Ireland

A Wee Story of Ireland.
If traveling were any harder, nobody would ever do it. Inevitably on the flight to wherever I'm going, I vow never to travel again. It's frustrating. It's exhausting. It's filthy. And miraculous!

Planes, Trains and Automobiles.
Well, to be honest – no trains at all.

But the plane...was delayed due to weather in New York. No problem, Delta assured us. All the outgoing flights would be delayed, too. Our connection would be fine.

A long onboarding, a flight we were promised would pick up time and didn't and waiting to get to the ramp at the terminal – and suddenly things aren't looking too good. A last stop on the tram ride delayed by a parked truck and things are looking worse.

Last call. Doors are closing.

Trying to get seats together sends George and the airline attendant over the edge. The computer terminal goes down and our tickets won't print.

We're on vacation. Are we having fun yet?

And the automobile. I swear George was trying to destroy it piece by piece. Her mission – partly successful. A Puegot. What the hell kind of car is that? One with diesel and no acceleration power.

Driving on the opposite side of the car on the opposite side of some very scary roads is already challenging. Would be nice to have some gas power to get out of the way of oncoming vehicles in the wrong lane.

Instead, George kept the car to the left. A wee too far to the left in some cases as the mirror sacrificed itself more than once to the mercy of the limestone wall. I must admit, I closed my eyes going through the villages in fear that we'd start taking off all the mirrors on parked cars as we went through town.

It's not easy driving there and George did a great job. I decided early on I'd rather not try it myself.

Halfways through the trip, we couldn't get the key turned in the ignition. Called the help center and found it was an issue with the steering wheel. Stupid car.

The scariest part was driving into Dublin to the Hertz center somewhere on the inner circle of town. Longest miles we've ever been on. Got there in one piece and our mantra "We've got full coverage" was sung for the final time.

First Impressions.
As the airport fades behind me in the distance, so too fades my discontent with the process of getting anywhere. Ireland is as beautiful as all the travel sites and legends promise. Fifty shades of green as we later determined. Not unexpectedly, it's drizzling – a "soft day." But it's not foggy and the Cliffs of Moher are gorgeous. George heard from fellow travelers at work that

they were unable to even see them a few days earlier due to the fog and mist.

Along with the rain and the unending vision of green, we got our first taste of the ever-present brown bread. It was good on day one. Ask me again on day twelve.

We were eager to cram everything in right away so also tried fish and chips in a pub at Dingle that evening just a few short steps from our B&B. Dingle is famous for its trad music. We were lucky enough to hear them play a couple of songs. It appeared to be several middle-aged men who could strum or pluck along with ease. And the next generation of players joining in. Super fun to watch as some of the men were so relaxed as to appear lulling themselves into a trance. Hard to do with such lively songs.

Before we left Dingle, we "enjoyed" our first Irish breakfast. Oh well – we didn't pick Ireland for the food, now did we? More brown bread, white (liver) and red (blood) sausage, grilled tomato and an egg. We asked several times over the course of the next two weeks if locals REALLY had that themselves. Surely it was just a joke on gullible travelers. Nobody would choose to eat it! But apparently they do. And like it.

We asked Bridget at the B&B "why so many yellow houses?" She thought it was because they have so many dreary days and it helps to brighten things up.

George gets into another fight with the car over the windshield wipers. Although the car battles back bravely, George eventually gains control. Round 1 to George.

"Wildlife."
There isn't any. But there sure are a lot of sheep. And cows. Some of my favorite views were of sheep on the green, green, grassy hills with rock walls crisscrossing the land and a view of the sea right behind the pasture. Those are some lucky sheep to be living in such peaceful, pastoral settings.

Occasionally, there's a lone donkey in the field. Soaking wet and braying. Or peaking over the top of a fence as you drive by.

We had a chance to get up close and personal with some Harris hawks and some horses along the way. Nothing I like better than some birds, George and I took Sinead and Juan for a walk in the trees with our guide, James. Sinead was a hefty sorta girl with a mind of her own. Juan was somewhat smaller

but was trying to rapidly catch up. He'd come flying in out of nowhere to catch food from our mitts right underneath Sinead's beak. It was cool to watch them come flying in so low to the ground, gracefully following the curves in the trail or darting around trees. And when Sinead got tired, she just lay down in a patch of sun to catch some rays. I've never seen that before.

The horse ride was fun, too – through the Burren of Ireland. Lots of crisscrossing limestone walls out here where the sufferers of the Potato Famine were put to work. Tirelessly piling rocks for no reason other than to "earn" enough food to live.

I love horses but would not say I'm an exceptionally good rider. When Pearl had us speed up to a trot, I feared my ass would jiggle too far to one side or the other and the rest of my body would follow. But no, I was able to stay seated on a 2,000 pound moving animal. Staying seated on a stable hammock, however, is a different story.

"Keep the car more to the right," I say. "More to the right. More...nevermind." The passenger mirror takes a beating and perhaps a slice of paint off the side. But round 2, the car wins.

Day Tours.
The next two days we decide to sit back and enjoy the view while others drive us. Both the Ring of Kerry and Dingle Peninsula are exceptionally beautiful. Dingle was much more visible, though, as fog and rain interfered on Kerry.

Interestingly, our driver on Kerry and later around the Northern Coast were both retired policemen. The Dingle driver had his own bike tour company and was helping someone else out. He was a native of Dingle, though, and was very informative.

There are so many beautiful spots along the way – more sheep and cows, cliffs and sea, and green, green, green. There are old ruins, Celtic crosses, ancient stones and crumbling castles everywhere. The land of 10,000 castles.

One of our stops around Kerry was for lunch. Our driver raved about the lemon meringue pie – which was good. But the highlight was the seafood stew. Dear God – I'd never been a fan of fish in soups or stews before but sign me up! I could eat that every day. They do. With a couple of pieces of brown bread. :)

Before leaving, George ran to the bathroom leaving her bag and money on the table. "Can I trust you to watch my stuff? Are you sure?" Well, of COURSE! What a stupid question. I'm not likely to just walk away and leave your bags with all your money and passport in it! Insulting!

So, I went up to pay the bill while the driver went out to the car. And then I just walked out the door.

George wasn't too happy with me. Agreed – she can't trust me. Worse news – she couldn't even trust our police sergeant driver. Thankfully, you can trust the Irish.

We also stopped in Kenmare to visit the lace museum which was closed for lunch. What a cute town – would have been fun to stay there. And although there were good shops almost everywhere, there seemed to be an abundance in Kenmare.

On the Dingle tour, we made a stop at the Blasket Center to learn about Blasket Island – a small Irish community on a remote island. They were self-sustaining – living off the land and rarely venturing inland. At night, we learned, they all gathered together after dinner and chatted and gossiped for hours. About WHAT? Which cow pooped the most that day?

How far the waves came up on the rocks? I get bored in my Apple-filled world at times. Can't imagine how I would have survived.

"Keep the car more...nevermind." Round 3 to the car.

Snackables.
The first day I tried porridge, it was scrumptious! Sugary sweet and creamy. Perhaps it was the accompanying Tab for I couldn't create a repeat performance.

Banoffee pie is also popular here. As are stuffing sandwiches. Try figuring that out.

We also tried boxty – a potatoey tortilla thing with any kind of filling.

BTW – bread is not so good anymore. Served with every meal – it has lost its luster.

Castles and Such.
Castles and Ireland fit together so well. The land looks like it must have so long ago when the mighty walls were built. You can picture people riding horses over the rugged landscape back to their fortresses on the rugged sea cliffs.

We wasted time on the most dreadfully boring lake cruise of all time in Killarney and sacrificed a chance to se Muckross House. We were able to walk around outside on the lavish grounds but didn't get inside. The jaunty car ride out was fun, but those drivers need to chill on their sales pitches. I wanted an "I Rode" button like we get at elections so they would stop selling to me. THAT I would have bought from them.

Blarney Castle should be famous for its beautiful gardens, not for the stupid stone. You could spend hours there wandering through the many enchanting spots. I'm quite sure that fairies actually lived here once, and perhaps still do.

There were wishing steps, a witches oven, a fairy pond and warning signs for leprechauns. Also a poison garden should you need to kill anyone.

Rock of Cashel is a monastery but a U.S. citizen like myself probably couldn't tell the difference. It had some fascinating lines, light and shadow. Made for some great photos. The Celtic crosses in the cemetery and the view of another monastery through the window ledges were two of my favorites.

Fuck the brown bread – Asian for dinner at the hotel! And a very relaxing reflexology (foot massage) at the spa.

The car and George did not fight today. The only interesting travel story was centered on my uncanny math skills. The signs would read Kilkenny 8 mi./16 km.

"George," I said, "Are kilometers twice as long as miles?"

George: "No. They're half as long."

Silence...

George: "Did you hear me?"

Me: "Yes, but my question was, are kilometers TWICE as long as miles?"

George: "And my answer is, NO. Half as long."

Silence...

George: "Wait for it."*

A Little Bit of This. A Little Bit of That.
After a long day of driving, I had a reflexology appointment at the Kilkenny hotel. So relaxing that I fell asleep. I just wanted to make sure I remember that, apparently, as I just wrote about it.

This was an interesting hotel – a ways out of the city center. They had walking trails which were like walking around the perimeter of the fields back home. Not very scenic or fun. I also learned some new meanings to some very familiar words

Leisure Center: This is a gym. I don't know that I've ever experienced any type of leisure at my gym. I must be doing something wrong.

Creche: Now this is a child's play center. Sounds far from holy, and no resting place either.

Reflexology: That's a food massage – in case you forgot.

"Fluffy" Pancakes: Flat as paper, but don't taste as good as paper would.

"Proper" Victorian Sponge: Cake that tastes like glue.

"Light Snack": Deep fried camembert cheese.

There were several jobs that I never want to have in Ireland. First and foremost – the person who holds all the idiots bending over backwards to kiss the Blarney Stone. Looking up people's asses all day without the pay of a GI doctor.

I don't want to be the person at the rope bridge who sends people back and forth across the tiny stretch of bridge 8,000 times a day.

And I don't want to be the person at the Titanic Museum who welcomes Every. Single. Person. with the same spiel on how to tour the museum.

A Short Stay in Kilkenny.
The castle was the showstopper. This is the only castle we actually toured – with furnishings and the lot. The grounds were also beautiful with a rose garden in the back.

We went on a bike ride with Jason and

*Oooh. I get it!!

learned about the city, the history and a whole lot about hurling. They're like Vikings fans – only on a winning team.

I would not say I'm sporty. I couldn't ride the bike uphill – so much for my training at the leisure center. I was able to ride it into a car pretty good, though. It was parked so was an easy target.

All of Ireland had fun shopping, but the Kilkenny Design Center was the BEST! Picked up tons of souvenirs and gifts for friends. Got an orange floral teacup here which I love!

Here is where I met and fell in love with chocolate cereal with raspberries. With good intentions to share with K-Bear, I brought one back home. I never got it to her. But she just returns her presents to me anyway, so I feel no guilt.

Tried some Irish stew here, too. It was good...needed some chow mein noodles with it. Tasted very much like the old fashioned gloopy chow mein sauce.

John Denver is alive and well in Ireland. We heard his songs everywhere. They're getting Rocky Mountain High all over hell here. People performing his greatest hits on every street corner. Very strange.

Before We Head North.
A few words about bathrooms and tubs.

Throwing your Kindle in the bathtub full of water will cause it to cease working. Sadly, it is not labeled with this warning.

It's an old Kindle so I wasn't panicking but I did try CPR. I thought I should just carry on and pretend it never happened so I started pressing all the buttons to make sure it kept working. Turns out per Lindsey that was the worst thing I could have done. Shorts out the electricity. She, and others, said I should have dried it out on a bed of rice. Yes – I was in the land of potatoes. All I would have needed was a good ricer and a whole lot of time for it to dry out.

In one of the bathrooms, every time I got up from the toilet, I would bang my shoulder on the bottom of the pedestal seat. Ouch.

And then there was the bathroom where I would reach down to pull up my pants and my ass would set off the hand dryer. Why is it I can never get those dryers to activate? Is the trick to use my rear end?

There are no more tubs for the rest of the trip. But now I can just take my Kindle in the shower. Nothing to lose.

Northern Ireland.
I'm somewhat embarrassed that I didn't realize Northern Ireland was a separate country until shortly before setting out on vacation. But I think the Irish are confused as well. As part of the UK, they have a different currency and a different flag. But if you buy a book about Ireland, it includes the north too.

George was dying to go to Northern Ireland. She said at least a hundred times that she REALLY wanted to see the Giant's Causeway. She REALLY wanted to see it. REALLY she did! Calm yourself, George, the people in Ireland haven't even seen it. Nobody that we talked to on the entire trip had ever crossed the border. I'm sure it has a lot to do with the troubled history – but they're missing out!

For one thing – they may never get to see cattle crossing the highway on an overhead pass. God – I wish I'd had a picture of that. Sky cows.

And they could listen to "Breathy Elevator Woman" saying "thhhhhhirrrd floooorrr" at the most bombed hotel in Belfast, if not the world. I, too, was ready to bomb the hotel and try to kill Elevator Voice. What? The bombings had nothing to do with that annoying bitch?

It might be worth it for them to go north for no other reason than...Praise the Lord...they have paprika Pringles!!!

And "proper" chocolate cheesecake. And Cadbury buttons.

And a Cath Kidston store.

And English scones with strawberries and cream! (I LOVE the UK!)

And, hold on to your hats – KALE!!! In fact, an honest to God superfoods salad loaded with greens. It really puzzles me which is scarier – the fact that all of Ireland doesn't eat vegetables, or that I was so happy to find some in Northern Ireland. Me mum has had much to shake her head about in recent years. Her baby girl conquered breast cancer – no big deal. Her baby girl goes to a leisure center and craves kale – super big deal.

They served brown bread with that salad. Fucking brown bread.

Belfast.
I could write a whole book about Belfast. What an eye opening experience. I've never been anywhere like it. Of course, I have memories of the bombings and the "troubles" between the Catholics and Protestants, but I had no idea of the current state.

First of all, we heard on both our Black Taxi tour and from John – the tour driver to the shore – that it was not a religious battle but one of equality. Because England had taken over Ireland, they were given priority in jobs over the Irish. They also ran the government and the police force. Innately, the English were predominantly Protestant and the Irish were Catholic. Thus, it's gone down in history as a war of religion.

There's been no fighting for 20 years, but the walls are still up. Literally. There are three 40-foot walls with large gates that lock at 9 p.m. every night. One on the south side, one on the north and one in the middle.

The center of Belfast is "neutral" territory. It's where most of the shops, restaurants and tourist spots are located. Both the north and south are able to spend time here working or shopping during the day. But, like Cinderella, they need to be on their own side before nine.

There are separate schools and churches. Even separate taxis – allowed only on the side their license color allows unless they are a special tour taxi which can cross both boundaries. People are starting to mingle after work in bars and restaurants and finding out the other half isn't so bad after all. But if factions inter-marry, they need to head to the outer city where a few schools and sections are starting to form that welcome both sides.

WTF – it's 2015.

They love the U.S. and are grateful for Bill Clinton and his work helping to bring about peace to their country. There was a plaque in our hotel in his honor.

It sounds like things are slowly getting better but there was some holiday approaching and the Protestants were building pyres with Pope Francis on them. Plans to burn them for the celebrations. So stupid.

In spite of this backward mentality, Belfast is a very modern, progressive city. Their tourist center is unparalleled. Interactive self-help, beautiful displays and packed with info.

And the Titanic museum was first class. No end to the bells and whistles. Digital and interactive technology, stunning architecture. It's a marvel.

Belfast is also becoming known for their restaurants. We enjoyed a wonderful Indian dinner (large population of Indians here) and a yummy pineapple vodka drink.

Being in the UK, we also took time for tea. I would do almost anything to get more of that Turkish apple tea. But I couldn't find it anywhere there. And even the almighty Amazon doesn't have it Big bummer.

Antrim Coast.
We once again opted not to drive here ourselves but hired a driver so we could relax and enjoy. This whole area is absolutely gorgeous. And, as always, George was right to REALLY want to go here. REALLY!

The first stop was Dark Hedges. A short stretch of road where the trees arch over to meet in the middle. It's so picturesque. Words couldn't do it justice.

Dunluce Castle was equally spectacular. A castle built on the cliffs – part of it actually collapsed and crumbled into the sea.

The Giant's Causeway is unexplainable. Large hexagonal rocks at varying heights fromed by volcanic lava and the tide. It started to drizzle while we were there. Skipping around on slippery rocks was an adventure. Hope George loved it as much as she'd hoped.

Ballintoy Bay was one of my favorite stops on the whole trip. A very small harbor, but every single step brings an entirely different vision. Rocks, water, clouds and light. K-Bear would have been here for days taking photos.

Several of these stops have been filmed for The Game of Thrones. Maybe someday I'll catch up on that series and check it out.

Literally the only disappointment was the suspension bridge. Dear God – what a hellish walk. Only to get to a stupid, short bridge that was so not worth the time and effort. The scenery was gorgeous. The bridge was ridiculous. Go to Vancouver. They can show you how it's done!

Dublin and Out.
I always seem to end up in a big city. I guess because of the airport. As far as cities go, Dublin wasn't bad. There were enough interesting things to do for a day. It's the home of the mighty Guiness which wasn't of interest to me. But we went on a fascinating tour of the jail and learned a lot more about Irish history.

We finished our two weeks of tours with a night of fairy tales and folklore. I was surprised that there was so little tourist stuff on fairies or leprechauns. Supposedly, we Americans make much more of that then they do. Along with a merely adequate meal in a room so hot I felt like I was in Barcelona, we were regaled with stories about the little people. Legends of stones and lone fairy trees that farmers and builders to this day still won't touch. They say they don't believe in fairies but they're not willing to tempt fate.

We went to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College – an absolutely incredible artistic rendering of the first four books of the New Testament. It dates back to the 5th century. There's a wonderful exhibit detailing all the history behind it – who did it, where the colors came from (plants and minerals) and then you're able to see a few pages from the actual book. Wish they'd had more pages visible but you can see them all online.

Dublin had the best treats – pastries at the Queen of Tarts, Butlers' chocolates where they gave you free chocolates every time you ordered something. And macarons reminiscent of Paris. My faith has been restored.

The last notable thing about Dublin is that it is on steroids. Or acid. It's a very young, trendy town. A shopping center in every corner. And mobs of people. Seriously – the streets were like Times Square. So many people you moved as a mass when street lights changed. It was very surprising after the serene countryside.

Final Thoughts.
Well, in the end, George won the battle of George vs. the Puegot. And we got along very well the entire trip. We haven't taken a big trip like this alone for a very long time. We missed our travel buddies, but we did great together.

Any regrets? Well, I would trade the lake tour for a tour of Muckross. And although I might walk around the suspension bridge for the scenery, I wouldn't wait in line to cross it.

And would I have taken the $1,300 at the JFK airport to take a later flight? I'd like to think so but I bet I wouldn't have. I keep reminding myself there's no such thing as free money and there were probably strings attached.

The woman next to me was sure excited to get it, though. "Praise God. Jesus has blessed me. I'd sleep in the airport for $1,300". She praised God for ten minutes. I recall I earlier praised God for paprika Pringles. She was going to use her money to return on another church mission. I'm guessing she's better off having it than me.

But as I finish this up and pull out a travel book on Caribbean Islands, I think how I could be getting a free vacation. Or, I could still be sitting in JFK waiting for Delta to get me on "the next flight out."

Who's talking now, Georgie? Let's go!