~ April 10, 2003 - 4:54 p.m. ~
IRELAND part 2
The ferry dropped us off at Rossaveel at about 6:00 pm. We then began a marathon drive from there to Killarney, where we had hostel bookings for that night. On the drive down, we stopped in Limerick for dinner. We got Chinese takeout, which was a little weird, as most Asian food seems to be in the Isles. The maitre d� was sooo happy to see us, as Americans, and wanted to tell us his life story for some strange reason. I�ve sort of concluded, after having few experiences with English, Irish, and Scottish Chinese food, that the Islanders just don�t get it. Either that, or the Chinese proprietors of these places just don�t get the Island palate, and try so hard to appease tastebuds used to shepherd�s pie that they ruin the food. Indian restaurants tend to do better, mostly, I think, because they unabashedly declare: �Hey, we�ve got spices you people have never heard of on this soggy little rock! You eat our stuff, and you like it, cause we�re not going to ruin our tandoori just because you think using salt is exciting cookery!� Incidentally, the Indian restaurants are far more popular than the Chinese ones. Spice is good, and clearly sells better than bland rice with corn. (Corn? I don�t remember eating any corn!)Killarney was a really nice little town. The hostel was great, and we cooked our own meals there. We took that Wednesday to drive around the Ring of Kerry, which is the exceedingly pretty southern coast of Co. Kerry. On our first day around the Ring, Tim let me navigate. Biiiig mistake. See, I was really worried about driving because a) I don�t think I drive so well in the first place, b) I was having trouble remembering how NOT to turn into oncoming traffic from the left side of the road, and c) I was so nervous about hitting oncoming cars that I kept sort of veering into the ditch (which was often the edge of a cliff or something) on the left of the road. All of this made Tim extremely nervous, which made me extremely nervous, so I was happy to let him drive most of the time. Anyway, as it turns out, I can�t navigate worth shit either. Actually, I�m not so bad on �real� roads, but we were looking at a survey map of teeny-tiny little dirt roads, and frankly I wasn�t really sure what all the symbols meant on that particular kind of map. Tim eventually straightened me out and we found some nice dolmans and a very pretty ogham stone, all in sheep pastures. At one point, we got stuck in a tight spot in a deserted bard yard, and while we were trying to do a three point turn and get out of there, this heard of sheep nearly charged us! Tim was driving and I was directing him from outside the car, when all of a sudden he starts saying very low �Gina, get in the car. Get in the car right now.� And I�m all like �No wait, just turn the wheel a little to the left and back up slowly.� �Gina, look behind you, then get right in the car.� I looked and there was this big ram and a whole bunch of sheep heading toward me. I bolted for the car, slammed the door, and we took off, with the sheep in hot pursuit! Fortunately, they gave up after only a few meters.
The next day, we drove to Skibereen where my no-account family is from. Seriously, they were drunken fishermen who only left Ireland after the Famine killed off most of the neighbors and they had no one left to mooch off of. They probably didn�t live IN Skib, but that�s what�s supposedly listed on their last known address on their emigration papers. Actually, I don�t know this for sure. My Crazy Aunt (as opposed to Religious Aunt) told me that, and she�s completely cracked out when she�s not on her meds. Anyway, Skib is where I set Fiona, and there was a woman�s clothing store named Fiona�s. I snapped a picture from the moving car, but I don�t think it�s going to come out.
We also went down to Glandore to see where Tralong used to be. Tralong is a little stretch of beach now, but apparently there is an entire forest sunken under the bay. Lots of ships that get wrecked get caught up in the underwater forest, and the driftwood there is really spiffy. In fact, Tim and I went to an art show in Dublin almost two years ago that was made solely from Tralong driftwood. We gathered some for ourselves too. Glandore is also home to a stone circle and a Neolithic settlement, which we checked out. This was the only full-on stone circle we got to see on the trip (it was such a bitch to find the things, let alone drive and then hike to them), but I finally was able to run my grubby hands on the stones and stand the in middle and stuff. Many photos, obviously, and we had the place to ourselves until a Northern Irish couple drove up, curse them. I mean, they seemed like nice enough people, but I was really digging the solitude.
Anyway, we finished off Day Two of Kerry in Kinsale where we drank Kinsale. The brewery was closed, so we went to a pub called the Mad Monk instead for our beer fix. The food was quite good, although the town was a little stuffy. It�s quite a posh little place, and apparently a millionaire vacation spot. The pub was cheap though, thank God.
It took forever to get home, and we had to stop at a garda station to get directions back to Killarney. The roads were very dark and windy, and I finally gave up driving since Tim was so nervous about the way I was handling the wheel and told him to get us home.
We ditched Killarney the next morning for Cork. This was our only overcast day (by this point my face was rather sunburnt), and it drizzled the tiniest bit on the road to Cork City, but not much. We visited University College Cork and I met with one of my professor�s professors. She gave me a lot of helpful info about applying to the school, but she made me realize how much extra work it will take to go to grad school in Ireland, and how much I want to stay in New York for at least three years or so.
We spend the night in Cork and bought a Cuban cigar to split in a pub that night. The next morning, we snagged another Full Irish Breakfast and Tim bought me a very pretty bracelet to commemorate the trip. We drove to Cashel to see the Rock of Cashel , an old bishop�s seat and place of the Synod of Cashel (all obscure Irish historical things, don�t feel bad if you don�t know. It�s really boring unless you�re me . . .) and toured the place before we had a lunch of bread and cheese. By that afternoon, we were in A HREF="http://www.kilkenny.ie/hist/brewing3.html�> Kilkenny Town . Our hostel was right next to the brewery, so we could constantly smell hops. We walked up to Kilkenny Castle, but it was closed, so we bought some ice cream and strolled around the gardens until those closed too. We bought some whiskey, Cadbury Mint Crips and Bannoffi bars, and other Irish provisions unfindable in the U.S. to take back with us.
I learned that night that Kilkenny is my favorite Irish ale, and, when not actually IN the Guinness factory where the porter is unbeatable, Murphy�s is my favorite stout. We had a posh little farewell dinner that night (mmmmm lamb!), and we nearly went to a cl/pub called Matt the Miller�s (All SOA alumni should know why) just to say we did, but it was really packed, the wait was long, and I was already too drunk to stand, and we had to leave early the next morning.
We made it out of Kilkenny by 10 am, which left us two hours to drive to Shannon Airport on the far west coast. We stopped for more Cadbury bars on the way, and to vacuumed the disgusting amount of Walker Crisp crumbs out of the car. We got to the car return place about 30 minutes late, but since our flight wasn�t for another 3 hours, no one cared. After checking in, we planted ourselves in the airport pub and ate Irish smoked salmon and chips (French fries) and I drank myself silly. With 40 minutes until they allowed us to board, we hit the duty free shop and bought more Cadburys (I know, I know) and some potcheen for some special New Yorkers we know, and Tim got his dad some goodies, as well as a penny whistle for himself. With that, I drunkenly boarded the plane with Tim in tow, and watched Die Another Day as we crossed the Atlantic and sobered up.
So all in all, not bad. A great trip, really. We hit seven counties and many towns, and although I didn�t get to see Clomacnoise, that just means I�ll have to go back again one day. Since I have been in contact with foreign livestock, no one can pester me about giving blood for the next six months (which is nice because I have a vein condition that doesn�t permit me to give blood anyway, but for some reason people just won�t accept that and leave me alone. Really, I should just say that I regularly engage in sodomy with foreign livestock and then they�d REALLY leave me alone, the fuckers. If they believe that, then I see no reason to empty my veins for them. OK rant. Sorry.).
And for those of you who don�t approve of drinking or drunkenness, a big old Irish �Feck You� to you. Anyone who knows me knows that this is not my normal behavior, but I figured hey, I�m in Ireland, and this is my last Spring Break, so I might as well go wild. And I�m so glad I did!
