Day 5: Galway to Ballynahinch Castle

Amber and I awoke very excited--we were joining our tour today! We were also nervous about meeting the new people on tour. That initial not knowing our tour mates (were they fun? Obnoxious? High maintenance?) provoked some anxiety in both of us. (Amber was also nervous that the tour wasn't really gonna show up, or that they'd forget us.)

But the tour began in Dublin, so we had the morning to ourselves in Galway. We walked along the bay in the rain, stopping every few feet to admire the colorful doors and lovely flowers. We had two destinations in mind: first, the Spanish Arch, then secondly, breakfast!

We found the Spanish Arch, and to our delight, it was occupied!

I'm telling you, those musicians are everywhere, which makes me happy. 

The streets and promenade surrounding the arch were empty, empty, empty. The only ones out were us, the rain, and a roaring river full of swans. 

Nearby Shop Street would be busy and full of visitors soon enough, so we enjoyed the solitude. But as we walked along the main street, we realized that sleepy tourists meant none of the restaurants were open just yet.  

Eventually, we stumbled on a second-story cafe that was as warm and cozy as it was adorable. The food was really good, and of course, the toast was delicious! (I had no idea Irish bread was so amazing!) Amber ordered the most wonderful chai tea. 

During breakfast, our tour guide called, which excited us immensely. (We weren't forgotten!) Amber and I immediately switched roles--she stopped worrying after the call, but I became anxious (did I hear correctly about the pick up place and time correctly? Did she say half-past three of half of three? And who the heck says half of anything??) Oh well, at least we take turns with worrying.

We finished up our late breakfast, and hit the shops. I needed postcards and stamps, but after a while, got tired of fighting the crowds. Amber went in search of a warm Aran Island sweater and I pulled up a chair at the nearest pub to write a letter home to Mark and watch all the people go by. 

There were new musicians out today, not nearly as good as yesterday's. I watched one hokey kid in a business suit underwhelm the passersby. He had no instrument or musical skill, just a microphone, amp, and laptop, which he used to get the lyrics. (Even with the words scrolling by, he kept messing up the lyrics!) 

That's right, he was performing karaoke on the street corner! He also threw some bad dance moves and dramatic facial expressions in there, for a result that was far more hilarious than he intended. 

Amber returned, and we bid adieu to Shop Street. We wandered over to the cemetery next to our hotel. I know that sounds weird, but it was beautiful. Our local cemeteries are all new, with flat headstones in the grass. Irish graveyards are much older, and far more decorative, with elaborate giant Celtic crosses marking the burial plots.

The crosses were grand, eloquent, surrounded by roses. The graves were meticulously cared for, and the headstones thoughtfully described the lives of the people buried there. It was a very peaceful place, although I was glad for the high wall that prevented us from seeing all of it as we walked home the evening before (graveyards at night scare the heck outta me!).

Amber and I returned to the hotel for our bags, and to wait for Vagabond. We noticed a subtle but distinctive shift in the hotel clientele; the famous Galway horse races began the next day, and the fans were arriving. Gone were the groups of boisterous young hens and stags, slowly being replaced by a far older and more genteel crowd. The stags and hens arrived by train, but the race fans pulled up in fancy cars, toting expensive luggage. It was interesting to watch.

Then we saw another car pull up--a black Land Rover pulling a small trailer. Our ride was here! 

Amber and I squealed, grabbed our bags, and ran outside to meet our tour guide, Bébhinn (pronounced Bay-ven). She tossed our bags in the trailer, pulled down the Land Rover's flimsy steps, and motioned at us to climb in. I did, staring straight into a sea of faces.

"Hi, I'm Heather!" I announced, quickly grabbing a seat. There were so many faces, I didn't really get a good look st anybody.

"Well, then, off we go!" Bébhinn said. She consulted at her map, adjusted her microphone headset, and officially welcomed us aboard. 

Bébhinn asked where we were from, and introduced the rest of the gang by their newly-acquired nicknames. There was King Brian (the first king of Ireland was Brian Boru) and his wife, Margie Pargie Puddin' n Pie, and their sons Nate the Great and Big Ben (who was only 15, but lived up to his name at 6' 5"!). Brian's sister Linda (Lin Shinn) was also aboard. Twenty-two-year-old Ashley was there with her mom, Mother Mary, and Uncle George, who surprised the new college graduate with the trip. Rounding out the group was Jan, from Central California, who'd been traveling Europe for two months. Her husband was in Scotland for the week, golfing with buddies, so Jan came to Ireland to tour with our Vagabond group.

The Land Rover (the Vagatron) rolled out of Galway, and onto the smaller, winding back roads of the Connemara region. Now we were truly heading out to the Irish countryside, and was I ever excited! Goodbye big cities, and hello to the rolling green hills of Ireland!

We drove about an hour, and I stared out the window the whole time. The country was gorgeous, lush, green, and seemed to go on forever. Bébhinn pointed out all sorts of interesting things, and taught us a little rhyme about magpies, explaining how superstitious Irish people are (seeing one magpie is bad luck, so you have to wave at it so it isn't alone). She told us about fairies, how mischievous they are, and vengeful, so you never want to disrespect or anger one.

Finally, we turned left onto an even smaller country road. Bébhinn pulled over so we could stretch our legs.

We also got a good look at Killary Harbour, Ireland's only fjord.

Then it was back in the Vagatron and on to our next site, Kylemore Abbey, which, it turns out was NOT the castle we were staying in that night (as I erroneously thought!). 

It was a beautiful place though, built by a wealthy politician for his wife. It was later owned by Benedictine nuns, and became a boarding school. 

Although we thought we were getting better at it, Amber and I still struggled with the selfie. Some nice tourists took pity on us, and snapped this beautiful shot.

And when I posted it on Facebook, my friend Matthew doctored it up, and added the caption, "Guess who else was on holiday? Nessie!" I laughed so hard, and couldn't stop giggling about it. This pretend picture is one of my very favorites from Ireland! 

This was a short stop, mostly just for taking photos, but we took a quick walk around the grounds, which were beautiful.

And then it was on to the stop I was most excited about--the castle! That's right, that's the way we roll, sleeping in castles.

We drove through more windy roads to the castle. I was amazed and a little frightened by the roads, which were very narrow and lined on either side by shrubbery and stone walls. Bébhinn said when measured and built hundreds of years ago, the roads were wide enough for the only mode of transportation--donkey carts. They'd certainly never been upgraded since cars were invented!

The roads twisted and turned, and you couldn't see the other cars coming toward you (usually at high speeds) until they screeched to a stop right in front of you. The Irish cars are all tiny, so they usually gave way to our giant Land Rover. 

The other cool thing we saw on the roads were sheep! That's right, they were all over the place--in the road, alongside the road, in the hills, basically wherever they wanted. Bébhinn said they sleep on the road at night, because it's warm (the asphalt holds the heat from the sun). She said you've gotta be careful driving at night, because there are no lights anywhere and you don't want to hit a flock of sleeping sheep.

Pretty soon, we turned down a road that drove along a small lake. It was gorgeous, and lead into a thick forest of trees. Suddenly, the forest opened up and we saw it--Ballynahinch Castle! (Bally-na-hinch)

See that big triple-sized window on the third floor, above the Vagatron and trailer? That was our room!! Amber and I had a big room with gorgeous window seat in front of the window overlooking the beautiful grounds. 

The receptionist welcomed us all in, and a sweet little old bellman came to take our bags. Our room was on the third floor, and we saw quickly enough there was no elevator. Amber and I winced when he grabbed both our bags at the same time, grunted, and ran up all the stairs with them. (Please don't have a heart attack, I begged silently as we followed behind him at half his pace, feeling guilty.)

But once inside Room 12, all the guilt melted away. We gasped at the beauty out our picture window. The room was great, full of luxurious amenities, like heated mirrors and towel racks. It was only lacking one thing, but unfortunately, it was the thing Amber had looked forward to the most--a bath tub. She'd seen photos of the spa tubs on the web site. She tried (and failed) to hide her disappointment, but I don't blame her for being disappointed.

There were two dinner options that night--the fancy restaurant or the castle pub. We all opted for the pub, although it was the fanciest pub I'd ever been in! 

The castle was on a river and famous for its fishing and brown trout. The fishing theme ran through the castle interior, with stands to rest the gear, rain gear, boots, and giant fishing poles (some were two stories tall!). The pub had many rooms, all with wood-paneled walls, some with roaring fireplaces. It was warm, cozy and elaborately but tastefully decorated (and the food was amazing, too--not your usual "pub grub," as it turns out, but fresh seafood platters, enormous steaks, and posh desserts like buttery bread pudding).

The hostess showed us to our table, and our group sat down, engaging in small talk, trying to remember each other's names again. I sat next to Margie, who was lovely. She told me all about her family, the Shinners, and how they were from Chicago (yay, I love Chicagoans!).

Our waitress appeared to take drink orders. I ordered a glass of wine, and when she asked which room to charge it to, I said, "Room 15." Amber looked at me quizzically, then I said, "Just kidding, I'm really in Room 12." Everybody laughed, and that was it--the tension was gone and we were all friends!

Our table only got louder as the night went on. Turns out George, sitting across from me, is hilarious, and even louder than I am! (I swear, ask Amber!) Linda, sitting next to George, was also hilarious, as was King Brian. I spent most of the meal laughing my head off. At one point, we apologized to the waitress, who just smiled and said, "No, I love it, you're brilliant!" I think she was just being polite (we WERE kinda rowdy), but she was right--we were brilliant. I realized we were gonna have a lot of fun with this group.

Full and happy, we left the pub to explore the castle grounds. It was late, and dark, so Amber and I just ambled from room to room, finding the library, a game room, and a sitting room. We found a way outside, which freaked me out a bit, since Amber told me at dinner there were bats out there. (I did not see the note in the room telling us to keep close the windows at night while the lights were on, or the bats would fly in and get stuck. Ack!!!)

We could see the bats, tiny, swooping down into the clouds of mosquitoes buzzing around the lights along the river. It was quiet, absolutely silent, and peaceful (even with the bats!).    

After a short stop in the drawing room to relax, we returned to our rooms. I thought Amber and I had a long day, but the trip was even longer for our new friends--it took them three hours to drive from Dublin to Galway! (Plus the 90 minutes+ we were in the Vagatron from Galway to Ballynahinch.) And most had arrived the previous day, so jet-lag was kicking everyone's booty (Margie told us how all the Shinners fell asleep during the Riverdance show the night before).

A surprise awaited us in the room--fresh-baked cookies! Three of them, stacked next to the cute little water bottles. 

We learned what a little prankster Ashley was the next morning, when we heard Mary freaking out about the cookies.

"I ate one, and when I came out of the bathroom, there was only half a cookie left!" she reported. "Ashley said the fairies ate the other half!" 

Bébhinn's stories about the fairies left quite an impression on Mary, and honestly, quiet, desolate Ballynahinch did feel like there could be fairies lurking nearby. Mary was clearly unnerved by the fairies sneaking into her room and eating the cookies.

Mary rushed off, and Amber looked directly at Ashley. 

"Did you eat the cookie?" Amber asked, and a sly smile appeared across Ashley's face.

"Of course I ate the cookie," Ashley answered. 

Seems like the fairies weren't the only mischievous creatures we'd have to worry about on this trip!

Day 4: Galway Girl(s)

Day 4 started early with a cross-country train ride. You know you're in a small country when the trip to the other side only takes two hours!

We left Dublin to head west to Galway for a quick overnight get-away. We'd heard great things about Galway, and even though Dublin was a blast, we were excited to get out of the big city and start seeing some countryside.

As the train rolled out of Dublin, the concrete buildings faded off, giving way to rolling green fields and sheep--lots of sheep! This was our first experience seeing the famous Irish sheep, and it was a little disconcerting because it looked like some hooligans had caught and graffiti-ed them. They were brightly painted, and though it didn't seem to bother them, it bothered us. (Seriously, who paints sheep??)

We found out later that's how the farmers "brand" the sheep. They pick a paint color (or colors) and location to mark the sheep and register that with the Irish government. That allows the farmers to identify their sheep when they run off into the hills and mix with all the other flocks. 

After a quick nap, we arrived in Galway. We could see immediately how different it was from Dublin--still busy, but on a much smaller scale. And we could see water! We never got close to a port in Dublin, we could only see it from the Guinness Storehouse. But here in Galway, we walked along the water's edge until we found our hotel.

The second interesting fact of the day is that we learned Galway is famous for "hen" and "stag" parties (aka bacherlorette/bachelor parties). I'm not sure why exactly, except that maybe it's the closest big city for some of the smaller towns, but it certainly lived up to its reputation. It was a Saturday night, and the hens were already about!

They filled the hotel lobby, all clutching champagne flutes and fancy suitcases. Registration took a while and the sheer number of hens completely flustered the poor receptionist. We finally got our room, but when we returned from dropping off our bags, ANOTHER hen party filled the lobby! We could only imagine how busy the restaurants and bars in town would be tonight!

Amber and I had no idea where to go, or even where the main part of town was, so we asked at the front desk. This is when we realized a really good reason why we are such compatible travel partners--Amber hates to ask people questions, which I have no problem doing. What I am bad at is listening to answers (curse you, ADHD!), but turns out, Amber is super good at that part! So between the two of us, we can make contact with any person, AND get directions/recommendations! 

So off we went, map in hand, courtesy of the hotel receptionist. We walked down a very empty, kind of industrial street, which confused me, because I'd heard what a busy, happening town Galway was. We passed lots of quaint buildings, though, and even more colorful doors and vibrant flower boxes. (The Irish flowers really thrive in all the rain and extended summer sunlight!)

We turned the corner onto Shop Street, and suddenly, we saw where all the people were.

Shop Street was insanely crowded, but it was also ADORABLE! It was a pedestrian street, closed off to cars, and looked like an old medieval town. Banners hung between the buildings on either side, and there were flowers everywhere. 

There were restaurants and brick buildings and brightly painted buildings and pubs, and souvenir shops and regular shops and sweater shops and street performers and musicians and...oh my God, it was overwhelming! We didn't know where to turn first, or what to look at, and we just wanted stop and to take it all in except that the throngs of tourists bustling by kept nudging us out of the way.

We found the restaurant the receptionist suggested, and gratefully slid inside. It was tiny, and filled to capacity, but it was also warm and the food looked fantastic. Amber ordered a beautiful salad, but I was intrigued by an appetizer.

"What is 'potted crab'?" I asked the waitress.

She looked at me like I'm an idiot and slowly answered, "It's crab. In a little pot." And she was right! (It was like a warm crab salad you spread on slabs of soda bread--it was DELICIOUS!)

After lunch, we slowly strolled the street, stopping every five seconds to take a photo or look at something new. The musicians all played exotic looking instruments, which fascinated us.

This guy was one of my favorites, mostly because I couldn't figure out exactly what he was doing. He was hilarious--he'd obviously gone through a lot of trouble to cover the pub in paper, and he even had a cardboard cut out of himself in the window! He looked like an ordinary busker until you looked closely at his "banjo"--also a cardboard cut out! 

He didn't sing or play, he just stood there saying, "Plink plonk." He even had sheet music to go along with it. Amber and I couldn't stop cracking up at him!

There were musicians on literally every corner. We stopped to watch them all, and I feared we'd never make it down the street, but then again, who cared? This was exactly why we came to Galway!

We also found this adorable busker--he was sooooo cute, we were pretty much glued to the street in front of him, just staring at him. And we weren't the only ones, either--the whole area was filled with girls staring just as intensely. 

He even stopped a full hen party in their tracks! They were hilarious, all dressed up in matching golf outfits. He dedicated Ed Sheeran's "Living Out Loud" to them, and they held their giant inflatable golf clubs aloft, swinging them back and forth in time. 

Amber decided we should support local artists, and bought us both a copy of his CD. She got a smile and a wink when she dropped the money into his guitar case, reaffirming that not only was he gorgeous, but charming as well. I think all the female hearts in our area sighed and melted simultaneously.

As if Galway wasn't busy enough on that sunny Saturday, there was even more shopping behind the main street--a farmer's market! They had the coolest stuff--crafts, and fresh veggies galore.

There were flowers, fresh cut and in pots.

And there was a fishmonger, selling all sorts of fresh seafood on giant mounds of ice.

This ugly guy caught my attention--I couldn't turn away from it. I've never seen a monk fish before, it looked like an alien from the sea. 

It was so disgusting, I vowed never to eat one, a vow I unknowingly broke the very next day when I ordered a tasty seafood platter. (Amber remembered the fish and my vow after I'd finished eating.)

We shopped a bit, passing harpists and a magician/trapeze artist as we strolled, finally coming to the end of the main street. It was bordered by a park filled with more performers (street dancers this time), and absolutely filled with people and more flowers. It was a great spot to people watch. 

All that walking (OK, not really that much) made us thirsty. We found a pub that promised trad music, and ordered a couple of beers. The place was packed, mostly with men at first, and then with the golfing hen party. (Curiously, there was a sign at the front door barring hen or stag parties in the pub.)

We sat next to a young guy who soon became our new best friend. Jason was a local--he loved this pub and was super friendly. He told us about Irish politics, and about growing up in the country. He spoke of his father working hard every day on the farm, and how Jason couldn't wait to get away from it. He was funny and endearing, with an easy smile and a quick laugh. Amber and I both fell in love with his charming ways. (Amber accurately pointed out later that all Irish men have that charm, whether they're 8 or 80, and it worked on us every time!)

We'd come in for the live music, but quickly opted for drinking a few beers with a fun local guy instead. After our frenetic sightseeing the past few days, it felt great (and a little bit naughty) to spend the evening drinking in a pub.

Eventually, though, our stomachs betrayed us. Jason sent us off to his favorite chipper for dinner, McDonagh's. I remembered seeing it earlier in the day, but couldn't remember where, exactly--we'd walked up and down the street a couple times. We got lost within two minutes of leaving the pub, and had to ask another local guy for directions.

"Which way to McDonagh's?" I called out to a group of men smoking cigarettes on the patio. They sighed, and silently pointed behind us, a bit dismissively. We couldn't figure it out--after all the friendly, helpful Irish people we'd met, this guy seemed irritated with us. Not angry, but definitely annoyed.

"That was weird," Amber said, and I agreed. But I realized why a couple blocks later.

"I don't think McDonagh's is this way..." I started to say, and then I remembered what was. 

"McDonald's is this way!" I told Amber, laughing. "No wonder he was glaring at us! He thought the stupid Americans wanted to eat at McDonald's, not McDonagh's!" 

And sure enough, there it was, the Golden Arches. We turned around and found McDonagh's in the other direction.

The restaurant, like all the other pubs and eateries in town, was packed. There were two sides--a take out side, and a sit down side. We each stood in a separate line, figuring fate would tell us which side to choose. The pricier sit-down side eventually won out because they served beer, and actually had seating.

The seating, however, was communal, and very close. The waitress led us to a table filled with four very quiet (German?) boys and we sat down inches away from them. The foreign boys quietly ate their dinner, completely avoiding eye contact. 

We ordered dinner--more fish! And more mushy peas, which sound gross, but are delicious and slightly weird all at the same time. We also ordered local beers, Galway Hookers, named after the boats famous to the Galway region. 

And yes, we snickered and giggled and took lots of photos with them, which did not help our case with the Very Quiet Foreign Boys.

By the time we were done, it was dark outside, which meant it was really late. We considered another pub with more music, but we were stuffed from dinner, and the "Just one beer" compromise doesn't work in Ireland because all the beers are giant and heavy. 

But no matter...like all our days so far, Galway proved an excellent host, and a fine city to see. A gentle rain fell on us as we walked home, our first Irish rain, which delighted us. (That wore off soon enough in the coming days!) 

Then it was back to our hotel for a good night's sleep, interrupted only occasionally by an enthusiastic stag party singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." Maybe the lion was the only one sleeping, but it didn't dampen our new found love for Ireland in the least.

Day 3: Dublin Ponies, Whiskey, Jail, and Fishing Villages

By Day 3, Amber and I were expert Dubliners. OK, maybe not, but it wasn't for lack of trying!

It was our last day in Dublin, and we were determined to see it all. We woke early, grabbed a bite to go, and hoofed it over to St. Stephen's Green, a big park in the middle of the city. The edge of the park was lined with taxis and horse carriages--we opted for the latter. We thought the horse walked us through the park, but the ride really traveled through the city instead.

 

Our driver, almost a stereotype of your typical older Irish guy, was great. He had a thick brogue, so I only understood about half of what he said, but the half I got was very interesting and funny. 

He pointed out the smallest pub in Ireland (holds 29 people) and the building where Bram Stoker lived. He showed us fancy hotels and hidden cemeteries, famous music halls, and even Bono's house. We cantered by the Irish Parliament House, and by the Prime Minister's house. (Eimear schooled us in Irish politics the night before, explaining that the President is really just a figure head, and the Prime Minister has all the power.) The driver, facing us, mumbled something I didn't understand. He mumbled it again, this time motioning to my camera. And then, more urgently, he muttered a third time, but this time I heard, "Prime Minister!"

"Right there!" the driver shouted. "He just walked past us!"

And so we turned, just in time to see two men in fancy suits pass by. The Prime Minister of Ireland, right in front of us! I snapped a few photos, and giggled, excited to be in the right place at the right time.

"Never seen him that close before," the driver told us. "And I drive past here all day long."

We sauntered on, the driver telling us Irish lore. He said in old times, harpists were the revolutionary leaders, so Queen Elizabeth 1 banned all harps and harpists. The Irish responded by making the harp their national symbol. 

As we passed down a Georgian street, we asked about the doors--each home had a different, brightly colored door. 

I just figured the Irish like bright colors, but nooooo, this one was about Queen Elizabeth, too. When she died, the English ordered everyone to paint their doors black in mourning for her. The Irish painted theirs every color BUT black. I was beginning to really appreciate the rebellious Irish nature.

We rode alongside a tiny canal, previously used to haul boatloads of Guinness. It was such a tiny, skinny little river (and river bank) that when the driver said horses pulled the boats in the shallow water, I stupidly asked, "Did they walk on the water?" 

I don't know why I asked that (maybe I meant next to the water??), except that it was early, and I was still drinking my morning coffee (think I was suffering a caffeine deficiency). But Amber and the driver immediately burst into laughter, and he cried, "Yes, the horses walked on water and pulled the boats!" 

Even a taxi driver at the red light beside us heard the conversation, and laughed through his open window.

"Did ya hear that?" our driver asked him. "She wanted to know if the horses WALKED ON WATER while they pulled the boats!" 

So yes, my dumb brain was just as confused in Ireland as it normally is here in the U.S.!

Our carriage ride ended shortly after that, and I was kinda glad, lest I ask any more dumb questions!

We parked back at St. Stephen's Green, and wandered around the park a bit. Statues decorated the park, and giant swans sailed elegantly across a tiny lake. Small children fed them, throwing the food directly at them, which the swans didn't seem to appreciate, but ate anyway.

The park was peaceful and serene, and like all the other places in Dublin, we could have spent all day there. If we had time. Which we didn't--it was on to the jail.

Our big green limo arrived, and we boarded. It was quite a contrast to the quiet park we'd just left--from the open deck on top of the bus, we could hear the city waking up. Traffic jammed the streets, and pedestrians filled the sidewalks--Dubliners on their way to work, tourists on their way to everywhere else. Construction also filled the streets, funneling the traffic into single lanes, slowing everyone down to a crawl.

Soon enough we arrived at the Kilmainham Gaol, but the earliest tour was a couple hours away, so we opted for lunch at a little cafe across the street. We sat at the front window, where we could see a little Jack Russell terrier running freely across the street. Apparently, Irish people don't believe in leashes, because this little guy owned the street, greeting every other dog or person that walked by him.

"He's the mayor of this street," Amber said, and she was right. I realized Ireland would be a great place to be a dog.

Visiting Kilmainham Gaol was a little bit sad and depressing. It housed (and executed) political prisoners, which made Amber a bit reluctant to take the tour. By the end of the tour, I fully agreed with her.

The guide took us through the chapel, and the old cells, which opened to the outside windows (or empty spaces where windows should have been). The cells were small, drafty, even in the summer, and I imagined unbearably cold during the winter. We learned that prisoners were all ages (yes, children, too) and both genders, and were not segregated. The population, mostly political prisoners and leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising, boomed during the great famine, when people committed crimes solely to get locked away, guaranteed a meal a day. Cells built for one person routinely held six or seven people, and during the famine, prisoners even slept in the dank passageways, exposed under open windows. 

The dark, old cells were eventually replaced with a large oval-shaped cell block, more open and with built-in skylights. This block had lots of natural light and a bigger common area. It looks more like a modern jail block, and was touted as far more humane. The light was better for the prisoner's morale and mental health.

We ended the tour in the yard, where a lonely little cross sat in the corner. I took a few photos of it, then stepped back, sadly, as the guide explained this marked the spot where James Connolly, a leader in the Easter Uprising, was executed. Injured during the riots and too weak to stand, the guards lashed him to a chair, where he still slumped over. The guards shot him anyway, then dragged him to the gate, to make it look like he'd tried to escape. People were outraged when the story got out, and it proved a turning point in the revolution.

Anyway, by the time it ended, Amber wasn't the only one feeling a bit off about the tour. I'm glad I went, because I learned a lot of Irish history, and even more about how tough and resilient the Irish people are. But like a lot of Irish history, it was sad how much the people suffered (especially during the Potato Famine, when Ireland actually had enough food to feed its people, but shipped it instead to England, resulting in over a million Irish people starving to death). :-(

After all that, we needed a little bit of levity. With no green bus in sight and the clock ticking down, we decided to cab it to our next destination, the Jameson Distillery.

Jameson was one of my favorite tourist sites, and not because of the whiskey. It was a total man hub! That's right, the man to woman ratio was approximately 10:1, and we loooooved it!

We wandered around the distillery until our tour began, staring at all the gorgeous men. Here's my attempt at capturing one of the cuties--I told Amber to stand still so I could take a photo of her. ;-)

They finally called our group into a theater where the tour started. Amber and I sat down near the middle, and a stag party filled in the seats to our left. I nudged Amber, and both of us grinned at all the cute guys. And then it got even better--the rest of the party filed in, and grabbed the remaining seats all around us. A movie about the distillery's history began, but all I remember is being completely surrounded by cute guys. Don't ask me any history about Jameson! (Or as the Irish call it, "JAM-ah-son.")

After the movie, we walked through the tour, which was basically many rooms set up like life-size dioramas. I was surprised that the process of making whiskey mirrored the process of making beer--roast the hops, add water and barley, ferment them--all the way until the distilling. I didn't realize the ingredients are the same.

By this time, my brain was on overload--I'd stuffed it with so much information over the past three days. I wasn't really paying attention until we entered the last room--the tasting room.

I love tasting rooms. I've spent many a fun time in wine tasting rooms, and some equally fun times in beer tasting rooms (most recently, Guinness!). I don't drink much (any) hard liquor, but Amber and I were up for tasting the three shots in front of us.

We took lots of photos and half-way listened as the guide explained the differences in our three shots (she called them "glasses"--tomato, tomahto). She explained how many times each was distilled (Jameson 3 times, the American whisky twice, and the third whiskey only once). She pointed out the differences in color, and aroma, and finally directed us to taste them.

Amber and I cheered each other, clinked our glasses together and sipped, then immediately grimaced and yelled, "Ack!" Because we weren't really expecting to toss back a glass of fire, which burned all the way down our throats.

"No!" Amber cried, quickly setting down her glass. "I'm not doing that any more!"

I admired her conviction, but figured what the heck, three small tastes probably wouldn't kill me. They didn't, but boy, my throat and chest were warm for a long time after!

We exited the tasting room, only to pour into--another tasting room! This one was way better though. You could select a beautiful low ball glass of Jameson neat, or a pint-sized cocktail of Jameson, ginger ale, and lime juice (they called it a whiskey cocktail, I called it "How Girls Drink Whiskey"). Amber and I were reluctant to drink it, but cheered "Slainte!" and took a sip. To our surprise, it was GOOD! Really good! The tour guide said every girl should have a signature cocktail, and Amber and I just found ours!

We left the distillery with a slight, happy buzz, in search of our big green bus. With none in sight but the sun brightly shining, we stretched our legs, and followed the road back to the hotel on foot. It was only about a mile, a nice walk through a part of the town we hadn't seen yet.

It was late afternoon by the time we returned, so we didn't waste time. We made a quick stop to the room for heavier jackets, then to the front desk for directions to a sleepy little fishing town called Howth. (Pronounced "Hoe-th," as Eimear kindly corrected me. Butchering Irish names became a specialty of mine during this trip!) 

The receptionist pointed us to the closest big street, then told us to walk 10 minutes down the road, until we saw the LUAS (metro) station. The guidebooks said it was a 40-60 minute bus ride to Howth, so we were surprised (and delighted!) that it was only a 30 minute train ride.

We found the station, and after the initial confusion of buying tickets (I blame it on exhaustion, sorry, Amber!) we found our train. It was packed, but emptied slowly with each stop. The coolest thing about it was the view. We'd been traveling through the big, bustling city, all concrete and moving people, all car horns and bumper-to-bumper traffic, and here, with each mile further, the city melted away. We left the graffiti-ed buildings, which gave way to open fields and then beaches. The beaches were gorgeous, as was the rest of the land, and we oohed and ahhed excitedly.

By the time we hit Howth, the last stop, there were only a few passengers left. We followed them off the train, and through the station. 

"Where do we go now?" I asked Amber, once we found the main road.

"Let's just look around," she answered, which seemed like a pretty good plan.

We didn't really have a plan, we just wanted to get out of the city for a bit, and had heard how cute Howth was. We also heard they had a great "chipper"--a fish and chips restaurant, and later we found out there was a castle and some great cliff walks. That would've been fun, but since we only had a couple hours left, we just explored locally.

Unlike Dublin, awake all night long, Howth seemed to have rolled up the carpets by the time we arrived (6:30). The hotel receptionist had warned us we might be arriving a bit late, and she was right, because most of the shops and restaurants were closed. That surprised me, being a Friday night in summer, but isn't unusual for smaller towns, I guess.

Amber and I explored the pier, stopping to take goofy pictures and peer into the windows. We were laughing because we liked taking photos of both of us, but hadn't quite mastered the selfie yet. We'd gotten a pretty good system down, where I would hold the camera and Amber pushed the button, but I had a hard time trying to frame us and the background correctly, in reverse. In Howth, the wind was whipping and it drizzled a bit on us, making an already difficult task even MORE difficult. (Also, I'm never in any of the photos, so I didn't realize until now how really awful my hair usually looks! My mom is--gasp!--right, turns out I SHOULD brush it more often. Which further slowed down the selfies!)

Howth was empty, empty, empty! Our only companions were the fishermen at the end of the pier, casting long, wobbly fishing poles into the ocean. Numerous signs warned we were in a casting zone, and to take care. That scared me a little, and we managed to take a very quick selfie there.

We wandered back down the pier to the chipper, Leo Burdock's, across the street. And suddenly, we realized where all the people of Howth were hiding--at the chipper's! 

The line was long, but the food well worth it. And that's something, because it was my third day in Ireland, and my third serving of fish and chips. (Not proud to say third of...many, many more. Oy, my cholesterol!!) 

We enjoyed our dinner, but enjoyed the cute little lady working there even more. She cheerfully brought me more ketchup, and Amber more vinegar, and talked her ear off. She was so kind and helpful, so friendly, a trait we found in most of the Irish people we talked to. The food and sights in Ireland were great, but the real treasure is the people. 

Full and happy, we crossed the street back to the adorable little train station. 

We boarded the train, hopeful that it was going back to Dublin, but a little nervous because it might possibly change routes at a different station, and end up elsewhere. To add another wrinkle, some station names were in Gaelic, and the English versions weren't much easier to pronounce.

As we conferred, trying to figure the whole mess out, a nice couple across the row asked where we were heading.

"To Tara," Amber said.

They stared at us blankly.

"Tare-ah?" Amber repeated. Still nothing. 

She pointed to it on the map, and suddenly their eyes lit up. 

"Oh, TAR-ah!" they said, and we nodded. (Later on, we cracked up, because honestly, Tare-ah wasn't all that different from Tar-ah!)

And with that, we'd made new friends. They asked where we were from, how long we'd been here, where we were going, and if we liked it so far. We had a great conversation until their stop a few minutes later. They waved goodbye, bid us a good trip, and left us happy and relieved to be on the right train.

We finally made it back to the hotel around 9:30, after stopping to take a million photos of the Ha' Penny Bridge at dusk. 

I was drained--we'd run ourselves ragged, and some serious exhaustion was setting in. We were leaving town early the next morning, and my big plans for the night were to organize and re-pack my suitcase.

But then we walked in to the hotel. We heard voices, three of them, singing along to guitars. It seemed no matter where you go in Dublin, even home, there are talented musicians serenading you.

Amber looked at me excitedly. "Just for a little while," she said, hopefully.

Grumpy Old Person Heather thought, "I'm exhausted."  

Young Fun Heather thought, "I came to Ireland for the music, not to go to bed early!" 

The argument lasted all of three seconds, then I nodded at Amber. I could go to bed early any night I wanted at home. We were gonna soak in some local flavor!

So we headed into the bar, where we spent another fantastic evening listening to great music and drinking great local beers (a blonde Guinness!). 

And heck yeah, the packing could wait!
  

Day 2: Dublin Back to College!

After a quick breakfast at a cafe, Day 2 started at Trinity College. The guidebooks warned of dreadfully long tour lines, but happily, we only waited 10 minutes. 

 Our guide was a delightful young Irish woman who'd just graduated Trinity. She pointed out all sorts of wonderful things about the campus, such as the elaborate dining hall re-built four times because it kept sinking into the boggy land. (They finally shored it up on the last re-build.) She pointed out the two enormous oak trees in the quad, imported from Oregon, and asked if we knew why they grew so large here.

"Rain?" someone asked.

"Yes, Dublin does get a lot of rain, and the trees love all that rain," she answered, which made me think she didn't know much about Oregon's environment.

But the real answer was dead monks. 

"There are 400 monks buried here in the quad," she told us. "Which makes for very rich soil." 

The quad used to be a cemetery for the monks, but in Ireland, you can reclaim the land after 400 years. (Makes sense on a small island with a constant population.) Which is how the monk cemetery became the campus' main quad, complete with "Keep off the grass" signs.

That kind of freaked us out a bit, but explained the signs. (I was okay once I found out they were out of respect, and not just a snarky way to keep students from enjoying the beautiful grounds.)

The guide also described the dorms behind the quad, and how unlucky it was to live there. 

"There's no heat in that building," she said, as we all gasped, because that seems downright cruel during an Irish winter! (We had on fleece jackets in mid-summer--I could only imagine how cold winter is!) She also pointed out a bright blue exterior door. 

"And that's the bathroom," she explained. "Accessible only from outside the building. That's right, if you want to shower, you must leave the building and enter the bathroom from outside." 

That also seemed cruel on a cold, wintry night! (Or any night, actually.)

There was one last reason to live elsewhere--the building was haunted. Apparently, a curmudgeonly professor had once lived in the building, frequently yelling at students being loud outside (the original grumpy old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn!). In response, a couple inebriated students returned with shotguns to scare the professor, but wound up shooting and killing him instead. They were sons of wealthy men, so they didn't go to prison, although they were kicked out of school for breaking the window with the shotgun. The professor's spirit remained, haunting students to this day.

But ghosts and dead monks aside, there are some cool benefits of attending Trinity. If you pass all your second-year finals, tuition is free the last two years. They also have an amazing art loan program. As a student, you can borrow any piece of art that Trinity owns. Our guide told us of her friend who received a small Van Gogh, which hung inconspicuously on her dorm room wall for the school year. Way better than an unframed music poster, if you ask me!

Trinity College is also home to the Book of Kells and the Old Library. The Book of Kells, an illuminated manuscript, contains the Four Gospels, and was illustrated by monks in painstaking detail. It's the most famous artifact in Ireland and is quite beautiful.

It's also the reason so many tourists visit Trinity College. So after our tour ended, we dutifully stood in line to see the Book. This line was longer, but moved fairly quickly, and there was some good people-watching opportunities while we waited.

Just inside the building was a very detailed exhibit explaining the Book, and its illustrations. I'm sure there was lots of great info, but there were also lots of people, so Amber and I made an executive decision, and skipped right past it all.

The Book was displayed in a big cabinet. You walk up to it, wait your turn/jostle your way in, and then look down on it. The pages were adorned with gilded pages and fancy writing with very detailed illustrations. However, it was a very tiny space filled with lots of people, so we took a good look, and moved on. 

We followed the signs to the next exhibit, the Old Library. The Book of Kells was cool, but the Old Library...man, that took my breath away! Literally. 

The Library was a long, narrow room with high ceilings and floor-to-wall windows that lit the room in a soft, dusky light. The walls, railings, and ceiling were carved of rich dark wood, and bookshelves lined every possible space. Ladders rested against the shelves, to reach the books at the very tippy-top. It all felt regal, mysterious, commanding quiet respect and hushed voices. It felt like we'd just stepped inside the Hogwarts library. 

The room was massive, yet warm and inviting, comforting; I wanted to live there, among the books and ethereal light, and spend the rest of my days reading. 

Amber and I spent a long time in there, slowly moving forward from the back of the library. We sat on the benches, pondering the room, and all the books. At the very front, on the second floor, we could see a man at a desk hard at work under a bright lamp. He was restoring the old books, cleaning their covers and preserving the pages. He worked at a furious pace, completely oblivious to the crowds below him.

Honestly, we could've stayed there all day, but we had a full schedule and only a few days to see it all. Reluctantly, we bid the library farewell, and went on to the next activity. 

Which was...ice cream! And not just any old ice cream, but Murphy's ice cream! My friend Mary Ann insisted we go to as many Murphy's as we could (there are three), and swore we'd thank her forever after. We certainly did.

One of the other Trinity guides directed us toward Murphy's and told us to try a really unusual flavor--salt! He said it paired amazingly well with other traditional flavors, such as chocolate or caramel. We didn't get that creative, opting instead to go with our adorable server's suggestion--a Caramel Mingle, with honeycomb and butterscotch ice cream, butterscotch sauce, and a salted caramel cream.

Un. Be. Lieve. Able!!!! And soooooo good. Mary Ann definitely steered us in the right on Murphy's!

With a good sugar buzz going, Amber and I walked toward Dublin Castle and the Chester Beatty Library (yes, it was a library kind of day). We wandered around the giant maze on the lawn, and photographed the gorgeous garden.

Chester Beatty is on the castle grounds, so we started there. All the guidebooks said it is an amazing museum, possibly the best in all of Europe. We climbed the stairs to the second floor, and as we approached, the double doors slid open automatically, giving us quite a grand entrance.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" I sang, arms wide open, waiting for angels to appear. Yeah, it was that kind of moment!

A lady sitting on a nearby bench giggled at us. 

"It's spectacular," she said, nodding toward the exhibit. "You're going to LOVE it. It will change your life." 

And so we entered, all big expectations and excitement. But what we found was a little disappointing. I mean, the artwork was great and all, but it was our second day in Ireland, and we were falling seriously in love with everything Irish--the people, the music, the ice cream, the brogues, the sights. And then suddenly--180 degree turn--we're smack dab in the middle of a whole museum filled with Asian art. Which was very nice, even downright gorgeous, but...our mindset was stuck on Ireland right then, not Asia or the Middle East.

"I'm okay leaving after this," Amber whispered to me 15 minutes in.

"Me too," I said, gratefully. "Except...we have to make sure that lady is gone first!" 

This exhibit changed her life...we couldn't possible exit past her so quickly! Luckily, when we peeked out the door, she was gone.

We ambled over to Dublin Castle next, stopping to take about a trillion photos of the chapel. Just as we were walking past the front door, a tour appeared. The guide unlocked the door, ushering them in, and I nudged Amber.

"Let's go!" I said, curious to see inside.

It was equally gorgeous on the inside. We sat in the back, admiring the ornate pews and fancy ceilings, as the guide told us all about the chapel. The tourists all around us spoke German, so I was just thankful the guide did not. 

We left with the tour group, and headed up toward the castle courtyard and front entrance. It was jammed with people. Amber and I decided to skip the tour and focus on something more important--lunch at the Hairy Lemon. It was every bit as good as the name was silly. 

Then it was back to sightseeing! We boarded our personal limo (the HOHO bus) and returned to the Guinness Storehouse. We'd only made it through the first two floors yesterday, so we started on the third floor, which had a great exhibit of Guinness ads. We took a million goofy photos, except in the digital photo booth--we were too short for the camera! (Apparently, everything in Ireland was built by tall men with no regard for short women. We found this with all the bar tables, bathroom mirrors, sinks, etc. I was too short to reach anything--including the floor from my bar stools!--in Ireland.)

Each trip to the Storehouse comes with a free pint, which we sampled yesterday in the Gravity Bar. Today, we worked for our beer. Amber and I attended the Guinness Academy, where we learned to pull the perfect pint. So if you ever have a party (and a keg of Guinness), you should definitely invite Amber and I, as we're certified in the art of pulling pints. 

We spent so much time at the Storehouse that we had to cab it back to the hotel for our next activity--dinner with Amber's Irish friend Eimear! 

Eimear was great. She and Amber hadn't seen each other since college, but fell easily into catching up. We strolled the streets of Dublin in search of dinner, and Eimear was clearly feeling a lot of pressure to pick just the right place.  

"Where would you go with your friends?" Amber asked. "If you all met up for dinner, where would you eat?"

That immediately took the pressure off. "Oh!" Eimear said. "This place is really good."

And that's how we ended up in an Italian restaurant for dinner. With an Irish girl. Who ordered a hamburger. ;-) (They also had fish and chips on the menu!)

"I don't like Irish food," Eimear admitted later. "Or Guinness."

"What!" Amber and I cried. But hey, I'm half Mexican and don't like Mexican food, so who am I to judge? I realized I'd found my European counterpart!

Dinner was great. We quizzed Eimear on everything Irish, and she was a good sport about it. Afterward, we strolled the streets of Dublin, walking Eimear to her bus stop. She told us stories about all the different shops and streets, and about Irish life. It was great to spend time with a local person, and learn about the country through her perspective.

We left Eimear at her stop, and walked toward our hotel. It was late, around 10:30, and we'd had a busy, busy day. We were a bit tired, but not sure we were ready for bed just yet. What I love about Amber is that, like me, she hates to miss out an anything. She doesn't want to miss a party, a sight, any place that seems interesting. It's why we had so much fun on our trip, and why we came back absolutely exhausted. Sometimes you need a person who says, "Enough! We need to rest!" 

However, Amber and I are NOT those people! We only had one more day in Dublin, and we weren't going to miss anything. So we turned back into Temple Bar, found a pub with live music, and drank beer until they closed around midnight. 

We'd only been in town about 36 hours, but man, we'd already seen a lot! And we still had more (much more!) to see...