gap, made even more dramatic by the flying clouds in all shades of gray and white against the blue skies. We commented yesterday that we haven’t experienced anything even close to air pollution so far anywhere in this country, even Dublin. The air has been perfectly clean and fresh and gorgeous everywhere we go.

The shop fit right in with the elegant and expensive vibe of Killarney, with luscious Donegal tweeds, Irish linen, soft woven plaid throws, and anything your heart could desire from Ireland on the higher end of good stuff, opposed to the kitchy stuff in the souvenir shops that are everywhere.

Again, hard to explain the moment, but the wild air and shifting skies, shadows on the granitic mountains of Killarney to the south, the sound of Irish music lifted me to a place of happiness that was much like what I felt last winter hiking in Joshua Tree. It is a wonderful feeling that I don’t remember from my younger days, a deep unreasonable happiness that is so in the moment and so not related to anything going on in my head. I do love that feeling and treasure it when it comes so surprisingly.

Once we left the shop, after a few more miles we stopped at The Red Fox, a classic pub with another view of the mountains, where Irish Coffee and Baileys were served at ten in the morning. It had a great feeling to it, with a couple of hundred years of history behind it to help offset the hordes of tourists and the gaggle of tourist busses parked outside. I loved it.

Sad to say, Mo is dealing with a throat thing, so I hope that the hot Irish coffee might have helped it feel better. With only half an hour to absorb the vibe, we were again on our way following the north to south route around the Ring. And yes, in spite of the gorgeous scenery, and excellent stops, this day felt like a tour, a rushed tour, where it was impossible to see the entire thing without feeling as though there was no time to linger and really enjoy it. Ring of Kerry is a destination for sure, with at least a week to two to hike, kayak the lakes, walk the coastline, enjoy the towns, drink in the pubs, and languish in beautiful and very expensive bed and breakfast establishments.

Before long the expanse of Dingle Bay stretched out before us, with several stops along the way for photos. Thank goodness we weren’t relegated to moving shots through the reflections of the bus window glass. Another stop at a craft shop specializing in woolens included a wonderful performance put on by the sheepherder Brendan Ferris and his prize winning sheep dogs. I heard comments from folks who had seen similar shows throughout Scotland that weren’t nearly as wonderful. These dogs are not only well trained sheep dogs, but are agility champions in the UK and Ireland. We were introduced to several breeds of sheep, with their wool and meat used for different purposes, and I was tickled to see how well those sheep were trained too.

Watching the dogs work the sheep on the backlit hillside had a strange effect on me, one repeated throughout the day. I cried. Big silly tears and that stinging feeling behind the eyes. Ireland seems to affect me on an emotional level that is completely ridiculous, and completely without explanation. It is a nice feeling, a welling of emotion, triggered by a shepherd calling his sheep, an Irish jig, blooming heather, and most of all the wind off the Atlantic Ocean. I had no idea I would respond this way to Ireland, thinking it was just another nice destination for us. No clue. Still don’t get it all the way, but whatever the source, it is delightfully fun for someone like me who enjoys feeling things a lot.

Continuing along the coastline, with photo stops at the high points overlooking the ocean, we came to the town of Waterville, much like the coastal beach towns along our own coast, if a bit more charming in the warm afternoon sunlight. We are entering the world of famously good Irish seafood, with lobster, oysters, clams, crab and all sorts of fish the highlight of the menu. Another reason you would love to visit County Kerry, Killarney, and The Ring of Kerry, Deborah.

The fish and chips fragrance wafting from the small town was so enticing, but Isabella had something a bit more special in store for us. Down the road, at the most famous high point of the Ring drive Scarriff Inn Vista Bar and Restaurant overlooks the sea in all directions.

It was what is referred to here as a “self service”, but this one was really nice. They specialized in traditional Irish food, with Irish Stew with excellent lamb, and Shepherd’s Pie being the main items on the list.

We opted for the Shepherd’s Pie, a good ground beef stew topped with mashed potatoes and cheese and topped off under the grill, served with two excellent side salads, the wonderful crusty rolls that we are seeking out whenever we can find them, and a glass of red. Lunch was accompanied by tables along the window with the warm sun lighting up the beautiful dining room, and views to forever across the Atlantic and the coast in both directions. The food was fabulous, the view was perfect, it was an excellent place to enjoy the Ring of Kerry.

Afterward we continued south, with expansive views of ancient Celtic forts, sheep on the hills, brilliant reflections on the ocean, green green grass, and finally to the small colorful village of Sneem. With only a short stop, we still had time to walk to the river, eat a homemade ice cream cone, and find a geotour shop on the square that seduced me with rock samples, geology walk brochures, and yes, a big fat book of Irish geology. I am in heaven, my favorite kind of tour book, so worth the euros and the weight.

Mo and I both loved Waterville and Sneem, and decided that we could easily spend two weeks to a month here right on the Ring of Kerry, staying at a B&B in Sneem, and there are plenty to chose from. Sneem has weekly geology walks, gorgeous wildflowers, beautiful hikes in the hills and along the coast, great food, a wonderful small village feeling that was so enticing.

By late afternoon we were descending through the Molls Gap and down the winding mountain roads past the gorgeous lakes of Killarney National Park into the town of Killarney. Isabella was so proud of her plan to drop all of us off in town for more shopping before the bus returned to the hotel, a few miles from the town center. Several of us rebelled, shopping being low on our list after a long day riding, and Mo and I saw just enough of Killarney to find an ATM and a taxi stand. The trip back to the hotel was 12 Euro, but worth every penny since it gave us two full hours before we had to be ready to catch the bus back to town for our evening entertainment. The Ring of Kerry (1 of 1)-83

Most folks on this tour are paying for the tour organized and sponsored Castle Dinners with Irish Entertainment, very expensive, and often with preset food that isn’t all that great. We have skipped those in favor of the scenic tours that we couldn’t see any other way.

Yesterday, however, our bus driver and Isabella suggested a special show in town called Celtic Steps, and with free transportation and only 27.50 Euro for the show, we thought it would be a good choice. Good choice is an understatement! The show with lilting Irish music, bodhran drumming, Irish violin, and a young woman with a beautiful voice singing haunting songs in Gaelic was incredible. And yeah, I cried. I cried when she sang, I cried when the step dancers tore up the stage, I cried when the two men did that competition drumming thing with the bodhrans. Go figure. As I said, Ireland makes me cry.

Celtic Steps was like a mini Riverdance, with less than a dozen people, but they were so incredibly good, such fabulous musicians and entertainers, full of stories and songs and fabulous dancing. We got home by 11, and fell into bed exhausted, but still had trouble falling asleep after all the energy of the music and the breathtaking beauty of the day. I have managed to get this finished in time to go catch the bus this morning. Whew! We will be heading north toward Galway today, with a stop at Bunratty Castle..ABC…”Another Bloody Castle” where there is a small authentic folk village with demonstrations of early Irish life.

I do hope I have some energy left to actually explore Galway a bit this evening and find some of that great seafood.

I just realized that in all the excitement about seeing the Ring of Kerry, I forgot entirely that I started my day at 2:30 AM, setting the alarm to wake me in time to see the total lunar eclipse of the Supermoon. The skies were crystal clear, with brilliant stars and no clouds anywhere. Even though there was some ambient light from the hotel, I still managed to set up my little travel tripod on the picnic table to watch and try to photograph the beautiful moon.

It was just a little bit chilly, but the winds smelled wonderful, and the only sounds were the leaves around me rustling as I watched the moon turn from brilliant to just a sliver and then to a dusky red orange. Great way to start the day, and I even got a couple of hours of sleep after going back to bed.

Next up: Bunratty Castle and Galway….my least favorite day of the trip

09-27-2015 Cobh, Blarney Castle, and Killarney National Park

Ireland Day 7 Waterton to Cobh to Blarney Castle to Killarney National Park

Killarney National Park

The letter I write tonight just might end up truncated to Yeah, we did this, we did that, now we are going to bed. My brain is completely fried and crazy. We just had dinner with the 31 people we don’t know from Adam who are in our traveling bunch. For some reason, on this tour, there are only 9 men, and 3 of them seem to be really enjoying their status as big dogs in the pack because they are so incredibly loud and raucous and obnoxious that you can’t hear yourself, much less anyone else. Dinner was ok enough, but in an enclosed banquet room with the most awful acoustics I think I have ever experienced. Trial by noise. GAK! Port of Cobh (25 of 27)

In spite of that first paragraph, today was excellent, with another day of gorgeous weather as we traveled south toward the Celtic Sea and the town of Cobh (pronounced Cove because there is no V in the Celtic alphabet). Called Queenstown for a time under English rule, it was restored to Cove aka Cobh when the English at last turned over the Republic of Ireland to its rightful people.

Site of the last port of the Titanic before it sunk, and just a few miles from the site of the sinking of the Lusitania, there was an excellent museum, and a great storyteller who regaled us with tales of the Irish emigrants. Most interesting moment of the day was when we stood in the building that was no doubt the one where my ancestors embarked for the United States from Ireland. Kinda cool.

I knew that we were going to see the Titanic Museum in Belfast, so thought that maybe this small museum would be less interesting. (Not so, as I later found out). The Cobh Heritage Center in the small port town was focused on the emigrants who left Ireland from this port, more so than those who sailed from here as their last port of call before the great Titanic went down.

During the storyteller’s presentation, he had each of us take a ticket, representing one of the passengers who emigrated from this port. Mo drew Annie Moore, who at 15 years of age was the first immigrant to be processed at the newly opened Ellis Island in New York in 1892.

After a coffee Mo and I decided that we needed to walk around a bit and decided to climb the steps to the church high above us on the bluff. We found the statue of Annie Moore, and then hiked to the top of the bluff to enjoy the view. Cobh looked like it might be an interesting place to explore.

This part of Ireland reminds me a lot of Seattle, more overgrown and treed, thick and lush with vegetation, and more green, but the kind that makes me claustrophobic. At times today as we drove along the coast toward the town of Cork, the ivy covered stone walls were not even a foot from the glass in the bus window.

Driving through the green countryside, along the coastal route between Cobh and Cork was lovely. As we passed through Killorglin, we learned about the King of all Irish Festivals, the Puck Fair. Considered one of the oldest festivals in Ireland, a wild mountain goat is crowned King and reigns over the town for three days.

Port of Cobh to Cork (5 of 10) Every year a goat catcher goes up into the mountains to catch a wild goat. The goat is brought back to the town and the “Queen of Puck”, traditionally a young school girl from one of the local primary schools, crowns the goat “King Puck“.On August 10th, The “King” is then paraded through the town before being elevated onto a high stand in the town square for three days. On the 3rd day of the fair, he is brought down to be led back to his mountain home. In the middle of the town square, he is crowned which signifies that the festivities may begin. It sounded like a lot of fun, something to enjoy in an Irish summer if you could handle the crowds and the craziness.

We continued through Cork, a fairly large city along the river Lee. As our bus negotiated the crowded streets, Isabella introduced us to the tradition of the Stag Do, or the Irish version of the bachelor party. It seems that often the men must dress according to the wishes of the bride, and often she has them wearing women’s dress. Of course, we passed several large groups of men dressed this way carousing on the streets (it was early in the day!) and Isabella said they were definitely doing the Stag Do thing.

There is so much to see in Ireland, and as we passed through the towns and cities, I realized how impossible it is to see a country in just two weeks. Mo and I laughed about how in the world someone would see the US in such a short time. What would you choose to focus on anyway?! I tried to imagine that I had someone coming from another country who had never seen the US. What would I want to show them? And how many amazing parts of the country would have to be skipped over to get to the chosen parts?

Of course, being tourists on a tour of Ireland, it was imperative that we stop at Blarney Castle. Before climbing the castle, we had lunch at the huge and incredibly busy cafeteria at the Blarney Woolen Mills, a treasure trove of Waterford Crystal, Aran woolens, Irish Linen, and Irish spirits. With no time to shop and no space in the suitcase, I was spared any indulgence.

We then had to make the decision whether or not to climb the 123 tiny worn stone steps to kiss the Blarney Stone. Yeah, lots of advice to absolutely never actually kiss the dirty thing, but after climbing all those steps, worthwhile just for the views and the fun of it, I wasn’t about to miss taking my turn at hanging upside down and touching my lips to the very smooth rock. Clean and dry by the way, not the least bit icky.

Blarney Castle and the Stone (17 of 32) Seems as though until a few decades ago, there were no protective rails and to kiss the stone you had to literally hang over the hole as someone held your heels and your life was very much in danger. Not so any more, but climbing those steps in that tiny space was definitely a bit challenging. Down was worse for me, because the ups had a great thick strong rope to hold and there were a ton of people holding up the line so it moved very slowly. We had a couple of sweet young boys with gorgeous legs and butts in front of us, who were also quite talkative and fun to be around to keep us entertained on the trip up. Blarney Castle and the Stone (16 of 32)

In order to actually kiss the stone, you must climb the steps with the crowds, and que in line waiting your turn. It happens quickly, especially with everyone watching. There is a pad on the rock so you can get down there and a couple of strong guys to help you bend over backwards and then get back up. Blarney Castle and the Stone (21 of 32) It is funny watching everyone our age trying to get back up, until it is time for you to do it! I got down, kissed the stone, and tried not to make a fool of myself as I got back up and out of the way for the next person. Mo climbed the steps, but decided to skip the kissing part. Blarney Castle and the Stone (22 of 32)

Once back down from the castle, we explored the beautiful gardens. They were lush and beautiful, filled with all the plants so familiar to the Pacific Northwest, this time reminding me even more of the gardens in Vancouver and Victoria with huge gunnera plants that I love, potato vine that grew wild at Mo’s place on the California coast, in full bloom, roses, ivy, ferns, red hot pokers in full bloom. It all seemed so familiar. Blarney Castle and the Stone (18 of 32)

I tried to get a couple of selfies of the waterfalls and the gunnera plants, and wasn’t all that successful, but you get the idea. Blarney Castle and the Stone (31 of 32)

Once we left Blarney, we continued west toward County Kerry and the town of Killarney and Killarney National Park. The park has 28,000 acres of gorgeous trails, “mountains” ( all of 3,000 feet high at the most), one large and several small lakes, and the finest tourist and “holiday” town you could want. Isabella had arranged an extra little activity for us, and even though it was after five when we arrived, there were a group of “Jaunty Cars” waiting to take us all around the national park where cars aren’t allowed. No one had a clue what a jaunty car was until we actually arrived and saw the horses and carriages waiting. Killarney National Park (9 of 37) Killarney National Park (7 of 37)

Killarney National Park (14 of 37) The landscape here is quite a bit different than the parts of Ireland we have seen so far, with low mountains, more evergreens on the slopes, winding roads and canyons and lots more rock, mostly volcanic rock from what I can gather, old volcanic rock with no sign really of tectonic or volcanic stuff going on any time recently. Meaning in the last few million years or so.

Killarney National Park (11 of 37) The trails through the park were charming and Ross Castle looked incredibly romantic on the small peninsula jutting out into the lake.

It was all quite lovely actually, if incredibly touristy. In fact our entire day was completely designed for being a tourist, from being at the wharf in Cobh where the cruise ships land, to Blarney Castle where all the tourists in the world are sucked into the myth, to the high end ritzy park that is another magnet for tourists. Ah well, so be it. We are tourists, and today was a Tourist Day in capital letters. Killarney National Park (26 of 37)

This is the kind of day where photos are the only way to do it justice, so you will just have to wait for them, I guess. (No photos in these original emails I sent to the daughters, but at last photos are processed and ready to add to the story). Killarney National Park (35 of 37)

Dinner is over and I am going to fall into bed, but I have a supermoon to catch, and hopefully an eclipse over that supermoon to photograph, or at least attempt it. I have the alarm set for 2 am, and it is now ten. I am going straight to bed as of this moment!

The SmugMug photos for this day are linked here.

Next: the 120 mile trip around the famous Ring of Kerry, Ireland’s answer to Highway 1 and Big Sur on the California Coast.

09-26-2015 The Rock of Cashel

Ireland Day 6 Part 2 Visiting the Rock of Cashel

The morning exploring Waterford had been gorgeous, but the skies had clouded up a bit over Waterford as we left. Once again, however, by early afternoon as we approached the small city of Cashel, there was more sun than clouds and the lighting was brilliant. The Rock of Cashel sits atop a large limestone hill, standing above the surrounding rolling countryside like a beacon. The buildings are always in some state of repair, especially since the unusual snowfall of 2013, and there are scaffoldings around the buildings to support the ongoing reconstruction.

While the buildings are from the 12th to 16th century, the Rock was chosen by one of the tribes from Wales called the Eoghanachta clan, who later went on to conquer much of Munster and became kings of the region. For some 400 years it rivaled Tara as a center of power in Ireland. The clan is associated with St Patrick, hence the alternative name of St Patrick’s Rock. The clan lost possession of the rock in the 10th century to the O’Brien tribe. It was then donated by the O’Brien’s to the Church in order to gain favor with Rome.

Numerous buildings have occupied the rock over the years, but the relics that have survived are from the 12th to the 17th century. We enjoyed the guided tour of the buildings, although once again the standing around got terribly tiresome, and I wandered off several times to photograph the amazing Irish landscape with the distant mountains and the Celtic crosses in the cemetery in the foreground. I do so hope that I caught at least a bit of what it felt like to stand there on the Rock of Cashel.

There is a back story to the rock that I love, however, the story of its Celtic origins, and even before the arrival of the Celts, when the people were close to the earth and worshipped the female deities that oversaw birth, fertility, and death. I studied about the images of Sheela Na Gig many years ago, and have a small replica that I treasure. There are more Sheela Na Gig carvings in Ireland than anywhere else, with 101 examples in Ireland and 45 in the rest of Britain. Wikipedia has some extensive information about the Sheela Na Gigs.

As is often the case in these early Christian sites, the goddess religions were suppressed by the conquering Christians, but they were smart enough to keep the local goddesses and rituals and incorporated many of them into the Christian traditions. St Patrick is the epitome of this as his mission was to eliminate the Old Religion from Ireland aka the legend of his miraculously getting rid of the “snakes”. There are no snakes to get rid of in Ireland, but the original Celts, wandering tribes who came to Ireland a few hundred years before Christ, brought with them their images and snake symbols.

Still, as the religions shifted, the powerful sites remained, chosen as places of worship and power for reasons that I think go much deeper than religion. Right next to the cross of St Patrick, is an original Sheela Na Gig from the Rock of Cashel. Loved seeing her there, secretly reminding me that a deep connection to God may not always be through the organized religions.

The Rock of Cashel (50 of 76) Many examples of the Celtic Cross are also in the cemetery behind the cathedral on the rock. Quoted here from Wiki;

“In Ireland, it is a popular legend that the Celtic Christian cross was introduced by Saint Patrick or possibly Saint Declan during his time converting the pagan Irish, though there are no examples from this early period. It has often been claimed that Patrick combined the symbol of Christianity with the sun cross, to give pagan followers an idea of the importance of the cross by linking it with the idea of the life-giving properties of the sun. Other interpretations claim that placing the cross on top of the circle represents Christ’s supremacy over the pagan sun.”

I can’t imagine that there is a more iconic view of Ireland that the brilliant green valleys from the Rock of Cashel with the Celtic Crosses in the foreground. Can’t wait to get to these pictures and see if they are as wonderful as they look in the camera.

Forgot to mention that we had an hour or so before our tour of the Rock to explore the little town of Cashel and find lunch. Options were to choose the “self service” restaurant with their typical choices of quiche, salads, bread and soup, go down to O’Brien’s Pub on the Main Street, a cutesy place with traditional pub food and more beer, or wander off on our own. The Rock of Cashel (4 of 76) While we have enjoyed conversing with “the women” as we call them, we both really needed some time away from the crowds and the constant talking. We wandered along, finding a tiny little local spot called Morelli’s, where we had pizza and a little bit of red wine. It was a nice change from beer and potatoes and pubs. As the afternoon drew to a close with the 90 minute ride home, Isabella brought out the copies of lyrics to old Irish songs, “Molly Malone” and “I’ll Be a Rover No More”. In spite of the groans and protestations, we all ended up singing on the bus as we traveled home through the countryside. It was fun in spite of the complaining and rolling eyes.

We were home in time to walk the streets in search of fish and chips and a beer, deciding again that we didn’t want to try to eat in the very gorgeous, very fancy, and very popular pub here in the Granville. With a moment to rest, we were back out walking and found Dooley’s Hotel, where we settled in for fish and chips and a glass of beer for me and a glass of wine for Mo. Sadly, it wasn’t all that great, and as I am looking at the internet as I write, I realize that the recommended best fish and chips ever, are at a place called “Dooly’s Fish and Chips”. Obviously not the place we thought we were dining. The “real” Dooly’s was not within walking distance somewhere out along the river. Note to self, check the spelling when searching and don’t search when tired!

Walking back to the hotel, I got a phone shot of the rising Supermoon, and since I didn’t pack the camera along for supper, thinking the phone would suffice, I can’t give you a supermoon photo, Deanna. Maybe, however, I can manage one tonight, and possibly I can get myself out of bed at 3 in the morning tomorrow to try to see the Supermoon and the total lunar eclipse that will be visible from our location in Killarney.

It is now 1AM, and not a peep of noise from anywhere is to be heard. I can pack in the morning and actually manage to get some decent sleep in preparation for climbing all those steps at Blarney Castle and kissing the Blarney Stone tomorrow.

The rest of the photos of the Rock of Cashel are on my SmugMug site here.

Next: The Blarney Stone and Blarney Castle and on our way to Killarney

09-26-2015 Waterford and the Waterford Crystal Factory

Ireland Day 6 Waterford and the Waterford Crystal Factory

At ten last night, when I finally finished writing and fell into bed, the music started. Seems as though there was a wedding at the hotel and the incredibly loud and raucous band could be heard. Not well, mind you, but that boom boom boom sound of music that vibrates the floors but doesn’t give you the satisfaction of actually hearing the words or melody. I put in the ear plugs, which did very little to make a difference, and while Mo slept peacefully through the noise, I was awake until 2am when I actually heard the voices of the musicians signing off for the night…you know….that thing they do yelling ‘bye’ and ‘thanks’ and then everyone joining in to sing ‘American Pie.’ Would have been nice if it had been that kind of music all night, but instead it was unintelligible whatever that sounded like heavy metal power chords coming through the walls and vibrating the floor. Walking around Waterford (22 of 33)

So this evening, as we entered the hotel after a very long and once again tiring day, I stopped at the desk to ask if there was going to be music again tonight. She smiled and said, yes, but that we really shouldn’t be able to hear it clear down on the end where we were located. I laughed and said, OK, I’ll plan accordingly. Which is exactly what we did. I put in the earplugs, decided to skip packing until the middle of the night, and fell into a deep and very satisfying sleep around 9, with plans to be ready to write when I woke up to the booming.

Well, here it is, almost midnight, and I don’t hear a sound. Maybe it was really the wedding and not the normal music from the hotel. Whatever. I’m grateful, and still decided I had better get up and write anyway.

We woke this morning to gorgeous, crystal clear skies with the sun rising over the water of the Suir River across the street. Suir is pronounced “Sure” and is another one of the major rivers in Ireland. Isabella told us today that the Shannon was actually the largest river, with an impressive length of more than 300 miles. Hmmm. Not many rivers in the US that I know of that are merely 300 miles in length.

Breakfast was at 7:45 and we were to be at the lobby downstairs by 8:30 for our walking tour of Waterford on our way to the famous crystal factory. When the manager told us yesterday that Baileys and other spirits would be served with the organic oatmeal, we thought he was joking. He wasn’t, and I must say that breakfast was almost as impressive as last night’s dinner.

I included this fuzzy iPhone photo because I had to prove it!

We were treated to the buffet, with dozens of choices, including the porridge station, and then once we sat down were served the traditional Irish breakfast on hot plates. I had yogurt, fruit, nuts and dried fruits with my porridge, topped with flavored honeys Turkish style, and liberally doused with Bailey’s Irish Cream, and skipped the hot breakfast. I did decide it was time for me to get over my unwillingness to try the local stuff, and took a bite of the black pudding. While I was tasting, someone mentioned that they don’t actually use blood any more, just dried blood. Give me credit, I at least tried it, but I wasn’t all that happy about it. I won’t need to do that one again. Ick and double ick. Happy for the tart grapefruit juice I had to get it down and get that taste out of my mouth. I might have Irish blood in me, but I certainly don’t have any kind of taste for that particular Irish staple!

With the clear skies and very little chance of rain to come today, I decided that my Oofos would be the perfect footwear choice. It was quite chilly, however, I laughed to see that 2 others out of our group of 31 had decided on sandals as well. Can’t beat those Oofos for a cushy bottom and the ability to go anywhere. I once hiked along the Snake River in Hells Canyon with those things on.

Morning along the river was sparkling and gorgeous, and Isabella led our group along Coal Quay to Custom House Quay, telling us little tidbits along the way of the Viking invasions, the sacking of the local people and development of a port here in Waterford. Walking around Waterford (19 of 33)

We saw Reginald’s Tower, the oldest complete building in Ireland, and the first to use mortar. The Normans built its 3 to 4 meter thick walls on the site of a Viking tower that stood there from the 1100’s. We learned even more Viking history, which I promptly forgot. Isabella regaled us with lots of stories and historical tidbits that were entertaining, but after a bit they all started to run together. The only way I could track everything was to go back and actually read about it later. Here Isabella and one of the people in our group are yukking it up at some touristy Viking site. I guess a Viking married a local girl, who unlike many tribal societies, had the ability to choose her own mate.

We enjoyed the Viking ship replica nearby, trying to imagine crossing the Atlantic Ocean in this galley, with no protection and no place to go except to row. Trying to imagine how the men slept took some creative thinking. We wandered through the side roads toward the Medieval Museum, cathedral, and art galleries. These museums and galleries tell the story of Ireland’s oldest city, celebrating its 1100th anniversary in 2014. A walk that could have been completed in ten minutes, took an hour.

I am so terrible at this tour stuff, with long stretched out strides being my walking style of choice, and taking little mincing steps in a huge batch of folks just about kills me. Can’t do it for long without rebelling.

I knew this included tour of the Waterford Crystal Factory was another one of those inside things put on by the tour company to sell “stuff” and get a good commission for their recommendations. Entering the building with a bit of an attitude, and a determination that I certainly didn’t need a piece of Waterford crystal, within minutes my skepticism was completely shattered, no pun intended!

The entrance gallery was lovely enough, but when the wide double doors opened to the multimedia display of light and sound I thought I was in some Disney ride. After being exposed to this light show, more wide doors opened as our young guide led us into the workrooms of these world class craftsmen.

Most of the blowers and engravers have been with the company for 25 to 45 years and currently they are very proud of the one new young woman who has completed her five year apprenticeship. We were treated to up close interaction with full photo privileges of each step in the process, handling the heavy crystal at various stages of development. I have visited glass blowers in many places, delighting in the process, but have never seen anything quite like this.

In fact the creation of crystal is a complicated and extremely skilled operation, which involves the initial ingredients of silica sand, potash and letharge (which contains the lead) being mixed within a furnace, raging at 1200 degrees Celsius. The molten crystal is then removed and, with the primitive tools of blocks and moulds, blowers then work their magic to begin the journey from molten crystal to masterpiece.

One will never find Waterford Crystal seconds for the simple reason that any piece which is seen as less than perfect, is literally thrown back into the furnace. So, while unfortunately it is impossible to buy bargain price pieces, you can at least be certain that each Waterford Crystal item is perfect. Waterford Crystal Factory Tour (19 of 35)

I took a ridiculous number of photos of the amazing craftsmen at their work, and by the time I reached the showroom, I knew that without a doubt, I would try to find a piece of Waterford to add to my small collection of world “stuff” to remember Ireland. I succeeded, and for a very reasonable sum, found a small vase that I will treasure. It is a very classy place, as you would expect, and the sales process is refined and incredibly helpful, with shipping to the US for a very reasonable fee making the whole thing as simple as pulling out the credit card and filing in the blanks. Waterford Crystal Factory Tour (20 of 35)

After a few minutes to enjoy a good cup of coffee “having a cawfee” as Melody and I remember from Vienna, we ambled out to again be the first on the bus. I have to say we aren’t greedy, and choose our seats about 1/3 of the way back so as not to always hog the front. But I do want to get my seat and am willing to fight for it. Glad I don’t have to. Waterford Crystal Factory Tour (33 of 35)

Leaving town, we traveled north through the countryside for about an hour and a half toward the town of Cashel, and the iconic Irish Rock of Cashel.

The Rock of Cashel (1 of 76) The only thing about being on the bus that is frustrating is the inability to stop and take photos, or to even catch something as we pass by. Always so many reflections, and always the perfect little thatched roof cottage shows up before I can get the camera back out and turned on. I tried to keep it off for a time since I had been rather extravagant for the first half of the day and didn’t want to lose anything from the afternoon. I had two batteries with me for the day, but one ran out a bit early on.

The Rock of Cashel (3 of 76) I love the Lumix camera but it definitely is a battery hog, especially when I choose to review the photos as I shoot. I am trying to eliminate the throw-aways as I go since I don’t have an upload method with the iPad, and the photos for this entire trip will be held on two giant cards. Hopefully they are giant enough. Still shooting RAW and JPEG, but considering stopping the RAW format if I have to.

Rock of Cashel map The only time I really miss the DSLR is when the lighting situations are full of contrast, and lighting contrast is my most seductive weakness. I love shooting into that late afternoon slanting sun to capture the golden moments. I guess I won’t know how my bridge camera is doing until I get back home. As Erin reminds me, don’t expect it to be a DSLR, it isn’t. But so far I think I am getting some good photos that will satisfy my craving to remember what that Irish green actually looked like.

Next up: The Rock of Cashel, Part 2 of Day 6

September 25 County Kildare, Kilkenny, and on to Waterford

Ireland Day 5 County Kildare, Kilkenny, and on to Waterford

Something tells me that this story will be a bit shorter than the last few I have written. I know from experience that it is vital to put the notes down while they are fresh, but that requires that I am also fresh, at least a little bit. Tonight, however, I am anything but fresh. A pint and a half of Guinness, a glass of wine with an truly magnificent dinner in a magnificent hotel restaurant, and I am completely worn out.

It is that time during a tour when things start running together and I classically get too full of stuff to take the time to write. Back in the days of my hand written journals, these are the days when the journaling suddenly stops and I have no idea what happened. In the days of the blog, when I can blog fairly live, I do a bit better, but there comes a time as well that I have to finish the blog once we are home and recreate how I felt from reviewing the photos.

I refuse to do that this time. For one thing, the daughters have said they are waiting impatiently for each update. Thanks, Deb and Melody, for pushing me because tonight I would probably just crash into these lovely white sheets and comforters watching the Pope do his thing on CNN as he visits the US. Nice. Here we actually have CNN, which we didn’t have back in Dublin.

I had some amazing moments today. Moments I can barely describe because they leave me a bit at a loss for words. Is there such a thing as genetic memory? Having never been to Ireland, I have no reason to feel familiar with it, but as we rode the countryside of County Kilkenny today it felt incredibly familiar, as if I were in a place of home somehow. We settled into the bus late in the afternoon, after playing with the horses at the National Stud back in County Kildare and the deeper we went into the landscape the more beautiful it felt to me. And I don’t think this is even supposed to be the especially beautiful part of Ireland.

Still, the rolling hills, the incredibly green fields bounded by shorn and unshorn hedge rows, the crisp little white houses, some trimmed with blue and some with lavender, and most surrounded by flowers in full color, were just so moving. Cows are everywhere, but as I once said as a kid, they were cows, not cattle. Cattle belong in the western rangelands, a landscape completely foreign to this island. Here the cows are mostly Holsteins and Jerseys, important for the rich Irish butter and thick cream that is everywhere in Ireland. The only tan colored fields were of recently harvested barley, the stubble still standing. Barley is beer, and Ireland is nothing it not beer country. Literally. The Guinness folks are some of the richest in the world.

Potatoes were being dug as well, and huge fields of cabbage were thick and green in the shifting light. Mo said she was surprised that I loved the landscape so much since it was cloudy. Well, maybe cloudy, but definitely NOT gloomy. The skies change every minute, and the darkness of shifting sunshine is offset by the wide open views from horizon to horizon. It isn’t closed in, it is open and fresh and brilliant. I simply loved it.

01 Irish National Stud and Gardens (2 of 52) I suppose my mood was colored a bit by the lilting voice of an Irish lass wafting through the bus music system. Irish music of a completely different sort than the raucous drinking songs that we heard in Dublin. Kind of a cross between Enya and Loreena McKennit, musicians that I used to listen to all the time, who have fallen by the wayside in my listening habits over the last few years. Does it sound completely silly that as I watched the landscape roll by riding on a tourist bus listening to music, that I felt tears of something or other stinging my eyes. The whole thing made me cry. Not sad, or melancholy, just emotional. An amazing moment that I tried to convey to Mo in words, but I’m not sure she got it. I am not sure that I even got it. It was a great feeling though, one of those moments that stand out years later in memory for no reason whatsoever, one of those moments that you can get traveling and not so easily any other way. 01 Irish National Stud and Gardens (1 of 52) The day started early, with us putting our big suitcases outside at 7am and going down to breakfast. This time I knew well enough to keep myself happy with a banana sliced up into Muesli with milk, a good cup of coffee, and a part of a croissant. All tasty and quite satisfying.

Seat wars are sometimes a facet of group travel, and since I get notoriously car sick in the back of the bus, Mo and I were careful to be out at the bus before anyone else, standing in the very chilly air in order to pick a good seat with no post in the view and far enough forward that I wouldn’t get sick. I brought my wrist bands, but they are carefully packed in the big suitcase which was carefully loaded into the cargo bay. Tonight they are sitting here by the phone and my sunglasses, not to be forgotten again as we continue down the curving winding roads in the big soft wiggly bus.

After our walking tour of the city, I was surprised to see that Dublin is really a huge metropolis of 1.5 million people, sprawling over the valley along the south side of the river Liffey much like Seattle along the Sound. It is huge. We traveled on a fairly new highway, a freeway that our guide called a “flyover”, telling us how great it was to travel this new fast road from Dublin to Waterford.

Within an hour, we arrived at the beautiful grounds of the Irish National Stud. Established in 1900 by Colonel William Hall Walker, who had a passion for horses, what once was a private stud farm was later donated to the Irish people and is now one of Europe’s premier studs.

Not only was Walker a horse lover, he was an astrologer who believed he could pick race horses based on their birth positions, and was an avid gardener. The stud is a beautiful horse farm, but it is also an incredible garden. The Japanese garden rivaled any I have seen, and no, I haven’t been to Japan, but there are some amazing Japanese gardens on the west coast that are pretty darn spectacular. 01 Irish National Stud and Gardens (11 of 52) This garden was whimsical, and wonderful, a treasure of plants that reminded me very much of Bloedel in Vancouver, of the arboretum at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, and the Japanese gardens in Seattle.

From what I could see, many of the plants were similar to what can be grown in our moist northwest climate, but just a bit warmer. Maritime influence must be strong here, and we saw tender plants in bloom that reminded me of all the English gardening books that were my personal bibles back in the 80’s when I was learning to garden with flowers and plants and especially perennials. 01 Irish National Stud and Gardens (18 of 52)

The stud houses some very famous horses, and our guide was incredibly knowledgeable, really cute, and full of all sorts of raunchy information that he delivered with a great sense of humor. After all, breeding horses is all about these big guys “getting it on”, and they do so with great enthusiasm.

01 Irish National Stud and Gardens (30 of 52) Invincible Spirit was probably the most famous horse currently munching in the pastures, but the list of important stallions that came from this stud is long and impressive. The foals from Invincible Spirit are worth in the hundreds of thousands of Euros with a stud fee of €100,000.00.

We saw the covering barn, the stalls of the stallions that were much like rather nice apartment complexes, and the famous stallions in the fields. We then walked through more gardens, and on to the mares and foals, and then to the retired geldings put out to pasture, including the guys that do the “teasing” to get the mares ready and the mares that will foster babies who have lost their mom.It was a wonderful morning, full of sunny blue skies and fresh air.

Once back in the bus, continuing toward the south and County Kilkenny, the ride through the countryside was wonderful, even as the skies darkened with afternoon clouds.

We arrived in the town of Kilkenny in time to wander for about 90 minutes before our scheduled tour of Kilkenny Castle, an old stone fortress on the banks of the River Nore. 02 Kilkenny and Kilkenny Castle (5 of 35) Kilkenny is a Medieval town, with abbeys, and castles, and narrow winding medieval streets. Isabella pointed out a pub as we drove by saying it was among the best, giving us directions to return if we chose. We did. It was an interesting place, with many small rooms and some truly beautiful bars, but it didn’t have that immediate intimacy that we enjoyed so much yesterday at Merchants.

Still, the pint of Guinness was perfectly poured as is the custom. It is something about that foamy wonderfulness with the creamy head just sitting above the edge of the glass that is so much fun. That toasty slightly burned flavor from the accident of burned hops that made the beer in the first place is really nice too. The best part were the “chips”. French Fries in the US. One thing Ireland knows how to do really well besides make beer is cook potatoes. I am not sure I have had fries this good anywhere except yesterday at the other pub. Geez! Fries and beer for lunch was a good holdover for us since we knew that tonight we were in for a free dinner with the group.

Thank goodness that is all we did, because the free dinner was incredible. But more on that later.

02 Kilkenny and Kilkenny Castle (12 of 35) After our walk through the Main Street of Kilkenny, we asked our waiter how we could find the pub at Kyteler’s Inn. Neither Mo nor I could remember the name, except it was the inn owned by the woman accused of being a witch with a black cat on the sign in front.

Dame Alice Kyteler’s house was built in 1224. She had four husbands, all of whom died under suspicious circumstances, and eventually she was charged with witchcraft in 1323. She was one of the first witches of that time to be sentenced to burning, but she never actually burned. Instead, thanks to the head cover that was used on sentenced people before burning, she actually sent her handmaiden in her place and avoided the stake.

02 Kilkenny and Kilkenny Castle (19 of 35) The pub includes the original building and stonework, with some other areas in the upstairs that have been redone to look original, and features live music from traditional Irish to blues. We sat at the bar, where I drank only a half pint this time of the heady brew. I think maybe this beer is a bit stronger than I am used to because I felt as giddy as if I had been drinking champagne.

02 Kilkenny and Kilkenny Castle (3 of 35) We made it back to Kilkenny Castle in time for the 3pm entry with Isabella and our group. What can I say…it was a castle. I hate to sound provincial, but sometimes a castle is a castle is a castle. Not always, but this one was imposing and wonderful in many ways, but still a big, gray, cold thing made of stone that made me glad I didn’t ever have to live in one.

02 Kilkenny and Kilkenny Castle (22 of 35) It was donated by the Butler family (very wealthy) to the town of Kilkenny for just 50 pounds. I took a few photos before I noticed the no photos signs, and then I discovered that kind of cool idea of turning off the sound of the clicking shutter, hiding the red light of the “on” button, and taking a few surreptitious photos from waist level with no one the wiser. Just couldn’t resist.

When the castle was donated by the family, they auctioned off the furnishings and paintings, but for the last few decades many of the original paintings from the castle have been found and repurchased, and are now hanging in the impressive “Long Room”. Most of the furnishings have been recreated from documentation of what was once there and looks very authentic. One piece that was original was a huge marble table that was just too incredibly heavy to move. No one said how much it weighed. I know these tours are full of fascinating information, but this one was simply “OK”. According to the Lonely Planet, Kilkenny Castle is one of Ireland’s most visited heritage sites, possibly because it is so close to Dublin and the town of Kilkenny is definitely charming. The castles Melody and I saw in Budapest and Prague were much more interesting to me however. Sorry Ireland, you know I love you.

What is wrong with this picture!

It was five pm when we all returned to the bus for the last hour of the day driving to Waterford. I think everyone was pretty worn out, I know I was. Waterford is a port city, and our hotel, the Granville, faces the riverfront. I had seen it on the internet and hoped it was as lovely as it looked. At first, it seemed a bit tired, but as we found our room and opened the door, I was thrilled to find a luxurious, spacious room, with lovely beds, period furniture, a huge desk, instant free wifi, a big deep bathtub, a room safe, tiny biscuits on the coffee tray, and even heated towel racks. Ahhhh….we both have room to walk around even when the suitcases are open.

With just an hour to get ready for supper, our suitcases were delivered within minutes of our arrival so I managed to get off the tired clothes I had worn for a couple of days and put on something fresh. It is quite chilly here in Ireland, but not all the time. Periods of chill seem to be interspersed with too much warmth, and I am constantly putting things on and off to try to deal with it. Tonight I expected a warm dining room, and a light blouse with a scarf and low shoes was the perfect choice.

We entered the lovely dining room, set with white linen, lots of cutlery and glassware and a wonderful menu. I forgot to mention that when our bus arrived at the hotel, the hotel manager came out to the bus and greeted us before we disembarked with a welcome and a description of the locally sourced and prepared food we were about to enjoy.

There were several choices for dinner in the beautiful Bianconi dining room, and I am sad to say that I didn’t even bother to take my camera down for the meal. We sat with Kathy and Mary Beth, the best friends I mentioned from our first day, and Debbie and Kay, two additional women who have somewhat bonded. It was a lively meal with great conversation. Turns out that Mary Beth and I were born in the same maternity hospital in Alta Dena, just three years apart, and that we had many things in common, silly things that we laughed about a lot.

Restaurant-granville-hotel-waterford-1280x754 Ahhh dinner! My starter course was a salmon and prawn salad with some fresh greens, the entree was pork roast from Bobby Flynn’s local farm, done to perfection and served with a fabulous, tasty, but very light gravy and a very simple apple sauce that was smooth and silky. Fresh carrots and green beans from local farms made the plate lovely to look at and again the potatoes were Irish heaven. Not only did they hand serve perfect little scoops of mashed potatoes, but we had small roasted potato orbs that were unbelievably good. The service was impeccable, with the hot plates served to us first, and the entrees dished out on our plates individually. Lovely. The Cabernet was also complimentary, and quite tasty, and dessert for me was an apple berry crumble with warm custard. We were asked to create a cavity in our crumble for the waiter to add the warm sauce, again individually. I don’t think I have ever had a complimentary meal with a tour that was this perfect.

Whew. I managed to get it all out, and will have to read this back to Mo to see what I missed. At almost 10PM and with another early and long day awaiting for tomorrow, I am done!

Photos for this amazing day have been uploaded to SmugMug. You can see the here.

Coming Next: Waterford, the famous Waterford Crystal Factory, and the Magnificent Rock of Cashel.