tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23613184379422757012024-03-13T21:29:08.661-07:00UK/Ireland Travels 2015Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-71900758218516605982016-01-19T22:32:00.001-08:002016-01-30T09:45:07.078-08:009/16 and 9/17 - Outward Bound and Tally Ho!<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/16 and 9/17 - Outward Bound and Tally Ho!<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212369297291595985&authkey=Gv1sRgCJGTwZDP2LrWWA&feat=email">here</a>.</i><br />
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In the morning on<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wednesday 9/16, we drove from Davis to Walnut Creek. Ty dropped me and the bags at Bart, then took our car to Patrick’s, where it would live for our trip. Patrick generously donated his space in his complex to us and drove Ty back to Bart. We rode Bart for an hour to SFO, and that might have been the most diversity I saw on this trip (although parts of London and Dublin came close). The Bay Area is a truly amazing place. </div>
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We flew SFO to Toronto, had a nice and reasonable layover there, then Toronto to Dublin redeye. Sadly this plane was smaller and less comfortable than our first flight and sleeping was tough. Once we landed in Dublin, we sweated through a slow customs line and raced to our next terminal, where we almost immediately boarded an Aer Lingus flight to London. We then took the tube in to Kensington to our hotel, arriving around 6pm on Thursday, 9/17.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From home door to hotel door took about 26 hours.</div>
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We were able to navigate the Oyster card system for the tube after talking to an agent and as always the London tube was easy to use, efficient and comfortable. It was nice to see the outskirts of London turning into the city as we rode in. Our hotel was not far from the Earl’s Court station and easy to find, on an adorable side street in Kensington. Despite being a pretty posh neighborhood (chosen for walking around safety at night, being relatively close to attractions in London and rugby, and hotel value), it was pretty diverse, at least in restaurants and markets. There was a Lebanese market we would visit often just down the street. I wish we had more time to explore the side streets, shops, and food in this area. Would definitely stay there again. </div>
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Our hotel, the <a href="http://www.londonlodgehotel.com/">London Lodge,</a> was the most expensive of the trip but reasonable for the city, accommodating, and comfortable. It’s built into the row houses of this neighborhood so felt somewhere between a hotel and a B&B. We had great breakfasts – very large continental included in the room price, and the staff were kind and helpful. The room was smallish but perfectly fine and the bathroom was great – including a great old tub for soaking. We had a nice view of the Kensington row houses out the window, and the neighborhood and hotel were quiet. I think it was a great value for the cost and a good location – out of the bustle of Earls Court station area but just a five-minute walk away. </div>
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We did find the tip to stay awake until local bedtime helpful on both ends of this trip. We weren’t completely immune to the time change but the big city, being happy to be off a plane, and the general confusion about time zones over the last few days made it easier to stay awake. We took the tube down to the <a href="https://www.londoneye.com/">London Eye</a>, where I’d read about a river cruise that I thought might be a nice introduction to the city and a low-key event if our bodies pooped out on us. We didn’t realize the London Eye was such a tourist trap – there were so many people! The Eye’s pods were decorated with flags for each rugby team nation in honor of the games, and the usual Red and White (Coca Cola owns the Eye) night lights were changed to the RWC colors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we didn’t feel the need to ride the Eye, it was fun to have such a large visual reminder of why we were here. </div>
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The area around the Eye and cruise is in the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_Bank">South Bank</a> neighborhood, which has restaurants, street performers, festivals, tourist traps (wax museums and tchotsche shops) and views of the great historic buildings along the Thames. We had touristy food at an international café and walked around while waiting for our cruise. There was a lot of hub-bub, and Ty noticed a food truck for a restaurant we’d had our eye on, reportedly the best burger in London. The idea of great burgers in London was funny to us – but we went back later and it was very, very good. </div>
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The cruise was cold but gorgeous – at the tail end of sunset, with big blustery clouds changing from white to red and orange, then to grey and then dramatically lit by the city. We sailed past Parliament and Big Ben, under the Tower and London Bridges, past the Tate Moderne and the Tower of London, all narrated by a funny Brit who only we laughed at. Most folks were presumably non-English speaking, and/or were too busy taking selfies, to hear the bad jokes and constant admonitions to stay seated. After the tour we crossed over the river and took our obligatory pictures with Big Ben and his clocktower, and then caught the tube home. </div>
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Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-48430870815143294702016-01-19T22:31:00.004-08:002016-01-30T09:45:22.935-08:009/18 - London, Day 2 – Museum Day, or the Upside of Empire<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/18<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- London, Day 2 – Museum Day, or the Upside of Empire<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212369297291595985&authkey=Gv1sRgCJGTwZDP2LrWWA&feat=email">here</a>.</i></div>
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This day was devoted to the <a href="http://www.britishmuseum.org/">British Museum</a> and <a href="http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/">National Gallery</a>, which in my opinion must be the best travel deals in the world. You can see pilfered treasures from counties all over the world and famous artworks for free!</div>
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After our first breakfast (where I ate way too many croissants), we took the tube to Covent Garden station and walked through this upscale shopping neighborhood to the British Museum. I’d wisely thought to fit this in before the weekend crowds hit – so despite Friday being our first full day in the city we’d be inside. But I forgot that weekdays mean field trips! Tons of small kids in uniforms walking in lovely British lines – and they really were much less obnoxious than field trippers at home. </div>
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The Museum is huge, and its contents unending, but we tried to see at least a little of each gallery. Sadly the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosetta_Stone">Rosetta Stone</a> is now behind glass, and nearly impossible to get to for people taking pictures without really even reading or appreciating what they are seeing. We did manage to read that the Egyptian hieroglyph for cat is the phonetic sound for “meow” followed by a cat symbol. Seems practical to me!</div>
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The other treasures are more exposed and less crowded still. We saw Korean pottery, Assyrian stone murals and gateway lions, Egyptian mummies, Roman jewelry, Samurai armour, Greek facades and statues (the Elgin Marbles may be returned to Greece by the next time we visit), West African masks and swords, an Easter island statue, a modern wedding dress made of traditional bark cloth from the pacific islands, and more. This was the only day of rain in London for us, and we were inside missing it. </div>
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We stayed most of the day, missing the lunch hour and racing to the National Gallery before it closed. We walked briskly through the theater district and I was sad we didn’t have time for a show. Or rather energy – I could tell we’d be tired every night! Ty didn’t see much of Trafalgar Square because a Malaysian tourism festival had set up shop with a large stage and many tents. We decided to skip this to see the artwork – it was also quieter, warmer, and less crowded inside. </div>
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The artwork was stunning, and we discovered that normally-dispassionate Ty has a serious bone to pick with Renaissance art. Tired and not THAT artsy, we made a game of re-captioning famous works with more honest titles (“starving artist begrudgingly paints his landlord’s discordant family a bit too honestly”) and creating our own critiques. I’m not sure I’ve laughed harder. We also found pieces to enjoy and appreciate – but I’m not sure we would have stayed long enough to find them without Ty’s hilarious angry critiques. </div>
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We walked over to Piccadilly Circus, which is an odd mixture of spruced up Victorian architecture and blazing LED bill boards –a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bit like Mary Poppins and Times Square had a car accident. Another tourist center, this was a great people watching place, since so many of the <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=piccadilly+circus&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAmoVChMIzMm0u4LhyAIVEjqICh0rMQxa&biw=1328&bih=833#tbm=isch&q=piccadilly+circus+aerial">major boulevards intersect here,</a> and there is a nice fountain to sit and take it all in. </div>
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With the day mostly over and our bodies tired and hungry, I made a pitch to splurge on dinner. I knew I wanted to eat good Indian food in Britain, and I guessed, correctly, that though early on, this was both the time and the place for a nicer dinner. We booked a late seating at the <a href="http://www.bombayb.co.uk/">Bombay Brassery,</a> a highly reviewed Indian restaurant that luckily was not far from our hotel. We enjoyed cocktails in their lounge and slowly realized the restaurant was based on the British “country clubs” in India – which we’d also seen remnants of in Thailand. Having just read a novel based on the exclusionary racism of these clubs and their patrons, I felt just a bit guilty about this whole idea – until the food came. It was amazing, the dining room was beautiful, and I decided to just submit and enjoy the upside of empire. Thanks, rest of the world, for your sacrifices! </div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMTYSLFSQKtTWNHZ_QuHxQPttgcngry0l6_9o-sF5awwTkPAv35bwGseiqWMZnv4HSW2zT5UMvWEhnJ9ckBbQ5vnGnShWu00o1vdJN784HnneOtBMdLz0HC6aMbgQxk104GI_dXv3tOA/s1600/2015-09-18+21.20.48.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMTYSLFSQKtTWNHZ_QuHxQPttgcngry0l6_9o-sF5awwTkPAv35bwGseiqWMZnv4HSW2zT5UMvWEhnJ9ckBbQ5vnGnShWu00o1vdJN784HnneOtBMdLz0HC6aMbgQxk104GI_dXv3tOA/s400/2015-09-18+21.20.48.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge0-E-QN2k-Sf3KGtrJhSzl24E0haydyZGM3Kj0H3gSZuvVKIxhxjPo7zyhLYuHZltoCAI_lPncgN-x3XtTzkk87NTChHf8HyfZMfteMRkOhfUJhJ95DnnQ4BDYB9pdMalb-CcgFb5g6k/s1600/2015-09-18+20.23.13.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge0-E-QN2k-Sf3KGtrJhSzl24E0haydyZGM3Kj0H3gSZuvVKIxhxjPo7zyhLYuHZltoCAI_lPncgN-x3XtTzkk87NTChHf8HyfZMfteMRkOhfUJhJ95DnnQ4BDYB9pdMalb-CcgFb5g6k/s400/2015-09-18+20.23.13.jpg" width="300" /></a></o:p></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-90100693540057064382016-01-19T22:31:00.001-08:002016-01-30T09:46:18.326-08:009/19 - London, Day 3 – Flea Markets and Rugby: Shoulder to Shoulder Day<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/19 - London, Day 3 – Flea Markets and Rugby: Shoulder to Shoulder Day<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212377971492058897&authkey=Gv1sRgCJaUlcTrg6TIxAE&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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The RWC game we would be attending was at Twickenham Stadium in Richmond, a suburb around 40 minutes from London. We had a long morning to enjoy before we started down for the game, so we decided to get up early to avoid the crowds at the <a href="http://www.portobelloroad.co.uk/">Portobello Road antique market</a> in Notting Hill. I was curious to see what a British antique fair would be like, hopefully find some gifts, and show Ty this semi-famous part of town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 9am there were already more people than I’d like – but by the time we left around noon, it was wall to wall people (which we’d experience again later at the game). I found some fun gifts, and in an antique shop I found a treasure for me: wooden <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=batik+fabric+stamps&client=safari&rls=en&biw=1328&bih=833&tbm=isch&imgil=-3gXt5Gz3JSg6M%3A%3Bl5GllNjHpJlPWM%3Bhttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.flyingfourchette.com%2F2013%2F10%2F11%2Fmaking-batik-in-ashaiman%2F&source=iu&pf=m&fir=-3gXt5Gz3JSg6M%3A%2Cl5GllNjHpJlPWM%2C_&usg=__e5OCiz6Nddhl9NdcDR50wi-M3YY%3D&ved=0CFgQyjdqFQoTCKv4mbHb4MgCFRDYYwod-1wNHg&ei=0WkuVuvLFJCwjwP7ubXwAQ#imgrc=-3gXt5Gz3JSg6M%3A&usg=__e5OCiz6Nddhl9NdcDR50wi-M3YY%3D">batik fabric stamps</a> – both new (read: affordable) and used (read: expensive). I have a few new stamps that I found in Berkeley and was happy to find new intricate patterns, as well as a larger used stamp that was 1/3 the price I would have to pay at home. </div>
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We had a nice stopover in a hipster gin bar (<a href="http://portobellostarbar.co.uk/">the Portobello Star</a>) that I’d read about. It seemed appropriately British to trade in our bourbon cocktails for gin, and they had a menu that read like a book, plus their own home brewed gin. We enjoyed a rest and a drink, and then headed home for lunch – leftovers from Bombay Brassery on our hotel bed while watching another rugby game!</div>
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After a great indoor picnic and rest, we headed out for the rugby game. We took a tube ride to a train station, then a short train (nothing like train rides at home) to Richmond. We were surrounded by rugby fans – mostly French who’d chunneled over, but also Brits and Australians now rooting for Italy (really, rooting against France). We tried to find a pub in Richmond for pre-game dinner and excitement, but wound up in a tiny, quant Italian restaurant eating pasta with locals who didn’t really care about rugby. At least it was theme-appropriate to be eating Italian! We also stopped at the Richmond RWC Fan Zone. The organizers kindly created these places for locals to watch the games on giant outdoor screens, since most folks can’t afford the expensive ticket prices (but do have to put up with all of tourists flooding in for the games). The Fan Zone looked festive but chaotic – much like a county fair with giant screens showing rugby. We watched a few minutes of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIXcEWrGtsM">Japan vs. South Africa</a>, not realizing that this would be the upset game of the whole tournament. </div>
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Richmond is a nice suburb town along the river, which we’d hoped to walk through on our way to <a href="http://www.englandrugby.com/twickenham/">Twickenham Stadium</a>. However the crowds and chaos were much more confusing than we’d imagined, and we opted to play it safe and take a shuttle bus straight to the stadium, where we were amazed to see such a giant venue dedicated to rugby. And so, so many fans! We popped into the gift shop for theme clothing and made our way to our seats. There were fans everywhere. It was unreal. </div>
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<o:p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBvpayYKp51XSbn8Rg82OEoAey7qsoF7NYENGeN0wc3ubNDTNwoRvfsaoPcRRLB8CpyykPlw44SYXjQ-oQnE4g5yJXvZwzzE5gu9R-93dDPGdbygRIT7RFA8i81hRXORGxCUz7XvvcMU/s1600/2015-09-19+18.45.23.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBvpayYKp51XSbn8Rg82OEoAey7qsoF7NYENGeN0wc3ubNDTNwoRvfsaoPcRRLB8CpyykPlw44SYXjQ-oQnE4g5yJXvZwzzE5gu9R-93dDPGdbygRIT7RFA8i81hRXORGxCUz7XvvcMU/s400/2015-09-19+18.45.23.jpg" width="400" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYsQI8jzAqZDWf9hRdgMM7F0QJgKG5HvmIcboNHmv5q54kIL9rbCZPTSMq02IvmNmaZlCc1O1mos7fyWRn7F_QeC1Pp38qwc1PiA99j4cULNF9Ym7uPA1T7NF9svXKbmkl0wxTknr98M/s1600/2015-09-19+18.47.33.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYsQI8jzAqZDWf9hRdgMM7F0QJgKG5HvmIcboNHmv5q54kIL9rbCZPTSMq02IvmNmaZlCc1O1mos7fyWRn7F_QeC1Pp38qwc1PiA99j4cULNF9Ym7uPA1T7NF9svXKbmkl0wxTknr98M/s400/2015-09-19+18.47.33.jpg" width="300" /></a></o:p></div>
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The game was great fun. There was a laser show, national anthems, and the usual pomp and circumstance. Fans were dressed up and enthusiastic, but everyone was positive and friendly. There were more crying men than I was used to. The match was not particularly close (French is much better than Italy so this was expected) but not so much of a blowout that we didn’t enjoy the tension. The fans of each nation would break out in patriotic songs of their homeland to rouse the teams – of course France’s songs were louder and more common since most of Italy’s fans were not actually Italian, but it was a unique way to see the European identities as Americans! We were impressed by the incredibly orderly fans, how clean everything was, and how positive everyone was. We were told that beer is served at rugby matches because everyone behaves themselves – much like the reputation of rugby players themselves congratulating, hosting, and befriending their rival teams after matches. Apparently the same stadiums won’t serve beer at soccer matches. </div>
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The Twickenham Stadium holds 80,000 people, and we heard attendance was in the 76,000 range for this game. We estimated that 74,000 of these fans came by public transit – and while we came at various times throughout the day, we were all leaving at once. Poor Richmond’s system couldn’t handle us. We filled the streets of Twickenham, making our way by foot the mile or so to Richmond and the train station. Everyone was singing, cheering, well-wishing, and generally enjoying ourselves, but as the trains filled up we became more and more congested, until we were shuffling slowly shoulder to shoulder, sidewalk to sidewalk through the streets. It was the most people I’ve been in contact with in my life, and the safest I’ve felt in a public setting. It’s hard to describe the sense of camaraderie we felt – I am not sure it really happens in America to this degree or with this many people. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb40MH-hAycMsv0ZkcScn6uvueMPrhi43ghegqXmh04syL0UG1azW9YTJXn958wyhwXLJbP5gMgt4KxLd2y6wX5gguA6xjKNZU-275wvsNCulC17A0jEOsH_xvXZYtSHsi5I3f3N0oCMk/s1600/2015-09-19+22.22.25.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb40MH-hAycMsv0ZkcScn6uvueMPrhi43ghegqXmh04syL0UG1azW9YTJXn958wyhwXLJbP5gMgt4KxLd2y6wX5gguA6xjKNZU-275wvsNCulC17A0jEOsH_xvXZYtSHsi5I3f3N0oCMk/s640/2015-09-19+22.22.25.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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While it seemed the RWC did not plan the public transit exit strategy very well, they did at least put out porta-potties along the route, and some enterprising street vendors had food. Residents would watch us from their windows – we were mooned once (which brought cheers from the crown) and then frontal-ed (which brought jeers)! I’m sure we were a multi-national spectacle for the residences as much as we’d enjoyed the spectacle of the game. It’s hard to imagine another sporting event with so much love and respect and shared enjoyment. </div>
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We did end up just standing for about an hour just one block from the station. We’d spend nearly an hour shuffling one mile before this. People were sobering up and grumbling a bit, but still nothing unsavory. Mostly folks were worried that we would all not make it on to the trains before they closed at midnight – but officials promised us the trains would run until we were all home. We made it from train to tube, and watched as international fans commingled with London local young people taking the same tube ride into the city for Saturday night partying. It was an interesting version of international relations!</div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-4828731204427048662016-01-19T22:30:00.003-08:002016-01-30T09:46:50.266-08:009/20 London Day 4: “Rest” Day<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/20 London Day 4: “Rest” Day<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212377971492058897&authkey=Gv1sRgCJaUlcTrg6TIxAE&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Assuming we’d be tired from rugby, we didn’t have a lot planned for this day. We knew there was a USA game in the afternoon and decided to build our day around watching that. The weather was gorgeous and so we walked to <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=hyde+park&client=safari&rls=en&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0CDQQsARqFQoTCLTaxdfh8MgCFVT5Ywod6kEIRg&biw=1328&bih=809">Hyde Park</a> to enjoy being outside and decompressing from the crazy schedule of the last few days. Blue skies, warm breezes, yipping dogs frolicking, youth football (soccer) games and families with strollers in the park – it was almost enough to make you forget you were in a major world city. We wandered around Kensington Palace but opted for the gardens over the indoor exhibits. </div>
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We found a pub in Knightsbridge to watch the USA game and reveled in knowing that Tristan’s tiny face was on the flyhalf’s jersey – we had “sponsored” the USA team buy buying a spot in the photo collage that made up their jersey numbers. USA lost, as was to be expected, but it was still exciting to see our home country represented. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFR3JBC7YHmAC_LooXTavR9hoDgjsGJRKNL448MwTQe7ZuLLa-dJAHUxiUoR5abhd-TJcN7uoWw_z_ZJ-T1_D0XhCCQeQIcUs0T_jokec-6SLoQyRCY9MRZbh7-w8cPMZbigo1_1NNWDc/s1600/2015-09-20+12.44.12.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFR3JBC7YHmAC_LooXTavR9hoDgjsGJRKNL448MwTQe7ZuLLa-dJAHUxiUoR5abhd-TJcN7uoWw_z_ZJ-T1_D0XhCCQeQIcUs0T_jokec-6SLoQyRCY9MRZbh7-w8cPMZbigo1_1NNWDc/s400/2015-09-20+12.44.12.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxn6_WJBf5pPa9g7G8dTIoy0zVT0wA_8HczIw-rkkcqd39ysiOcbztMYBgRWsFftUzhePxgYEtsWVu-mhk6_XuO-UH2Dfq8Kv5nOQ_R0972p4f_Mtc0GHlq26f1NwpLfpcyXuIjqnapk/s1600/2015-09-20+12.58.03.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxn6_WJBf5pPa9g7G8dTIoy0zVT0wA_8HczIw-rkkcqd39ysiOcbztMYBgRWsFftUzhePxgYEtsWVu-mhk6_XuO-UH2Dfq8Kv5nOQ_R0972p4f_Mtc0GHlq26f1NwpLfpcyXuIjqnapk/s400/2015-09-20+12.58.03.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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We made our way towards central London on foot, enjoying the beauty of these fancy neighborhoods and their gardens, with a stop at <a href="http://www.harrods.com/food-and-wine?icid=megamenu_FW">Harrods</a> to wander the food courts. I have to say, 10 years ago such expanses of world-foods were a wonder. Nowadays it felt like a stuffy version of Whole Foods. Of course the bakery and cakes were stunning, and walking through Harrods in general is always a reminder of that other world the super rich live in. But I also appreciated in a new way how much food exposure we have now. Stacks of dates were cute but nothing new. Sushi seemed commonplace. Jelly Bellies? We have those at home! The California wines were nothing notable, in our humble opinion. We live in a really special place, and this was a good reminder. </div>
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After Harrods we wandered through Green Park and to <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-IyxsfH2lqjI/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/n5QAA4yc-IA/s0-c-k-no-ns/photo.jpg&imgrefurl=https://plus.google.com/u/0/107958457742880061279&h=573&w=574&tbnid=e39Odu9kDXrWFM:&tbnh=160&tbnw=160&usg=__fWVFv-0t7BfLnAZooV8s141QGb8=&docid=Uaj1L4-2aJVCpM&itg=1&client=safari">Buckingham Palace</a>. Since we had no agenda for the day, why not see what all the fuss is about? It was pretty in a city garden sort of way. It was hard to imagine the crowds here for major royal events, but it was an interesting stop nonetheless. Also, we found ice cream in the park and enjoyed a cone. We realized we’d almost wound our way back to the House of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and decided to visit those while we were seeing all the classic tourist spots of London. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKEiUtnMaFTply2qLNbyiiTWlkTxb_VLauf-Sa5XWTG1ZW8nbN7u1gB1C6VRLkNCxkq34K3T0i7YZvCnNwco70A5qNQPIW7MoiXprFFY173SzNyswWeq_nCMBEquhPphM_OIKsGoqboU/s1600/2015-09-20+16.17.31.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKEiUtnMaFTply2qLNbyiiTWlkTxb_VLauf-Sa5XWTG1ZW8nbN7u1gB1C6VRLkNCxkq34K3T0i7YZvCnNwco70A5qNQPIW7MoiXprFFY173SzNyswWeq_nCMBEquhPphM_OIKsGoqboU/s400/2015-09-20+16.17.31.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Being Sunday, and a working church, <a href="http://www.westminster-abbey.org/">the Abbey</a> did not host tours. However, the public was invited to the organ practice recital for that night’s service, and we decided sitting through organ music would be worth seeing the inside of the Abbey. It was fascinating to see a non-Catholic, non-cathedral hall of worship at this scale. Stained glass portrayed famous Brits who made notable contributions to society. Modern martyrs, including MLK, were iconized on the building façade. Once we were seated inside, I looked down and realized my folding chair was placed over the grave of <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/livingstone_david.shtml">David Livingstone</a>. It felt much less like a house of worship for a deity, and more of a deification of England. Fascinating of course, but a bit strange. And then the organ began. Organ music, well, I just can’t love it. I felt trapped in the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmE0QECdcL8">Phantom of the Opera score</a> and yet spent the time fighting sleep (despite the thunderous chords, all the days walking had me spent!), and pondering where the organ and its player were (out of site, behind lovely screens), and what sort of strange old man was dedicating his life to this awful music. At the end of the rehearsal, the organist (highly decorated per the program) came out for his bow, and was surprisingly young and normal. I hope others were clapping for him – I was mainly clapping that it was all over. We took the long way out, wandering past the sarcophagi of lords, knights, sirs, and other notables of the Empire. </div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8FMnoDXQI-q8SEFbdN8-aqsEak2qT40sUevrJE7ByP9qL02N3xLKbGkUEPi94XSXTysMp4h62YROPs5swKX-eZb0LWeZr8BBBJOnWjRK4AekaUqJq8ZuAY7hR5Ebvl5unNSDNrhakWQ/s1600/2015-09-20+16.35.43.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8FMnoDXQI-q8SEFbdN8-aqsEak2qT40sUevrJE7ByP9qL02N3xLKbGkUEPi94XSXTysMp4h62YROPs5swKX-eZb0LWeZr8BBBJOnWjRK4AekaUqJq8ZuAY7hR5Ebvl5unNSDNrhakWQ/s400/2015-09-20+16.35.43.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKzGJFUNy_5NGGe-_pqlIRJ6qZ5k6EyRDwhuSSHLGtkwzt2K0EulNIQmJgQfuE02t_SVhX8edQj_NTjFqyh66sDKoxNWqi1ihgY35uv-LjPHxSdU6rraap3FewY207vTXyWoHzEZj1D0/s1600/2015-09-20+17.35.56.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKzGJFUNy_5NGGe-_pqlIRJ6qZ5k6EyRDwhuSSHLGtkwzt2K0EulNIQmJgQfuE02t_SVhX8edQj_NTjFqyh66sDKoxNWqi1ihgY35uv-LjPHxSdU6rraap3FewY207vTXyWoHzEZj1D0/s400/2015-09-20+17.35.56.jpg" width="300" /></a> </o:p></div>
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Outside we wandered the Palace of Westminster (akak the Houses of Parliament), Big Ben, and other historic buildings, this time on the north side of the river and during daylight. They were stunning but inaccessible and the area was fairly empty. We tried to find a decent pub but no one was serving food, and we were starving. Little did we know that this off-timing of our hunger and public food availability was going to be a trend on this trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we did find <a href="http://ststephenstavern.co.uk/">St Stephen’s/Queens’ Head</a>, a foodless pub showing the last few minutes of a New Zealand match, and we sampled a new beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since it was built in 1873 across the street from the government powerhouses, some famous people have enjoyed a drink at this pub, and we wish we remembered them. Maybe Oscar Wilde? Definitely Churchill. Some others like that (you know, because those two are really alike…).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps if I had eaten, I could have retained all this information better. It was, at least beautiful (see link above).</div>
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After the pub, still starving, Ty had a stroke of genious and we trekked across the pedstrian bridge over the Thames back to the ultra touristy South Bank, and the <a href="https://bleeckerburger.co.uk/">Bleecker Street Burger food truck</a> that Ty had spotted on our first night. By the way, do not open that link above unless you have really good willpower or access to a fine burger. It’s going to cause cravings.</div>
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Here is Ty’s official British Burger Report:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The burger did not disappoint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We first decided to eat sensibly, splitting a burger and fries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, this burger was the shit! The meat was perfectly seasoned and juicy (i.e. pretty fatty).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The melted cheese and house special sauce topped it off, and our half burgers went down quick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It did not take much discussion before we ordered a second burger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Juliana had made friends with a local couple who were also heartily enjoying their burgers and talking up the experience we were about to have, while we were waiting for our food to emerge from the hipster food truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The locals wanted to know what we thought of the burger and it was a bit awkward eating it in front of them.</i> [Note: Juliana didn’t find this awkward at all. Either because she has not problem snarfing food in front of voyeuristic strangers, or because she was that happy to finally be eating dinner. Also, I don’t like burgers, really much at all. This was a damn good burger. I miss it. And who doesn’t respect a guy who takes a basic sponge bread bun, and combine it with dry-aged rare-breed grass feed beef AND plain old artifical American cheese? That is true high-low dining right there.]<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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We decided (or rather, I convinced a reluctant Ty) that Covent Garden wasn’t THAT far away, and I really wanted a cocktail instead of beer. The map showed a little martini glass symbol in Covent Garden and I thought such an area might still be open on Sunday night, unlike most of London apparently. After a mere 15 minute walk, we found the actual Covent Garden, a <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=piccadilly+circus&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAmoVChMIzMm0u4LhyAIVEjqICh0rMQxa&biw=1328&bih=833#tbm=isch&q=covent+garden+1800s">former large scale market</a> turned retail center. There were plenty of people wandering around, although most of the shops were closing up. There was a beautiful display of what appeared to be clusters of white balloons in a two-story atrium, with gently pulsing lights sprinkled throughout. It felt like a cloud had descended into the building and made the whole place feel less commercial. </div>
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We did find a lovely bar/restaurant and had a final cocktail, and looked forward to bed. Until I noticed on the map that <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=piccadilly+circus&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAmoVChMIzMm0u4LhyAIVEjqICh0rMQxa&biw=1328&bih=833#tbm=isch&q=london+chinatown">China Town</a> wasn’t THAT far away! I remembered walking through circa 1999 on an adventurous spring break trip with Emily and wanted to see it again. So we circled back again towards Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus, and wandered through London’s Chinatown. We got egg custards at a late night bakery. We walked and walked and walked some more. Eventually we found our way home and collapsed. Our rest day had not been restful, but had been rewarding. We’d rest in Ireland!</div>
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In case you think London doesn’t require a trip of it’s own, here’s the impressive list of things we didn’t get to, …Old Spitalfields Market (where there’s a brick and mortar Bleecker Street burger shop!), London Museum, Tower of London, St Paul’s Cathedral, Tate Modern, theaters/shows, the red deer living in Richmond Park, and of course all the places within a day trip of the city.</div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-56733689426068559612016-01-19T22:30:00.001-08:002016-01-30T09:47:05.811-08:009/21 Shannon, Doolin, and the Burren<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/21 Shannon, Doolin, and the Burren<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212386725434276945&authkey=Gv1sRgCIvjzK61gLitcw&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road trip leg 1 map <a href="https://goo.gl/maps/Zo6aZnzPWdr">here.</a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
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On Monday we took our last tube ride back to London Heathrow and had a fairly uneventful flight to Shannon, on the west coast of Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shannon does have a few direct flights to Ireland and is nicely situated if you wanted to see the south or west side of the country. From here we would road-trip up the west coast to the northern edge of the island, then back across the middle of the country to Dublin for our flight home. There are also flights from SFO to Shannon now, something to consider if traveling primarily to see the countryside of Ireland. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6OoIk5o9c7Qhgo7DxppzcSiuJsqfRguKO7tzqqpAMX4RVdmlSOajfA1Ur3lEAYO3tJR9aoMylA-j0wF8VCR7fQzZyRNDY3E65XpCAUQ0KOJfyUF3iU2rrIuzm3ycSqbQum7n7jHtv-rg/s1600/2015-09-21+12.08.14.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6OoIk5o9c7Qhgo7DxppzcSiuJsqfRguKO7tzqqpAMX4RVdmlSOajfA1Ur3lEAYO3tJR9aoMylA-j0wF8VCR7fQzZyRNDY3E65XpCAUQ0KOJfyUF3iU2rrIuzm3ycSqbQum7n7jHtv-rg/s400/2015-09-21+12.08.14.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Despite our best efforts, the car company bamboozled us for insurance, and that combined with pretty heavy air sickness made for a rough couple of hours for me. None of which helped Ty get comfortable with taking the captains seat in a right-hand drive car! We picked up our tiny little Skoda – although it had four doors so it wasn’t tiny by European standards! Ty wisely took a few practice laps around the rental car lot, promptly running over a curb on the first turn, (which wasn’t very lappable, poor guy) and then we headed out. </div>
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Our first stop was the well-marketed <a href="http://www.shannonheritage.com/BunrattyCastleAndFolkPark/">Bunratty Castle</a>, just a few kilometers down the road. I’d hoped we could get a few practice miles in before driving through the big town of Shannon – although Shannon is not a big town and the highways wisely go around towns in Ireland anyhow. We also hoped to grab lunch and check off seeing a castle before driving out to the coast. </div>
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The castle is small but well preserved, and has been refurbished on the interior. They have built a historic medieval village around it, as well as the requisite tourist stops. This made for easy lunch but high entrance fees, and a bit of a smarmy feel. So we ate lunch, walked around the perimeter, and left. I have heard the medieval banquette dinners are worth attending, but it felt a bit like Sutters Fort in Sac – fun for field trips and small kids, but not worth paying to see as an adult. </div>
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We also started to get the feel of castles in Ireland: they are not the abodes of kings, but rather any fortified home or defensive building. They are still beautiful but founded in territorial disputes, not fairytale stories. </div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyuuanzFkV0t8tgOW6etnoOPtCIqa-lFFzNZFFqxZtK0Oo5w21MemBPxs8Dmq9MiEDd-aYHl5vRyt4h4hAaC1JIeKaNqdWtuUZPhootxvbn986LyGAOZfTD8e3tXO86x_ubMkSl6kHyk/s1600/2015-09-21+14.19.52.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyuuanzFkV0t8tgOW6etnoOPtCIqa-lFFzNZFFqxZtK0Oo5w21MemBPxs8Dmq9MiEDd-aYHl5vRyt4h4hAaC1JIeKaNqdWtuUZPhootxvbn986LyGAOZfTD8e3tXO86x_ubMkSl6kHyk/s400/2015-09-21+14.19.52.jpg" width="400" /></a> </o:p></div>
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We took beautiful winding roads out to <a href="http://www.doolin-tourism.com/">Doolin village</a>, on the west coast and around 1.5 hours from Shannon. Ty took to most of the right hand driving quickly, and having country roads to learn on was a good way to start. They are narrow but generally lower speeds and not crowded. And in this part of the country they aren’t surrounded by rock walls (we would experience that special form of high speed claustrophobia soon enough). The day was lovely and the countryside everything we expected it to be: rolling hills, quaint towns, green everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found Doolin, which has expanded considerably since I came in 2001, but which is still quaint and charming. I believe it was around this time that we noticed that Ireland does not, apparently, use street numbers in its addresses. I believe Dublin and it’s suburbs might be the exception, but we never had an address to search for in west or north-west Ireland, just country road directions and the name of the lodge in case we had to pull over and ask for help. Thankfully there just aren’t many roads to choose from!</div>
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Doolin sits at the sea down the road from the famous Cliffs of Moher and is also a regional <a href="http://www.doolin-tourism.com/music.php">hub for traditional music</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are four sweater shops, one music shop, one café, and four places to get dinner (all pubs), but dozens of guest houses, hotels and B&Bs. Most importantly, one of the hotels has laundry service (and the nicest staff, from Hungary, who helped us with our laundry). </div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhyphenhyphen-tFx3sXUKywpqM6HMGikA8SzTHeE8LFmy3GVFJzHUFtpkGOJp6Pn3dlea4F4M7BifTCaGwoyrX6XwbN_oMPio8l4yJDGT0ldz8815n1Pd2eIChuqI3DQlhPlRwJXM0ZPcDLIf_LtY/s1600/DSC_0056.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhyphenhyphen-tFx3sXUKywpqM6HMGikA8SzTHeE8LFmy3GVFJzHUFtpkGOJp6Pn3dlea4F4M7BifTCaGwoyrX6XwbN_oMPio8l4yJDGT0ldz8815n1Pd2eIChuqI3DQlhPlRwJXM0ZPcDLIf_LtY/s640/DSC_0056.JPG" width="640" /></a> </o:p></div>
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That first night we went down to the shoreline at the west edge of town, where I bee-lined for this amazing corner of coast that I’d wanted to show Ty for years. The Burren (more on that later) gets exposed here at the water’s edge, and where the rolling grasses stop, the rock tiers out to the water in exposed ledges. The seawater crashes against the edge, while the fresh water trickling down from the hills carves unique patterns into the limestone. The rock splits in geometric patterns and long, straight lines. In some spots you can hear and feel waves crashing underneath you, even though you are 10-20 feet above the sea. It’s one of the most special places I have been, and I’ve wanted to come back for 14 years. Watching the sun set through dramatic clouds over the water, feeling the wind of a storm coming in from the sea, looking back at the rolling green hills and the Cliffs of Moher cascading down the coast from us – and knowing I’d been able to finally bring Ty here – was a highlight of the trip. I let out a particular breath I’d been holding and reveled in the moment. Then we scurried back up the shoreline to the car park as the rain started falling! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2s0RfSlMmEMBlfa1vwweTBpPJFX65sGdeUtGPZAav0u85wiZgUdblyiRp2Xyt-k6dS5dSs21xIi0rpkc9kXMVIEzRI33dTWlqy7_MBbwU4qwJSUGTlzT0EJM-6TCT3yrqpNU98Ohlw0/s1600/2015-09-21+18.36.20.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2s0RfSlMmEMBlfa1vwweTBpPJFX65sGdeUtGPZAav0u85wiZgUdblyiRp2Xyt-k6dS5dSs21xIi0rpkc9kXMVIEzRI33dTWlqy7_MBbwU4qwJSUGTlzT0EJM-6TCT3yrqpNU98Ohlw0/s400/2015-09-21+18.36.20.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPgpUEs7RwsC6ONvPs5nCvRpKyfRsFEBF6kZ1h1kEtdq2shwZtBeGM5NDgHFaRLkQ6BMMkoTDZRFjeX3hvngfa-sWjIzC86LK5Y0_3nKq8OnceZQfJoo8Q2SdYrZ4NlLr75DrX_1gtTQ/s1600/2015-09-21+18.35.45+HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPgpUEs7RwsC6ONvPs5nCvRpKyfRsFEBF6kZ1h1kEtdq2shwZtBeGM5NDgHFaRLkQ6BMMkoTDZRFjeX3hvngfa-sWjIzC86LK5Y0_3nKq8OnceZQfJoo8Q2SdYrZ4NlLr75DrX_1gtTQ/s400/2015-09-21+18.35.45+HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Doolin was where we had the most rain in Ireland, but it still wasn’t much. Maybe 30 minutes of rain, and then beautiful sparkling grass, fresh air, and even a double rainbow. It was really magical. It was now getting dark and the shops were closed, which means there’s not much else to do in Doolin but head to the pubs. We went to <a href="http://www.gusoconnorsdoolin.com/">Gus O’Connors</a>, the most obvious pub on the main road (half a block long) in town. I remembered instantly the money-covered walls, and flashed back to being in this pub in 2001. It was warm, crowded, and full of Americans – we met folks from at least 6 states. There was a karaoke couple singing ballads – apparently this is the early dinner entertainment in Doolin. </div>
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We tucked in to the expected Irish stew, and an unexpected goat cheese salad that was fantastic. I learned you only get 3 choices of whiskey and no wine or craft cocktails in Ireland. I discovered I really liked Powers whiskey, which is not a high end brand but was closer to our bourbon than an Irish whiskey. It would become a stand by for me on the trip – I found that a hot toddy was a great cure for motion sickness! I also discovered I didn’t have the stomach to drink a 20 ounce Guinness every day, as my sweet mother in law had encouraged me to do (she gave me travel money for my birthday for just this purpose). We ended up sharing the Guinness most days, especially since for Ty, the only beer choices were Guinness, Carlsburg, and Budweiser!</div>
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There wasn’t much music seeming to happen at this pub, but some tourists we’d met said the better food was here, and the better music was up the road. We headed up to <a href="http://www.hoteldoolin.ie/fitzs-pub-doolin.html">Fitzpatricks,</a> where we found a room full of retirees mistily singing old Irish ballads along with an even more retired guitar player. We were a bit worried this was not the lively Irish music we were looking for, but decided to stay a bit anyhow. The next set was a true Irish session, with two harpists, a mandolin, a fiddle, and several more instruments on rotation. One of the harpists was <a href="http://www.cathy.com.au/">Cath Connelly</a> (only later would we realize she as a Connelly could be a distant relative of Ty’s mom’s family) from Australia, and was touring Ireland with most of the retirees we’d found singing, who were on a group Celtic Christian pilgrimage. They were a lively and emotional group – no doubt from spending all their days pondering the deep spiritual life in these stunning places. I think they needed to decompress after all that reflection – there was a lot of giggling and girly cocktails around. </div>
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We ended up in a corner booth with some of them and had a great philosophical discussion with Libbey from Melbourne, who discussed the differences in Anglican/Evangelical/Catholic perspective and practice with us, and encouraged us to listen for God’s speaking on our trip. We are instructed to email her what we’ve heard once we are back. All this while listening to amazing music and drinking whisky and beer in a tiny pub in a tiny town on the west coast of Ireland. </div>
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Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-71206255395432597252016-01-19T22:26:00.003-08:002016-01-30T09:47:28.415-08:009/22 – The Cliffs of Moher, County Clare<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/22 – The Cliffs of
Moher, County Clare<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212386725434276945&authkey=Gv1sRgCIvjzK61gLitcw&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Our lodging here (<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g214506-d1053791-Reviews-Glasha_Meadows-Doolin_The_Burren_County_Clare.html">Glasha
Meadows B&B</a>) was pleasant – a bit spare on the cuteness but clean and
comforting. Our lodge was set a bit out in the country, surrounded by sheep and
cattle and horses, stone walls and modest houses (new and old). In Ireland,
even the oldest and most economical housing is clean, well kept, and charming.
It’s really quite a blast on our version of poverty – nothing is disheveled or
forsaken, even in the quite poor areas. Of course this is in the countryside –
the city has a different kind of poverty of course. But our local ranchettes
(which are by no means poor, in Yolo County) have much to learn about keeping a
house and barn tidy from the Irish! This was also our first taste of Irish
breakfast – that enormous meal that sticks to your ribs. We also had great
Irish brown bread here – I toasted mine like beer bread (not sure if that’s
allowed) and it was heavenly. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSaaA1pDZJgwi52vDgq25hREJilRUjbfValayTDQnzfVFGhNKhNma0GKVbmYUH_JmkWijw1fsgFWM38x4Do2ly4pVOI2SsX7V_1vb5IyWmfTOItNClN7S1qWKip5_S9NabOG0eAo324o/s1600/2015-09-22+09.13.52.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSaaA1pDZJgwi52vDgq25hREJilRUjbfValayTDQnzfVFGhNKhNma0GKVbmYUH_JmkWijw1fsgFWM38x4Do2ly4pVOI2SsX7V_1vb5IyWmfTOItNClN7S1qWKip5_S9NabOG0eAo324o/s400/2015-09-22+09.13.52.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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It had rained fairly heavily recently in Doolin, and we were
advised multiple times not to try to walk to the Cliffs of Moher. This was a
favorite memory from my first trip to Ireland, and I was sad to give up
repeating it. In the end, we drove to the Cliffs and decided we could hike
around the top instead – which was equally lovely and meaningful. <a href="http://www.cliffsofmoher.ie/">The Cliffs</a> have been developed for
tourism and I had read about some mixed feelings on this before the trip. You
now had to pay to park (admission free – but no street parking and parking
costs money….), but you also got bathrooms and an interpretive center for free
– so it seemed reasonable. I wanted to dislike all this tourism-development,
but it seemed the area was more protected for having walkways and services, and
the interpretive center was really educational. </div>
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The Cliffs are really more of a headland, with several
bluffs extending out one after the other. The top is very flat and exposed, and
the cliffs themselves drop almost perfectly vertically hundreds of feet into
the crashing waves. These dramatc cliffs might look familiar – they have been
in several movies,mostly famously as the <a href="http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/princessbride/images/9/93/Westley_on_cliff.png/revision/latest?cb=20110320033105">Cliffs
of Insanity</a> in Princess Bride. Seabirds, including puffins (seasonal guests
– we didn’t see any) make precarious nests in the rocks of the cliffs. Diverse
marine life swims beneath the surface. The sky is large, the ocean is large,
and the people seem very, very small. It’s stunning and magical. And we came on
a day with GREAT weather!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqqoD2enXPsgPP5d0X2UYeNgvFH3R2Zb3E8NXFTw2BDfQUZ6kT5jgw9gYiXpv-2iQJ704WgqjfjXzmdjLWNN2zhVsE89WZOqcHEdtuaL_Y-6YoSBqefo-cRtbBgMEAvJX068uagOvrbQ/s1600/2015-09-22+11.19.07.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqqoD2enXPsgPP5d0X2UYeNgvFH3R2Zb3E8NXFTw2BDfQUZ6kT5jgw9gYiXpv-2iQJ704WgqjfjXzmdjLWNN2zhVsE89WZOqcHEdtuaL_Y-6YoSBqefo-cRtbBgMEAvJX068uagOvrbQ/s400/2015-09-22+11.19.07.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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We walked around the tourist end and saw <a href="http://www.cliffsofmoher.ie/about-the-cliffs/obriens-tower/">O’Brien’s
Tower</a> (a tourist spot dating back to the 1835), which is at the end of the
cliffs nearest to Doolin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
place was filling in quickly with tourists and buses, so we took a nice long
but flat hike out to the far tower, which used to be a guard tower. The walkway
is lined with local stone slabs, which have fossilized sea creature trails all
over them. Even the walkways are magical in Ireland! We found a few spots
sheltered from the wind with abundant local fauna: butterflies, spiders,
wildflowers, and scaly lizards soaking up the sun. To our left, the lush green
plateau spread out and gently downhill and adorable furry cows were everywhere.
To our right, the dramatic cliffs and the sea, looking back to Novia Scotia. </div>
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<o:p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNoHcc6fX_PjHOpchYOOGnTGRYEVd5iwtjCKG_NMJizWCpLBo-iSlNhDLhSPdvwBeSLAvsaFkBKjnTERj5mEOcnYrWDuxRmZwBkHvqlpSVLl_hwP6B42-JpURT4Ca-q2Pr0nqIyAGfRk/s1600/2015-09-22+11.59.27.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNoHcc6fX_PjHOpchYOOGnTGRYEVd5iwtjCKG_NMJizWCpLBo-iSlNhDLhSPdvwBeSLAvsaFkBKjnTERj5mEOcnYrWDuxRmZwBkHvqlpSVLl_hwP6B42-JpURT4Ca-q2Pr0nqIyAGfRk/s640/2015-09-22+11.59.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></o:p></div>
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I’m not sure we would have ever gotten our fill of this
place, but it was getting windy and we were getting hungry, so we headed back.
I reluctantly went into the tourist center to use the rest room and got sucked
in for another hour or so (thus missing the eating-window yet again). They had
a fantastic interactive movie, something similar to Imax but on a smaller
scale, that was digitally created to give you the feel of being a sea bird who
dove off the cliffs, through the swirling nest birds and into the water
below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a fantastic way to
think about the space, and to learn about the various “levels” of wildlife and
all of the interactions we can only get glimpses of from up above. </div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdo6g-qtsGipOx_iLPrfEV3f8IiIkoGkdMy8es4T_TLCZVtyXEmLPVcIG2EkZ4phF5Uf_2N5N4_hBcXHolXN_s25qJOuNgnDGbb6d8M5IRqlxQgcCRv9TDVrTfXmLzrtkdi1IcunBlLg/s1600/2015-09-22+13.15.51.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdo6g-qtsGipOx_iLPrfEV3f8IiIkoGkdMy8es4T_TLCZVtyXEmLPVcIG2EkZ4phF5Uf_2N5N4_hBcXHolXN_s25qJOuNgnDGbb6d8M5IRqlxQgcCRv9TDVrTfXmLzrtkdi1IcunBlLg/s640/2015-09-22+13.15.51.jpg" width="640" /></a> </o:p></div>
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In the late afternoon, we headed back to Doolin. We dropped
off our laundry and found one café still open – where we had the best food of
our Irish trip, in my opinion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g214506-d8114428-Reviews-Sea_Salt-Doolin_The_Burren_County_Clare.html">Sea
Salt Café</a> was also charming and adorable, inside and out. And did I
mention, open? Just closing really, but willing to accommodate us. We had a
steak and onion sandwich and a lamb burger and devoured both (not to mention
the appetizer and lavender meringue dessert). All of this extra eating turned
our late-lunch into lunch/dinner, which was just as well. Nothing else was
going to taste good after that meal!</div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWza3E-C2k9JD6XFvPwdhlkbf5KjEXABgHsHfLv11_Vc2SRlKpxTzW01664Sbh8iUat_DxbEXrE1SuVb0diF1jq7ui2Sme3fhJO-ftSlGgAntAdcKN5-cR4sU7k0KoiZzqKq3ttegc-1U/s1600/2015-09-22+17.37.56.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWza3E-C2k9JD6XFvPwdhlkbf5KjEXABgHsHfLv11_Vc2SRlKpxTzW01664Sbh8iUat_DxbEXrE1SuVb0diF1jq7ui2Sme3fhJO-ftSlGgAntAdcKN5-cR4sU7k0KoiZzqKq3ttegc-1U/s400/2015-09-22+17.37.56.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We wandered down to the sea shore again, this time to the
actual harbor. The sun was setting through another round of storm clouds in
what felt like typical dramatic fashion, as the sea swirled around us and cows
lowed right next to the crashing waves. There is a staircase built into the
jetty, labeled for surfers and not tourists, which I found mesmerizing. I tried
to imagine donning a wetsuit and walking down these steps right into the
crashing sea – it seems like the bravest start to a set I can think of, short
of big wave riding. I read later that there are also sea caves here that you
can get to only by scuba diving from this area into narrow rock channels.
Tidbits like these keep me from feeling too brave!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ty also spotted a dead dolphin that had washed up on to the
rocks. It was too wet and slippery to walk out to it but we nerded out on
seeing even a dead dolphin – and not a Pacific bottlenose like we are used to.
We took photos but won’t share them here to spare you. He was not, ahem,
freshly dead. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRsK3Eb3n6MFWMa8SRuG_Hox6dRDMKGbcxGRQ5QHFrz1FmnXbQxTTLt40FEI5oBNfr79WyUv41cIEnXwVkIa-h74CL53i__7g46woc4ewpC_r0Zy0q6UOmwVGFpwj0IGoH-2czw50EaQ/s1600/2015-09-22+19.32.29.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRsK3Eb3n6MFWMa8SRuG_Hox6dRDMKGbcxGRQ5QHFrz1FmnXbQxTTLt40FEI5oBNfr79WyUv41cIEnXwVkIa-h74CL53i__7g46woc4ewpC_r0Zy0q6UOmwVGFpwj0IGoH-2czw50EaQ/s400/2015-09-22+19.32.29.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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On our way back up the hill towards food and music, I
convinced Ty to stop at this lovely modern tourist shop just up from the old
down and just down from the turn to the cliffs. Smartly situated and smartly
designed, if plainly named (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/IrishCraftOutlet/info/?tab=overview">Irish
Crafts</a> in Doolin) the shop has modern Irish gifts and local crafts – or
what they call cultural gifts. We fell into a good conversation with the owner,
whose husband is an engineer and designed the building. They are attempting to
be a link in the local tourism and craft development chain here, and talking with
her was fascinating. Even though their items were mostly out of our
souvenir/gift price point (a budgeting mistake on our part), it was lovely to
see something other than cartooney sheep with googley eyes on plastic bits made
in China. We splurged on a wool blanket as our anniversary memento to ourselves
and are saving it until Christmas to open up as a reminder of our great trip.
The shop owner was also a wealth of knowledge about the area, and gave us some
tips for visiting the Burren. We had thought we’d skip this tour, thinking it
was for old ladies – but based on her stories, we decided to spend the next day
checking it out. It was a great day for us and I’m grateful to her for taking
so much time to help us create an itinerary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-24384565200909562902016-01-19T22:26:00.002-08:002016-01-30T09:47:39.741-08:009/23 – The Burren, County Clare<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/23 – The Burren,
County Clare<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6212386725434276945&authkey=Gv1sRgCIvjzK61gLitcw&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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On Wednesday, we took an epic tour of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Burren">the Burren</a>. This is both a
geologic/ecological region and a cultural/geographical region. The Burren is a
limestone area upon which unique things grow. This region has joined the Slow
Food movement and is capitalizing on their unique place, craftspeople, and
identity. They are interconnected to one another, passing along tips on where
to go to tourists, using each other’s products, and generally promoting the
local sites and people in an interconnected way. I was very inspired that
Sacramento, Yolo, and Solano counties could do something similar!</div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QFZHiMnIuHs_fZ0KlgZbuyGv9RoUPrMjMftJHCvJFuOfgx0PZJy7P7Dv0yWZoXXAj3xIUGF1nuiKUnam7vYlQrnSj74u1KPtziQxB8iQlsSmMsu_BWvz8X3a53qkgB3bEsWTFr960wQ/s1600/DSC_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QFZHiMnIuHs_fZ0KlgZbuyGv9RoUPrMjMftJHCvJFuOfgx0PZJy7P7Dv0yWZoXXAj3xIUGF1nuiKUnam7vYlQrnSj74u1KPtziQxB8iQlsSmMsu_BWvz8X3a53qkgB3bEsWTFr960wQ/s640/DSC_0050.JPG" width="426" /></a> <img height="16" id="o8bvuyb6xfeg" src="data:image/gif;base64,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" width="16" /></o:p></div>
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We visited a <a href="https://www.burrensmokehouse.com/">salmon
smokehouse</a>, where we got to see one of three smoking ovens in the world
that can both cold and hot smoke. This is because an Irishman married a
Norwegian, and neither wanted to give up their version of smoking salmon. The
salmon was so good, we bought a ton of it to be shipped back to our house. We
drove through darling Lisdoonvarna, and I would consider staying there next
time, and visiting Doolin and the cliffs as a day trip. Lisdoonvarna is a bit
bigger but still charming, and seems to have more amenities than tiny Doolin. </div>
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Next up was a swing through the Aillwee Cave and <a href="http://www.aillweecave.ie/birds-of-prey">Birds of Prey Center</a>. We did
not need to pay money to go in a cave (this seems to be a big thing in Ireland)
but we were happy to part with Euro’s too see raptors!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We learned all sorts of facts about new
species via audio guide through the cages, and watched part of a flying
demonstration. There are only a few Irish raptor species, including a few we
also have in the US. There were plenty of rescued Harris hawks – likely because
falconry is a big deal still, and Harris hawks are commonly used for the
sport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We saw several owl species,
a couple of giant eagles and vultures, and the charismatic <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bateleur">Bateleur eagle</a>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1IcuT3dmxc9hsDBYwW83dPEc5Wp8KrQmqFOl2eXgAUpUvz8fbU7lhByEHdt4A69ocx5LGyatc2bHRje1oFdDIlgyNy3bIVotOgXqykoT98-m-Y_awjRHuq0ca8DXwK6lDYpGRtLJUyo/s1600/DSC_0279.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1IcuT3dmxc9hsDBYwW83dPEc5Wp8KrQmqFOl2eXgAUpUvz8fbU7lhByEHdt4A69ocx5LGyatc2bHRje1oFdDIlgyNy3bIVotOgXqykoT98-m-Y_awjRHuq0ca8DXwK6lDYpGRtLJUyo/s400/DSC_0279.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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One of the
keepers let us get close to a rescued local hawk who was close to being
re-released. As a non-permanent resident, he wanted her put away before the
tour bus crowds showed up, since she was meant to return to the wild and should
not get used to humans, but he stopped to show us her dramatic tail feathers
and how her features were adapted for her particular flight and hunting
patterns. We grabbed a snack at the gift shop while also sneaking a peak at how
the local <a href="http://www.aillweecave.ie/cheese-sales">Ailwee Burren Gold
cheese</a> was made – it was amazing to see the giant vats of milk and cream
being stirred, and the almost-as-large wheels of cheese aging! Our snack
sounded great: a local Ailwee cheese bap sandwich. Turns out, a bap is a type
of roll, and referred to the bun the cheese came on. It was slathered with
ketchup – so it was a bit like a hamburger minus all the interesting parts!
Just bread, cheese, and ketchup. Not bad, but not very interesting!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hPDbgS4Y5tSE7K36lMjz6JHe4c2T8C9eMH0DuAk1cFU7PElgWn4Nb88kjuZ5JOsFScunk2dOmZn6UxgYTj41nNEM7PBQsRWnu0rkuHmeLqrh2RoA4RJAmQe3Csm8rQDw79CoVrVwzG0/s1600/DSC_0272.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hPDbgS4Y5tSE7K36lMjz6JHe4c2T8C9eMH0DuAk1cFU7PElgWn4Nb88kjuZ5JOsFScunk2dOmZn6UxgYTj41nNEM7PBQsRWnu0rkuHmeLqrh2RoA4RJAmQe3Csm8rQDw79CoVrVwzG0/s400/DSC_0272.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We headed out into the country and watched a <a href="http://caherconnell.com/">sheepherding demonstration</a> next to the
Caherconnel Paleolithic tomb. The shepherd used both whistles and voice
commands to direct two dogs to manage the herd of sheep through the landscape
below us. We learned about cattle dogs vs sheepdogs (not breed based but based
on if they are starers or nippers!), the life and training of the dogs (now
shared communally between farmers), and different kinds of sheep. Only 10-15
farms in all of Ireland produce the wool Ireland is famous for – most of the
sheep are for meat and have useless wool from a cloth perspective! They are
trying to find ways to upcycle all of the meat wool – <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wool_insulation">insulation</a> seems to be
a promising option. </div>
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<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMsh1U5mbz4PmNtbvdQhUGzKafpPTgs1OSJjPjFQllpeDwPShD8NJ2L1Jb2MQXN35Dg4qUpsZS4x2J2gHMUwgIeebNVyCJz7leqeObf7HY4E16a0d7H36jEs1wfHKiKYz51V3OqUud8Y/s1600/DSC_0181.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMsh1U5mbz4PmNtbvdQhUGzKafpPTgs1OSJjPjFQllpeDwPShD8NJ2L1Jb2MQXN35Dg4qUpsZS4x2J2gHMUwgIeebNVyCJz7leqeObf7HY4E16a0d7H36jEs1wfHKiKYz51V3OqUud8Y/s400/DSC_0181.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cUNIQnvXNrWayZz4vZnm0y2lzTvUBTBD3WglR6z-XhyphenhyphenLSZSGISaEQo66s8eNZDGHWG_Znc0f91y5jFc7ezGLM7NHLOJ8yiWQIvBQPTfq1evcqPPtGD7VbAnIFwxiF-FyvP7QkbycbeU/s1600/DSC_0161.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cUNIQnvXNrWayZz4vZnm0y2lzTvUBTBD3WglR6z-XhyphenhyphenLSZSGISaEQo66s8eNZDGHWG_Znc0f91y5jFc7ezGLM7NHLOJ8yiWQIvBQPTfq1evcqPPtGD7VbAnIFwxiF-FyvP7QkbycbeU/s400/DSC_0161.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqUn4IuVmrsgq6v4K0pP3wVk2zEMHNSl8mOrGKlr_sEaD19kzcdzRISQ5hPhcwjEyEbei08WgCljTAveG-Djwg7tB-qoLnk_Ei7t5KlbPhPBiHzDAXghk9lNFZEPqnhQ8B5ct-bAZOfE/s1600/DSC_0160.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqUn4IuVmrsgq6v4K0pP3wVk2zEMHNSl8mOrGKlr_sEaD19kzcdzRISQ5hPhcwjEyEbei08WgCljTAveG-Djwg7tB-qoLnk_Ei7t5KlbPhPBiHzDAXghk9lNFZEPqnhQ8B5ct-bAZOfE/s400/DSC_0160.JPG" width="400" /></a> </o:p></div>
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We skipped the Caherconnel Fort since there was an entrance
fee (and we could see the bulk of it from outside anyhow), but stopped at the
free one down the road (<a href="http://irisharchaeology.ie/2013/06/poulnabrone-tomb-life-and-death-in-the-burren/">Poulanbrone
Portal Tomb</a>) which I thought was more impressive anyhow. We got to walk
right up to this stone entrance to a grave dating back 5,000 years. It was out
in the open in this Burren limestone landscape, and seemed respected there
despite being available to busloads of tourists. It was remarkably un-developed
and refreshing. There were a few simple explanatory signs and one silly
druid-costumed man selling crystals in the parking lot, but otherwise not
overdone or exploited as some of these sights seem to be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkroyZWLtQbD7vES4Tybtl5YA_VUenwI08DhT_XLDsycU6DpNYnhyeuFaNWkZBjtrQDPh5P5tXxRgRoInrBkbaCeYDXQwXQEHWufqyv29NJCv2oKqr7Ij0MgJ3_glQLfxEJ4sGA8Y9zU/s1600/2015-09-23+12.40.46.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkroyZWLtQbD7vES4Tybtl5YA_VUenwI08DhT_XLDsycU6DpNYnhyeuFaNWkZBjtrQDPh5P5tXxRgRoInrBkbaCeYDXQwXQEHWufqyv29NJCv2oKqr7Ij0MgJ3_glQLfxEJ4sGA8Y9zU/s640/2015-09-23+12.40.46.jpg" width="480" /></a> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXsFSo4bHxHsXbWCY86dM2GKkBSDyDbU_gpzNs3qshC_hvDPtRkE_0xPrj-mWQkWvdHBMrIDVv6FcY_Hh_OeVTZlAjj1MZ-ORNHm5_vo45AQIKRlCNEu8PQtHTaGDmC_pmAv3m9C-Lp6E/s1600/2015-09-23+12.41.38.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXsFSo4bHxHsXbWCY86dM2GKkBSDyDbU_gpzNs3qshC_hvDPtRkE_0xPrj-mWQkWvdHBMrIDVv6FcY_Hh_OeVTZlAjj1MZ-ORNHm5_vo45AQIKRlCNEu8PQtHTaGDmC_pmAv3m9C-Lp6E/s400/2015-09-23+12.41.38.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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We found another ruined church on the side of the road, out
in the country in the tiny “town” of Carran. This one was tiny, just a half
room with pointed roof and gargoyle like stone heads. The local saint (read:
priest) was buried in the yard, in a disheleved tomb next to the tiny church.
There was no one there, and just a simple sign telling us the history of this
place. I appreciated both the simple sign and that there was little else. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucd8qOE8dZmnDaQl3qoauE3zac1z4NRbypUxjyrWPvCCbBXPbP67cAGk5KtcbLqQyACBiP0u7S0HTcXtb81QLgFHuGmCstb32e6zkS1dg56kX0KXMzPxq9mlsem5inJsBfU8zL3TPDsw/s1600/2015-09-23+14.49.21.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucd8qOE8dZmnDaQl3qoauE3zac1z4NRbypUxjyrWPvCCbBXPbP67cAGk5KtcbLqQyACBiP0u7S0HTcXtb81QLgFHuGmCstb32e6zkS1dg56kX0KXMzPxq9mlsem5inJsBfU8zL3TPDsw/s400/2015-09-23+14.49.21.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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After driving down narrow country lanes and worrying about
how to pass any cars we might see, we stopped for lunch at the adorable <a href="http://www.burrenperfumery.com/">Burren Perfumery</a>. The food was great,
the café cheerful. We watched a beautiful video about the special wildlife in
this area, and wandered through their garden, which was a walking tour of
different plants and herbs used for medicine, cooking, and perfume. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BxZquGYyzHU-mugcKp3Q9GVC1UHHX34wbl35lb4wr_fB3dklkgJw5jtUg1wEc_LgbxR3kd-GFEMwl3QHMtDvTJ2GdrFFbZ8TUu5UNvrcW6zUfLtRba7zfJc6H1s0yAcS6b-NFvMS_Eg/s1600/2015-09-23+14.26.32.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BxZquGYyzHU-mugcKp3Q9GVC1UHHX34wbl35lb4wr_fB3dklkgJw5jtUg1wEc_LgbxR3kd-GFEMwl3QHMtDvTJ2GdrFFbZ8TUu5UNvrcW6zUfLtRba7zfJc6H1s0yAcS6b-NFvMS_Eg/s400/2015-09-23+14.26.32.jpg" width="400" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhuQ3EggGR4kn6A7RgQnlTeUnNtxBjTumDqUD68EXe3Rrho1fcwVd0nKk3eWqXOuVTxQs5XhbLaatz8JOE40st6s5KnSf-M3zYqACqTiJlaVLpfXYtkiu2gYmLhMhAECvAsyhouiHD1g/s1600/2015-09-23+13.21.53.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhuQ3EggGR4kn6A7RgQnlTeUnNtxBjTumDqUD68EXe3Rrho1fcwVd0nKk3eWqXOuVTxQs5XhbLaatz8JOE40st6s5KnSf-M3zYqACqTiJlaVLpfXYtkiu2gYmLhMhAECvAsyhouiHD1g/s400/2015-09-23+13.21.53.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Another
abbey stop – this one giant <a href="http://www.clarelibrary.ie/eolas/coclare/places/the_burren/corcomroe_abbey.htm">Corcomroe
Abbey</a> and with an active cemetery – was next. We walked over graves (still
felt wrong), found someone buried in the walls (turns out it was an <a href="http://www.clarelibrary.ie/eolas/coclare/places/the_burren/corcomroe_abbey.htm">Irish
Chieftan</a>), and noticed that modern graves have flowers growing over them –
a sweet tradition we should adopt instead of leaving cut flowers to wilt. One
of the oldest looking tombs, inside the roofless church, had a small plastic
flowerpot at its foot, which had been blown or kicked over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I set it upright and put the soil back
in around the flowers, and noticed a notecard in a ziplock bag. The flowers and
child’s note to her deceased grandmother were clearly recent, yet the tomb was
centuries old (likely around 1200AD). Not sure what to make of that. It was not
near any modern graves – those were all outside in the yard. Perhaps “grandma”
was a family lineage term (many of the oldest graves shared names with families
still living in this area), but how could a young girl write that she misses
someone who was buried hundreds of years before she was born? There’s clearly a
story there, but I don’t know what it is. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
It was now late afternoon, and we’d found ice cream not far
away on our map near New Quay. We drove out to a little spit of a peninsula on
the bay, and had an ice cream snack at <a href="http://www.linnallaicecream.ie/wp-content/gallery/ice-cream-parlour/ice-cream-parlour-1.jpg">Linnalla
Pure Irish Ice Cream</a>. Despite the grand name, the ice cream was pretty
normal – but the proprieter did tell us he used milk from his own cows and had
locals bring him berries to add in when they were in season from the
neighboring countryside. We drove around the little spit and stopped at L<a href="http://linnanesbar.com/">inane’s Lobster Bar</a> for lunch – again with
rugby and fireplace, which made for a good break. The folks weren’t friendly
but were interested in the game, so we didn’t watch alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were eating off the normal hours, so
had the place mostly to ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6XYhMKmT7kmF-3yM6tOkdy9AIvGv2XWbAEHWyMcjLPPJILxhx_i-6eWnmPP43SpAqrTb0AQmURPQ9ORDJuuGgcom_Vc6GGQDfWzEFDM9FSG_XWNz4R9SZx4h9xWh4Z7uG_-0UFTeVGY/s1600/2015-09-23+17.37.29.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6XYhMKmT7kmF-3yM6tOkdy9AIvGv2XWbAEHWyMcjLPPJILxhx_i-6eWnmPP43SpAqrTb0AQmURPQ9ORDJuuGgcom_Vc6GGQDfWzEFDM9FSG_XWNz4R9SZx4h9xWh4Z7uG_-0UFTeVGY/s400/2015-09-23+17.37.29.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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We made the coastal drive around the point back to Doolin as a storm was
rolling in. We had dramatic weather and scenery but not much rain, so it wasn’t
too hard to drive for Ty. We saw rugged ponies, horses, and fisherman ignoring
the weather and the waves. Wild Atlanic Way indeed. I felt wussy and glad for the <a href="http://www.englishteastore.com/crawfords-bourbon-cream-biscuits.html?utm_source=googlepepla&utm_medium=adwords&id=125754796578&gclid=CPi9iaOP4cgCFYZgfgoduE8HnA">bourbon
crème biscuits</a> and tea waiting for me back at our lodging. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGl0a3rqMZ7H_4Uyp3sHP7Z-xSVHqL1DKtxsMqvIRfD0kJbiLzfU2uLd2qN0nMPgkLRgTmIsFbD8q8jyI589Up7Cz1QxpOcuwHKw1YiK_cxclXXdrhgpmuE_FMq8rS1w2oLNPcjcanXA/s1600/2015-09-23+19.24.10.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGl0a3rqMZ7H_4Uyp3sHP7Z-xSVHqL1DKtxsMqvIRfD0kJbiLzfU2uLd2qN0nMPgkLRgTmIsFbD8q8jyI589Up7Cz1QxpOcuwHKw1YiK_cxclXXdrhgpmuE_FMq8rS1w2oLNPcjcanXA/s640/2015-09-23+19.24.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-10898415983176302452016-01-19T22:26:00.001-08:002016-01-30T09:48:35.199-08:009/24 - Galway, Cong and Clonbur<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/24 - Galway, Cong
and Clonbur<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219855382767876449&authkey=Gv1sRgCNSPxIqIp8uicA&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road trip leg 2 <a href="https://goo.gl/maps/KwrFq7y4KZ62">here</a>.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On Wednesday morning, we retraced some steps through County
Clare on our way north, stopped for lunch in Kinvarna, a cute port town, and
made our way up to Galway. We visited the old part of Galway, where the
cobblestone streets are closed to cars, making for a fun tourist district.
However it’s pretty run over with touristy shops which makes for a less
interesting experience. We also had modern-city and crowd-shock after being in
such a remote county! But we got good hipster pizza, and enjoyed a small but
informative museum about the salmon fishery on the River Corrib while watching
the tide and rain-swollen river rushing past the little tower museum. </div>
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We then walked back up the river to visit the <a href="http://www.galwaycathedral.ie/">Galway Cathedral</a>, which was most
interesting because it wasn’t built until 1965. I didn’t realize cathedrals
were still being built so late! It was a mix of architecture to provide both
the sense of tradition and grandeur, but updated references as well. The mosaic
of Jesus on the cross was distinctly modern, as well the vaulted wooden ceiling
and celiac-friendly communion station. The rose window was a stunning
five-petaled stained glass flower, and there was a modern etched glass mural at
the entrance. Yet the size, the expression of power and awe, the heavy stone
construction were all distinctly old-european cathedral. I was happy to have
some sort of cathedral time on our trip – in fact this was the only major
church (aside from ruins) that we visited. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We continued on to our lodging in Clonbur, just next to
Cong, in the “<a href="http://www.lakedistrict.ie/tourism/test-page-1.144.html">Lakes
District of Ireland</a>.” The countryside was lovely, the sun and clouds
poetic, and the pace more relaxed once we left the “big city” of Galway. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-1Ie7mRFqpfDwygz7PhTwl8PVLlCr1AEdZAOryImpCej4cfJHiiZL13FbigqV1_ws0AqAxmvFDtZpHDkmzOXDC-rZktQuRMUTc-693wny0D-zDjfKfHq5VWD5JaQxFKcW5yYGCN8p_U/s1600/DSC_0302.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-1Ie7mRFqpfDwygz7PhTwl8PVLlCr1AEdZAOryImpCej4cfJHiiZL13FbigqV1_ws0AqAxmvFDtZpHDkmzOXDC-rZktQuRMUTc-693wny0D-zDjfKfHq5VWD5JaQxFKcW5yYGCN8p_U/s640/DSC_0302.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We
arrived at dusk at what appeared to be a hunting lodge set on the edge of a
wood and lake. And pretty much, it was. Except instead of a hunting lodge, it
was our B&B (<a href="http://www.bandbireland.com/accommodation/26660/ballykine-house">Ballykine
House</a>) run by a local couple who had retired back to their hometown. Our
hostess was warm, informative, and fond of affectionate hand pats and
handholding. It was like visitng your favorite aunt. The house and expansive
grounders were beautiful, very traditional, and a joy to visit. </div>
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The towns of
Cong and Clonbur are small but charming. We walked through Clonbur’s one street
downtown and into the residential neighborhood, which reminded me somewhat of
the east coast of the US. We watched rugby in the local pub and slept in a
great room, waking up to sunrise over the nearby lake. We ate an enormous
home-cooked breakfast in her formal dining room and enjoyed chatting with her
about our plans and a bit about her life here. </div>
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Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-65056092602547504852016-01-19T22:26:00.000-08:002016-01-30T09:49:00.302-08:009/25 – Connemara<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/25 – Connemara<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219855382767876449&authkey=Gv1sRgCNSPxIqIp8uicA&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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At our hostess’s urging, we took a day trip through <a href="http://www.connemara.net/">Connemara</a>, an enormous region and national
park. The photos do not do this justice, and I’d written it off as a bunch of
brown hills during my research (those Irish must not have much to get excited
about, I thought…) It was as beautiful as the Cliffs of Moher, and somehow more
stunning. The scale of it can’t be captured. It is wild, free, majestic. There
were iconic sheep on the roads, and stunning views. I want to be
buried/scattered here when I die. The roads were twisty and I was pretty sick,
but it was worth it. We had a lackluster meal in a crowded port town at the far
end of the loop, but it was worth it. There was something so different there –
I can’t put it into words, but it was magical. And it wasn’t even green, not
really.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We learned all about peat uses and <a href="http://www.wesleyjohnston.com/users/ireland/geography/bogs.html">bog
formation</a>, the ecosystem there (as unique as the Burren, but more
threatened), and how much a part of Irish life <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=peat&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAWoVChMIwJzr29TmyAIVDNhjCh1YNApW&biw=1328&bih=833#tbm=isch&q=burning+peat">peat</a>
has been in a small but helpful information center. Then we hiked Mt Diamond ,which
felt epic (okay, the Irish call it <a href="http://www.discoverireland.ie/Activities-Adventure/diamond-hill-loop-walk/62332">Diamond
Hill</a>. And they call hiking “walking.” I refuse to participate – we hiked up
a mountain). It was blustery and tall, but had a well maintained and graded
trail. We shouldn’t really get the points we gave ourselves. But the scenery
was epic and the weather was ominous so we felt accomplished. And then four
college girls from France came trooping up behind us in tiny shorts! We may not
have been as tough as we thought. They did seem really shivery though. The hike
back down was also stunning – wrapping around the backside of the peak (hills
don’t have peaks!) with fewer expansive views but acres and acres of blooming heather
growing on the peat. It was a unique hike in a special place – words are
failing me. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0wl73BQgG9hOPwiJO4g_zfOyfWS8b_kxK-d5Fn_vRYVjyDcPQr21ghZUXcXiHtx7o1OBhm6rdGqVx3HkLjU6wifVG7UAs4mWJoNkj9bdM7zKYAJ0t4htJ-TNnRNLSixvFOiNzsZHnDc/s1600/2015-09-25+13.17.20.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0wl73BQgG9hOPwiJO4g_zfOyfWS8b_kxK-d5Fn_vRYVjyDcPQr21ghZUXcXiHtx7o1OBhm6rdGqVx3HkLjU6wifVG7UAs4mWJoNkj9bdM7zKYAJ0t4htJ-TNnRNLSixvFOiNzsZHnDc/s640/2015-09-25+13.17.20.jpg" width="640" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivFNistB159qD6azSKcQIfehqp0CD0pcruM3YbvUUFjlYMJ2dHONSvT2QJwy9q4x_B8mU3P6f25yS5Terw7oW0zs7VZRoUpFafViG3diHVPOft2jBM-ZpldOvgAfJ9-o-ToFVX4p-aTmo/s1600/2015-09-25+13.47.23.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivFNistB159qD6azSKcQIfehqp0CD0pcruM3YbvUUFjlYMJ2dHONSvT2QJwy9q4x_B8mU3P6f25yS5Terw7oW0zs7VZRoUpFafViG3diHVPOft2jBM-ZpldOvgAfJ9-o-ToFVX4p-aTmo/s640/2015-09-25+13.47.23.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We got back to Cong at dusk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.congtourism.com/">Cong</a> is a
ridiculously darling town next to our B&B, which is built on an island in
the river (contributing to a good chunk of its darling factor) and most famous
for being a major film site for The Quiet Man in the 1950’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a very Irish thing that if
someone comes from your town (good or bad), or something well known happens in
your town (good or bad), it will become the center of your town’s identity for
the rest of eternity, regardless of how old or interesting your town actually
is. [Thus, the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g211865-d4738827-Reviews-Rory_Gallagher_Statue-Ballyshannon_County_Donegal.html">statue</a>
of rockstar Rory Gallagher is the number one attraction in Ballyshannon].
Everywhere we went, when we reviewed our stops, people would say “Oh Cong, <a href="http://www.quietman-cong.com/">where they filmed The Quiet Man</a>.” Cong
is a tiny town with a giant castle, world-class fishing, and adorable scenery,
but everyone knows it for the movie. Also, if you tell an Irish man you’ve been
to Cong, he will say, “Oh, where they filmed The Quiet Man. John Wayne you
know”…and then a heavy pause and a breathy “and Maureen O’Hara…” and another
long pause. Even young men! I believe she is the token Irish Beauty for all
eternity. [We watched The Quiet Man once we got back. It helps to have an
online guide to all the cultural references lost on us Americans, but it’s a
sweet yet shockingly politically incorrect tale that is probably only worth
watching if you’ve just been to Cong. And yes, Maureen O’Hara was stunning.]</div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZk-9Ie3qlCHc-b2PA7gzDE0jTSptfgdzWyphckverv1OkVX_Xg4bf_XL9D5ihYmLslbmfA2r4otfQP6SPa3y9cIUlQd0GVcEebc1_jFazqdfh76ObBW8vMn7MbukvWV-7LyJ9CVvAlcE/s1600/DSC_0380.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZk-9Ie3qlCHc-b2PA7gzDE0jTSptfgdzWyphckverv1OkVX_Xg4bf_XL9D5ihYmLslbmfA2r4otfQP6SPa3y9cIUlQd0GVcEebc1_jFazqdfh76ObBW8vMn7MbukvWV-7LyJ9CVvAlcE/s400/DSC_0380.JPG" width="400" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4TNYsHAyU10JP04IgYwVqxtHQo1fZpfjX4dr6Gw2wY0VstNvwV8hHJXvsHUQQpKg0kt5q-ELoapCffOW1DXbSo9R-XvqCe6xgJOx4pA7aBPP7wRWE0jfJ_kYY9XDMfgafJs6c5jSTJw/s1600/DSC_0384.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4TNYsHAyU10JP04IgYwVqxtHQo1fZpfjX4dr6Gw2wY0VstNvwV8hHJXvsHUQQpKg0kt5q-ELoapCffOW1DXbSo9R-XvqCe6xgJOx4pA7aBPP7wRWE0jfJ_kYY9XDMfgafJs6c5jSTJw/s400/DSC_0384.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We meandered through the ruins of the abbey there, super
spooky in the evening light. Our hostess told us how to walk through the public
trails to the Guinness family’s <a href="http://www.ashfordcastle.com/">Ashford
Castle</a> (actually a former hunting lodge turned into a hotel, but still stunning
to see), across the river from town and usually a 10euro entrance fee to even
see. We were racing darkness but enjoying the thrill of wandering through dark
(but totally safe) woods and over bridges above the coursing river. We saw
swans and fish leaping in the fading light, and then wandered through the
little quiet town before driving back to our lodge. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy8scHXf5d0oRI-sH6-JWFwzmkdmLZo6SjiibghsPC9hVSmy_rIfzAuvOrr_3JCnJzjP4tIwYHlw1W0NBcJEzVIRPlZqcauZTTAc7qo9EAfS8XX9ESQO0fnftu5AA3qQ34uOVB1NNGxw/s1600/2015-09-25+19.22.28.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy8scHXf5d0oRI-sH6-JWFwzmkdmLZo6SjiibghsPC9hVSmy_rIfzAuvOrr_3JCnJzjP4tIwYHlw1W0NBcJEzVIRPlZqcauZTTAc7qo9EAfS8XX9ESQO0fnftu5AA3qQ34uOVB1NNGxw/s400/2015-09-25+19.22.28.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5jUUHUHOkJtJeAu4R3cweEXBRHqLseu6425ayhtL1V-OGW7sbY_U6x5DTku4yvcC7Wl8z9i6vN_6HWx1bzFXhUw1gUfdJ9cw11olZvAzWGzVg5K2CpIu-Myfape0xnZqbnZLD6yH59s/s1600/DSC_0391.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5jUUHUHOkJtJeAu4R3cweEXBRHqLseu6425ayhtL1V-OGW7sbY_U6x5DTku4yvcC7Wl8z9i6vN_6HWx1bzFXhUw1gUfdJ9cw11olZvAzWGzVg5K2CpIu-Myfape0xnZqbnZLD6yH59s/s640/DSC_0391.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the country road between
the two little towns, we came upon an enormous bonfire, which turned out to be
in someone’s backyard. It drew the attention of folks driving by (all 2 of
them) so we stopped to try to figure out what was going on. It was at least 3
stories tall, in the small clearing for the house between the trees. How it
didn’t set anything else on fire, and what its purpose was, was a mystery. Our
hostess said such a thing happens for holidays but not usually on a weeknight!
She guessed it was a birthday celebration. We didn’t see any partying going on,
just a few people watching from the side. Our phone photos and video also show
some mysterious floating shapes moving around in the bonfire….mysterious!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidu-AKYhztskNqgQbe4VPXmyBgCmSdDYAYAFHue04Zy1u_umhY5POpwMNTXfXnWjZAJ7bWZYVcGpVGNn3NSPe_WPVtAHOG5TVdZmkXeirjxJS6-nLBF8Iw4MoBpiznuma40zGCqIGw8cM/s1600/2015-09-25+20.12.14.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidu-AKYhztskNqgQbe4VPXmyBgCmSdDYAYAFHue04Zy1u_umhY5POpwMNTXfXnWjZAJ7bWZYVcGpVGNn3NSPe_WPVtAHOG5TVdZmkXeirjxJS6-nLBF8Iw4MoBpiznuma40zGCqIGw8cM/s400/2015-09-25+20.12.14.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-57595493625609191192016-01-19T22:25:00.008-08:002016-01-30T09:49:38.361-08:009/26 – Ballyshannon, Enniskillen, and Slieve League<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/26 –</b> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ballyshannon, Enniskillen, and Slieve
League<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219867409866740065&authkey=Gv1sRgCMOL3uyomIH_UA&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road trip leg 3 <a href="https://goo.gl/maps/prJLHw4v1bD2">here.</a> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning we had a good couple of hours of driving
ahead, but wanted to get outside once more and squeeze the last bit of
loveliness out of this little place. I wish we’d stayed longer – but I could
say that about all of our stops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After yet another superb and filling breakfast, we decided to take a
walk on the path behind our lodge’s property, through the local woods. It was a
nice change of pace to be in trees instead of on sea cliffs. There are really not very many trees in Ireland - and certainly very few forests. We saw more around Cong and Clonbur than perhaps the rest of the trip combined. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC86TtJjf6lk4t8WtK3BoxZY6Mg1746Fn5aKV2zOVnnUTfhznzJ4_m6ALgas_Q3DNow1xN-vRW5HnR__b8MP4gN6EJ40Rt7S_Kugjx5y8KQG7huLri6vfcO4fPSsT_06qhyphenhyphenvG6h1uiE04/s1600/DSC_0423.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC86TtJjf6lk4t8WtK3BoxZY6Mg1746Fn5aKV2zOVnnUTfhznzJ4_m6ALgas_Q3DNow1xN-vRW5HnR__b8MP4gN6EJ40Rt7S_Kugjx5y8KQG7huLri6vfcO4fPSsT_06qhyphenhyphenvG6h1uiE04/s640/DSC_0423.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The path was easy and beautiful and quiet. We found blackberries, but they had no flavor or sweetness – nothing like ours. We turned a corner and found a completely unkept
castle ruin, which the trees had grown up around and engulfed. We hopped the
fence and wandered around – and Ty even let me go inside, and then joined me!
Travel changes you, beware. The ruins were a treat – no people, no signs, no
development. Just the remains of someone’s safekeeping fortress in themiddle of
the woods. I imagine the trees filled in after the people left, and were
working their way inside and up through the former roof. It was spooky to be inside
even though it was bright- there was one side room that was completely dark and
we couldn’t bring ourselves to even look in, let alone walk near it! It was
small but a treasure to have to ourselves. There is something about nature
taking back what man has built that is always profound and beautiful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNzY-zXjzM90tK_n-DE2dMtzawIqB8rYvSWJgmjDwwwv7Zr1dEkie18EgaJ8TKoGQ9gBzvxrdsx950RxPnCKCzdFtnygXWvWz_7-5shBzz_D4mt7aGujvAFDKb367PCnHPb4nGCEDZAU/s1600/DSC_0440.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNzY-zXjzM90tK_n-DE2dMtzawIqB8rYvSWJgmjDwwwv7Zr1dEkie18EgaJ8TKoGQ9gBzvxrdsx950RxPnCKCzdFtnygXWvWz_7-5shBzz_D4mt7aGujvAFDKb367PCnHPb4nGCEDZAU/s640/DSC_0440.JPG" width="640" /></a> </o:p></b><b><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStjL6gZ5p8qj2WuHKOBto60TTRS0Xq5RzyvT9QiuW_cg9oy09pYK_4f4ext5Q4Gg8o8tqgc-_F2aEx2KlMt4fU6xpQeWmpYHDRE_vOCQNYgw2gkNN0d6QFGu3G2PONODJ9grsHBGbFBc/s1600/DSC_0435.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStjL6gZ5p8qj2WuHKOBto60TTRS0Xq5RzyvT9QiuW_cg9oy09pYK_4f4ext5Q4Gg8o8tqgc-_F2aEx2KlMt4fU6xpQeWmpYHDRE_vOCQNYgw2gkNN0d6QFGu3G2PONODJ9grsHBGbFBc/s400/DSC_0435.JPG" width="265" /></a></o:p></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><br /></o:p></b></div>
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We left Clonbur and headed northward for what would be the
least planned part of our trip. I remember this landscape as dull and
repetitive – but I think we had just adjusted to the amazing beauty of County
Clare and the Connemara. There were still rolling hills, quaint towns, and
beautiful mountains! The goal was to hike Slieve League on our way north. Its
pretty remote and weather is tricky, so I planned an overnight to allow us both
an afternoon and a morning to attempt the hike. As things worked out the
afternoon slot was eaten up but we were lucky to have amazing weather in the
morning once we got there. But first, the afternoon that was probably the
lowest point in the trip. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This drive was where I came to realize a few things: I could
manage the car sickness pretty well for short drives, but it would accumulate
over the longer ones in a way that wouldn’t really become apparent until I got
out of the car. After more than an hour of straight driving, I would be pretty
much shot for 3-4 hours – all of my energy and focus would be on trying to
unscramble my senses and I wasn’t good for much else. This combined with not
being able to find food when we needed it created a lot of stress – keeping my
stomach just full enough of the right kinds of bland foods is pretty critical
for managing the motion sickness. Poor Ty – he was a patient companion even
though he couldn’t really understand my anxieties. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We drove through <a href="http://www.welovedonegal.com/ballyshannon.html">Ballyshannon</a>, which
was the nearest town to our B&B for the night. Doesn’t it sound adorable?
It’s not. It was probably at one time a quaint medium-sized town. Now it was
tired, run down, shuttered and grim. We could only find one pub open at 2pm,
and he kindly directed us to the one restaurant serving lunch this late. We saw
maybe 2-3 people on the street – and this was Saturday afternoon in the heart
of town!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The service at this
restaurant was cool, the other patrons stared at us with unchanging “you aren’t
from here” expressions, and the food was of the classic Irish “you don’t come
here to eat” variety. Or at least, this is how I experienced it all in the
midst of the room spinning from the car ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ty wasn’t really bothered at all. But he usually isn’t. </div>
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We had a few hours to kill before we could check in. Since I
didn’t want to be further depressed by Ballyshannon, we drove across the border
to explore <a href="http://enniskillen.com/towns-villages-in-county-fermanagh/enniskillen/">Enniskillen</a>,
in Northern Ireland. I hadn’t planned any trips into this side as I thought the
border would be a hassle. Turns out it barely warrants a street sign – you
mostly notice that the gas prices have changed from euros to pounds. We had a
nice beautiful drive along a lake and through the woods, but this only made me
more sick. I was also at this point feeling horribly guilty as this was Ty’s
birthday and I was miserable to be with! We had nothing fun or remotely
interesting planned – I had hoped to be on Slieve League this day but the
driving was so much slower than we anticipated that we got to the area too
late. By the time we got to Enniskillen, we were both tired of driving and
managing my nausea. The town turned out to be bigger than we thought, which
means harder to navigate. We decided to just turn around! Oy! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
BUT, we did pass a golf course on the way through, and
decided to stop on the way back. So at least Ty got to hit a bucket of balls on
his birthday. I tried to cheer him on but mostly tried to sit up straight. I do
think this bucket of balls warmed up Ty’s interest in golfing later in the
trip, which he’d been ambivalent about given all we were trying to see and the
changing weather. That golf day turned out to be great for both of us so I am
glad we made this stop and planted the seed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7dAAHgbWUbpRcsR4ad2gX9XoHMAkrM37brvwJ-fgmqIPfw87XAPbSJj3m9bOZepOrXZ7lAgQtlvmexDv43kVBJHdYkTtCOKHWYRMTUweAmYlIWXUY2gaSMreXjWd7o46LbbbpRjRqBg/s1600/2015-09-26+15.31.03.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7dAAHgbWUbpRcsR4ad2gX9XoHMAkrM37brvwJ-fgmqIPfw87XAPbSJj3m9bOZepOrXZ7lAgQtlvmexDv43kVBJHdYkTtCOKHWYRMTUweAmYlIWXUY2gaSMreXjWd7o46LbbbpRjRqBg/s400/2015-09-26+15.31.03.jpg" width="300" /></a> </o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And despite the difficult day – really the only one of the
trip as I recall – we checked into our favorite B&B, <a href="http://www.ernemanor.com/">Erne Manor</a>. The proprietress was exponentially
more kind and warm and fun to talk with than the ones prior, which I couldn’t
have imagined. She moved us upstairs to the more private room which came with a
giant modern soaking tub under a window overlooking a field, and brought us her
own bubble bath. Her house was more modern than any we’d stayed in, which was a
welcome change from all the lovely but super-decorated historical buildings
we’d been seeing. She had couches! A pool table! A TV for watching rugby! She
lived on a road safe enough for Ty to take a run while I took a bath! </div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAkeytdmLsgE2EbE9eb_OvEC9QaNyALU6PtEhRiwQqB_OP-g9arkvv-khf6meiAQa21iKifaLKrH7B8_v668R1E1psq96IqaKMUCnz5c7TBIYHfuB9qLy-IAc5oWu-xnhWpHu-X3LCqU/s1600/2015-09-26+19.02.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Wingdings;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAkeytdmLsgE2EbE9eb_OvEC9QaNyALU6PtEhRiwQqB_OP-g9arkvv-khf6meiAQa21iKifaLKrH7B8_v668R1E1psq96IqaKMUCnz5c7TBIYHfuB9qLy-IAc5oWu-xnhWpHu-X3LCqU/s400/2015-09-26+19.02.56.jpg" width="400" /></a> <o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BnSrOMC9GuC6nh4GRKyNCffSP3jfxK_ap468th_Mbd2_6kmlX4ZU314DPEhD_701jXmVLryn4I6UJQ7VQ9HyRBb9XEXyl9zYtdy0_IEontUxkP9RdUVwb57_Tvj9jFBNKZGhdwaO-A8/s1600/2015-09-27+08.43.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Wingdings;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BnSrOMC9GuC6nh4GRKyNCffSP3jfxK_ap468th_Mbd2_6kmlX4ZU314DPEhD_701jXmVLryn4I6UJQ7VQ9HyRBb9XEXyl9zYtdy0_IEontUxkP9RdUVwb57_Tvj9jFBNKZGhdwaO-A8/s400/2015-09-27+08.43.34.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It was like being in a friend’s house – albeit a fancy
house, and an Irish friend who made us breakfast and let us soak in her tub. It
was the perfect balance point for our trip. She helped us find a nice pub for
dinner and watching the game, which we’d have never found ourselves. We had a
good long chat while Ty was running, and she helped me set up a candle I’d
stashed for his birthday. We enjoyed dinner and drinks in the pub, stood on two
ends of a bridge where the river divided the Republic from Northern Ireland,
and back at the B&B I surprised Ty with a firecracker candle in a scone on
the porch under the stars. Which we looked at for about 30 seconds before
scurrying in from the cold – but it was something at least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We slept great and I took another bath
in the morning! <span style="font-family: "wingdings";">:)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "wingdings";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "wingdings";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVtnkeAvO-aeCFofEa9c5Pm0CatD_7L6wGcol2urv3DN8cohRrImv386maLavyI3Q4-qz1B548X1J-RJtpdspeOO1bLG4lmNMkreSc5f0WwLq8hbUGLPjH0vS4S6aVjZ_6zmfW2YkaAU/s1600/2015-09-26+19.35.59.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVtnkeAvO-aeCFofEa9c5Pm0CatD_7L6wGcol2urv3DN8cohRrImv386maLavyI3Q4-qz1B548X1J-RJtpdspeOO1bLG4lmNMkreSc5f0WwLq8hbUGLPjH0vS4S6aVjZ_6zmfW2YkaAU/s400/2015-09-26+19.35.59.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "wingdings";"><br /></span></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-9182965648431545962016-01-19T22:25:00.006-08:002016-01-30T09:49:51.720-08:009/27 – Slieve League<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/27 – Slieve League<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219867409866740065&authkey=Gv1sRgCMOL3uyomIH_UA&feat=email">here</a>.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This next day was ambitious: we would hike <a href="http://www.ireland.com/en-gb/articles/waw-slieve-league-cliffs/">Slieve
League</a>, the tallest cliffs in Europe and fairly remotely on the south end
of the Inishowen Peninsula, then drive 2+hours to our next hotel in the
north-western corner of the Peninsula (and country).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhJZDN3ePoFa6311fdMlkFmGsIpoEayiOgMzvLmRtt4oYR3usY2XIojxjTJaIO2smimuNoBFx2wM9dYgx9JQ_fm7q3x3ToqLh1LfaisRb8X8mxg_rSBTQZrNhM-iaJxYyR7qkI_9tqG0/s1600/2015-09-27+12.46.09.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhJZDN3ePoFa6311fdMlkFmGsIpoEayiOgMzvLmRtt4oYR3usY2XIojxjTJaIO2smimuNoBFx2wM9dYgx9JQ_fm7q3x3ToqLh1LfaisRb8X8mxg_rSBTQZrNhM-iaJxYyR7qkI_9tqG0/s640/2015-09-27+12.46.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ty’s Slieve League report: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The drive out to Slieve League was uneventful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hike, however, was amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See the photos!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was almost a perfect hike, except
the wind was blowing too hard for us to feel safe going across “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slieve_League#/media/File:Slieve_League_Pilgrim_Path_en.svg">one
man’s pass</a>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We returned to
our car down the backside of the mountain and walked through the local “town”
back to the trailhead. I practiced letting Juliana be right, which added a mile
or so to our walk back to the car, at the end of a very long day of hiking. It
was the longest mile of the day for sure.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
</i>[Juliana: it’s true. I am happy to concede when I am wrong. I just wish I’d
realized I was wrong way earlier and saved us a mile. Usually though, my sense
of direction is much better than Ty’s. Sorry, but it’s true! Uh-oh, argument
brewing!]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Z_-OeyZjXwp95gOCJ6nOIUuTlOETAcw3Wt_FE9vz_zFCgLp5DEnUiwJIhrOZSiJWlqUuoW5I2swPl10baUpIzpsAq7IZ4YQmk7T1t-t1LLwCBvO6WT6rRZAaEQVrHQB6PVskxckFilA/s1600/2015-09-27+12.25.58.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Z_-OeyZjXwp95gOCJ6nOIUuTlOETAcw3Wt_FE9vz_zFCgLp5DEnUiwJIhrOZSiJWlqUuoW5I2swPl10baUpIzpsAq7IZ4YQmk7T1t-t1LLwCBvO6WT6rRZAaEQVrHQB6PVskxckFilA/s400/2015-09-27+12.25.58.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vpY1XrIc7tHW4WasuYyTpXlo00zD3msGj419O3K4EHIsVl_vkmrXlzy86BXXvI6SiJYxwlP9qtApapEsh-He_TziR8Vyqxry5Y_jVASX8wov37AWBGPMrnYJill9O4dcKFirMBsAqow/s1600/2015-09-27+16.16.11.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vpY1XrIc7tHW4WasuYyTpXlo00zD3msGj419O3K4EHIsVl_vkmrXlzy86BXXvI6SiJYxwlP9qtApapEsh-He_TziR8Vyqxry5Y_jVASX8wov37AWBGPMrnYJill9O4dcKFirMBsAqow/s640/2015-09-27+16.16.11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Exhausted and hungry, and worried about car sickness for the
long drive ahead, we stopped in Carrick, a tiny town near Slieve League for
dinner. Again, the cool service, blank stares from locals, and mediocre food.
The Ireland-Romania game was on, which we’d hope would be a peak
watching-in-a-pub experience since it was the home team’s moment. Indeed, a
good chunk of this tiny town was likely in the pub, and many wearing jerseys.
But they watched quietly, if at all, and the mood was not particularly festive
(perhaps because the Irish were beating the crap out of Romania, so there was
no anticipation). I think that the US could beat Ireland in the sports-fan
enthusiasm department! Ireland won and has done very well in the tournament so
far, which is fun for us (especially as Ty is now relating to his Irish
heritage more), but this element of “watching rugby in the pub with people who
also love rugby” really looked different than we expected.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_JPztEexGRGDNmNSXE2en_i2f-hTxbByh3jZpT3qZgTETEdiX12kvYjKwSy5CZDrHrynPmGOU0PLVKXQiSwo4qT-P_1HnYkaEtyAOKFB6bkl3ARfq13zpHSHrVQ2P6zq06ieAtlWd9g/s1600/DSC_0474.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_JPztEexGRGDNmNSXE2en_i2f-hTxbByh3jZpT3qZgTETEdiX12kvYjKwSy5CZDrHrynPmGOU0PLVKXQiSwo4qT-P_1HnYkaEtyAOKFB6bkl3ARfq13zpHSHrVQ2P6zq06ieAtlWd9g/s640/DSC_0474.JPG" width="426" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYwNAaCs0D-tSXRc79Oe7mCkzwFnaGF7YIMIxmjhDfk-FSZpnbw9SiMniqY_DGh2yF7X3gxPY4v-E1jNLbmslbjluEuZVduTD4RkmsjuTorlsZ8WXvNJSdRCJT7stZ7g2U9WlMNP-51g/s1600/2015-09-27+14.31.52.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYwNAaCs0D-tSXRc79Oe7mCkzwFnaGF7YIMIxmjhDfk-FSZpnbw9SiMniqY_DGh2yF7X3gxPY4v-E1jNLbmslbjluEuZVduTD4RkmsjuTorlsZ8WXvNJSdRCJT7stZ7g2U9WlMNP-51g/s640/2015-09-27+14.31.52.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
[Juliana: Since Ty's a man of few words, I'm going to include a lot of amazing photos in this post as well.]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Z_-OeyZjXwp95gOCJ6nOIUuTlOETAcw3Wt_FE9vz_zFCgLp5DEnUiwJIhrOZSiJWlqUuoW5I2swPl10baUpIzpsAq7IZ4YQmk7T1t-t1LLwCBvO6WT6rRZAaEQVrHQB6PVskxckFilA/s1600/2015-09-27+12.25.58.jpg" imageanchor="1"> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ACMiHl5itOerqyy7O__d6I4w6eqGy3MCTCw3swnRTcjqLyPOfFso-m27F4sogArJbZiZR-DzziYiw6L9jIqkMUqG6__VEQpPObG-RNaWttDAbfiGFi6rWoYxI2P7BuMnzIdfYQlz1nw/s1600/2015-09-27+14.53.21.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ACMiHl5itOerqyy7O__d6I4w6eqGy3MCTCw3swnRTcjqLyPOfFso-m27F4sogArJbZiZR-DzziYiw6L9jIqkMUqG6__VEQpPObG-RNaWttDAbfiGFi6rWoYxI2P7BuMnzIdfYQlz1nw/s400/2015-09-27+14.53.21.jpg" width="400" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLPG9uTf00S6QRQoY8h6ZJIxFSF_aZg4_gYSLE_IOuUq_wN7gxLXfYKBSsJfKQ43A1qf-CDcHgWFL_uKuWLw0P7FCH8pZ4EM_uY1FbdYPlNDvK6P9p7k5xwMLiSY_nZze8A-2qbQMKDs/s1600/2015-09-27+13.25.26.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLPG9uTf00S6QRQoY8h6ZJIxFSF_aZg4_gYSLE_IOuUq_wN7gxLXfYKBSsJfKQ43A1qf-CDcHgWFL_uKuWLw0P7FCH8pZ4EM_uY1FbdYPlNDvK6P9p7k5xwMLiSY_nZze8A-2qbQMKDs/s400/2015-09-27+13.25.26.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-53723048845643503952016-01-19T22:25:00.005-08:002016-01-30T09:50:31.769-08:009/28 - Inishowen Peninsula<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/28 - Inishowen
Peninsula<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219869900176113809&authkey=Gv1sRgCKzBx-HwsNfYywE&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road trip leg 4 <a href="https://goo.gl/maps/pnnvtksETKE2">here</a>. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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After Slieve League and dinner in Carrick, we made the drive
up the Inishowen Peninsula (the north-west corner of the country and island) to
Buncrana, arriving after dark. Perhaps because my body was so tired, I don’t
recall being too sick from the ride, thankfully. Our lodging here was at <a href="http://www.harbourinn.ie/">Harbour Inn Hotel</a>, and while it would have
been perfectly nice before our B&B experiences, it now felt a bit cold and
stiff. We had a giant room, but it felt like a Travelodge on I-5 compared to
staying in these lovely homes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The hotel restaurant and bar felt like something out of a
business convention nightmare, but we found a pub up the road still open and
with interesting reviews and “the best log fire in Ireland”. It turned out to
be only open for drinks, not food – a theme for this area that would come back
to haunt us. Tonight we’d already had dinner down near Slieve League so could
do without snacks/dessert, but the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g212531-d3448188-Reviews-Drift_Inn-Buncrana_County_Donegal.html#photos">ambience</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>at the Drift Inn was more like Joe’s
Crab Shack! The fireplace was being hogged (and surely <a href="http://www.thedriftinn.ie/#!View%20of%20the%20Harness%20Bar/zoom/c1pwt/imagef9w">not
the best in Ireland</a>) and the décor was claustrophobic, but we decided to
stay for a drink and then call it a night early. It had, after all, been a
really big day. Ty tried gamely to talk up the local barstool warmer, but he
wasn’t interested. We tried to talk to the bartender, and he wasn’t interested.
Finally, as we were wrapping up our drink, they both decided to talk to us and
it turned out we couldn’t understand a word they were saying, due to the thick <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixFQUpLnr3E">Gaelic accent</a>! But we
felt loved by their efforts. We never got their names, but it didn’t matter,
because, again, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUteMtNhe3g">Gaelic. </a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Just as our ears were starting to adjust and the
conversation started to take off, a group of rowdy people roughly our age and
roaring drunk butted in, adopted Ty (or rather, cuffed him about the shoulder
shouting “what’s the craic?” to which Ty, not quite catching the words through
the drunken irish tones, answered “I’m Ty!” which endeared him to everyone),
and cornered us for the rest of the night. We were bought drinks, educated
about all of their family in America (mostly in <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/dir/Davis,+CA/Chicago,+IL/@39.890618,-113.6758683,5z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m13!4m12!1m5!1m1!1s0x808529999495543f:0xc3013f1b6ee28fff!2m2!1d-121.7405167!2d38.5449065!1m5!1m1!1s0x880e2c3cd0f4cbed:0xafe0a6ad09c0c000!2m2!1d-87.6297982!2d41.8781136">Chicago</a>,
but in case we ever met them… although they may be former neighbors with the
priest who married Will and Keely? We didn’t have the heart to tell them there
might be more than one priest by his name in California, and that if it was
him, he was an ex-priest doing non-catholic weddings). We learned about their
jobs, their drinking preferences, their kids, their childhoods (this group
turned out to be two brothers and their wives who had all grown up together). I
don’t think we’ve ever been privy to so much joyous drunken blabbering – half
of which was too Gaelic to follow. Eventually we pulled away to try to get some
sleep – after all it had been a big day. It still took a good half hour of
extracting ourselves, but we had finally found the craic. Or rather, it had
found us, and had us pegged in a fisherman’s themed bar in the tiny town of
Buncrana on a Sunday night. </div>
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I can't find any photos from this day. But here's a nice one of Buncrana a few days later.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTmq_4RK2FTIlsp-y9r42MfRMUZ-cC-m9C-1y9wdG5c9s1LnCe7lljWVjPEQsI2-4tBaDbVS447ha_cRynMrI8jkFqhf22euNGoVa_cW0HQTTRf4NhZdlCON5WN-Kjlpbbw4oWzLMNSI/s1600/DSC_0761.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTmq_4RK2FTIlsp-y9r42MfRMUZ-cC-m9C-1y9wdG5c9s1LnCe7lljWVjPEQsI2-4tBaDbVS447ha_cRynMrI8jkFqhf22euNGoVa_cW0HQTTRf4NhZdlCON5WN-Kjlpbbw4oWzLMNSI/s640/DSC_0761.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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And another of various house-warming fuel options for sale at the grocery store. You can see the peat logs on the bottom right. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBRYFvzGhlPqiuEW466aGSMpNLtdEqK080hfOyCc9tmRhaW7VULQDNGeymzFmhNsWjkBEuJdjdcw5Ee4tegJ7XlAsbMowE4Xnh3dJRBJ7g7tN-dzkS3fa9ZFclk55lVew28ozeS-gfJk/s1600/2015-09-30+09.09.28.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBRYFvzGhlPqiuEW466aGSMpNLtdEqK080hfOyCc9tmRhaW7VULQDNGeymzFmhNsWjkBEuJdjdcw5Ee4tegJ7XlAsbMowE4Xnh3dJRBJ7g7tN-dzkS3fa9ZFclk55lVew28ozeS-gfJk/s640/2015-09-30+09.09.28.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-66681714472998727312016-01-19T22:25:00.004-08:002016-01-30T09:52:12.405-08:009/29 - County Antrim Day Trip - Crossing Borders, Cross Tempers, and Giant’s Causeway<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9/29 - County Antrim
Day Trip - Crossing Borders, Cross Tempers, and Giant’s Causeway<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219869900176113809&authkey=Gv1sRgCKzBx-HwsNfYywE&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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The next morning, our first priority was finding a laundry
in town. This required several circles through the one way streets of the old
part of town, getting stuck in drop-off-the-kids-for-school traffic, getting
stuck in funeral traffic, and some anxious “maybe we should find breakfast
first/no that will just take longer” debates. It was a long morning. We finally
found the laundry and the breakfast – a modern deli attached to a grocery store
with regular sized bagels and porridge (oatmeal) that seemed amazing after 2
weeks of sturdy Irish breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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We then set out for Derry and Giant’s Causeway, now that we
knew the border crossing was a nonevent. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Troubles_in_Derry">Derry/Londonderry</a>
is right on the border of the Republic and Northern Ireland, and the site of
both historic and recent battles for the religion and identity of Ireland. U2’s
song <a href="http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=890">Bloody Sunday</a> was
written about the 1970’s IRA bombing here, and similar Catholic/Protestant
animosity dated back at least as far as the 1600’s. We walked the old walls of
the fortified city, looked out over the formerly segregated Catholic settlement
outside the city (now absorbed by modern sprawl), saw <a href="http://www.irishtimes.com/news/ireland/irish-news/give-me-a-crash-course-in-the-2015-irish-republican-army-1.2332584">active
IRA flags</a>, signs, and graffiti, and walked the Peace Bridge over the river
to the former Protestant side of the city. We wondered how the Catholics felt
about a peace bridge put up in the 2000s by the British Government, while they
were still to some degree struggling for equal pay and housing, even if the
actual “Troubles” of the 1970s had simmered down. We later listened to an interesting
podcast about someone growing up during this time, when to be proud of your
flag and country was to be labeled an IRA terrorist. It was fascinating and
sad, and clearly more complex than we understood. There was a palpable
heaviness, despite the old part of town being taken over by high end shopping
and a giant mall (which we spent half an hour trying to exit due to tourist
confusion about how to pay for our parking space a different and ridiculous
kind of trouble).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGORNRAXELcJQ2auKEaavjnr-x-ZvGcvbV0xQ5IhRp5ApHvPdCteeyD1wG85s4GNRkiza9B7SmcJ3LL8qb-ToJ8D4YRePLrmdhHtE0zFkyk4dGPx3jqzCZvQM1Lakx37h3kq24NUMAb8/s1600/2015-09-28+11.34.26.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGORNRAXELcJQ2auKEaavjnr-x-ZvGcvbV0xQ5IhRp5ApHvPdCteeyD1wG85s4GNRkiza9B7SmcJ3LL8qb-ToJ8D4YRePLrmdhHtE0zFkyk4dGPx3jqzCZvQM1Lakx37h3kq24NUMAb8/s640/2015-09-28+11.34.26.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NQ9cC64yJMX7UYUACThMEPR-FyW8fFySWfVlSBb0zFjUfHSO2zS5AHe3_ZZGZoerKXeZ6VH-KfIT_xmK4RUCwIfndRNFpJ2SvF_7ktel2XoJjSoFYr_s7htnTYhDln8DC4DkUcnIwuQ/s1600/2015-09-28+12.21.24.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NQ9cC64yJMX7UYUACThMEPR-FyW8fFySWfVlSBb0zFjUfHSO2zS5AHe3_ZZGZoerKXeZ6VH-KfIT_xmK4RUCwIfndRNFpJ2SvF_7ktel2XoJjSoFYr_s7htnTYhDln8DC4DkUcnIwuQ/s640/2015-09-28+12.21.24.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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On someone’s suggestion, we stopped at a small beach town
called Portrush for lunch. It looked like a cold Santa Cruz and didn’t feel
worth the extra side trip – although we did eat good food, have a lovely view
of the beach and ocean at the restaurant, and did enjoy the relative levity after
Derry. It was here that we finally realized that "pie" means "with potatoes." So fish pie (see photo) is a mashup (get it?) of shepherds pie and clam chowder. Ty reports it was quite tasty and very rich. I had chicken tikka - the first food with any spice to it whatsoever and was happy as clam. However, the day was getting away from us, and we had our one and only
driving fight trying to get from Portrush to Giants Causeway. I think we recovered well and decided
to press on to Giants Causeway although we’d only have about 90 minutes to see
it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbWd_8dk-CHn0WEFdREqYq2fytb7yZBIuvzoM9LZ5evSFbH1nLF41nxKWPtiaKjK8dSwinT6EUprkDsvwdDSHu2LmLM_IuqSOGWINdMPXuEmCtwwLwib706vBSHMLGl9b8TPaQSvhzTE/s1600/2015-09-28+14.39.22.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbWd_8dk-CHn0WEFdREqYq2fytb7yZBIuvzoM9LZ5evSFbH1nLF41nxKWPtiaKjK8dSwinT6EUprkDsvwdDSHu2LmLM_IuqSOGWINdMPXuEmCtwwLwib706vBSHMLGl9b8TPaQSvhzTE/s400/2015-09-28+14.39.22.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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It was a rushed trip but worth it – <a href="http://www.giantscausewayofficialguide.com/">Giant’s Causeway</a> is a
section of coast with strange hexagonal rocks that form towering clusters in
some places, and a natural checkerboard jetty in others. The hexagons are fun
to scramble around upon, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>full
of tourists – but we were happy to be somewhere beautiful and not full of war
and abuse. Because there is a similar area just 30km across the sea in
Scotland, the legend developed that this “causeway” of stepping stones use to
connect the two countries until two giants had a fight that broke the
connection. Cute myths are not a bad way to recover from true sad history. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0BEjfdTbk1ZLgnarqSMn9xMvgv22QZRRGbdtMD27TxbEw-y_xD6Ul7A4JVr7UmbiaNWmNZLwIzZ-_Chglk7N74GQo9qrTenBnicjalGUX_Yn1SOHuH2laXFjmjnAhXJoa3wXQjOsEOw/s1600/DSC_0537.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0BEjfdTbk1ZLgnarqSMn9xMvgv22QZRRGbdtMD27TxbEw-y_xD6Ul7A4JVr7UmbiaNWmNZLwIzZ-_Chglk7N74GQo9qrTenBnicjalGUX_Yn1SOHuH2laXFjmjnAhXJoa3wXQjOsEOw/s640/DSC_0537.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_J_j2wKqJsreNQd_BH_hae2QOpsojMPwixD2Zcin5komP8nCJFDFLzuz5U6im_Wgb28ilV-Uedtz5qO-uLcA4gAjnFpNaDTUBehHt964h5t1c9jwqp-CQz9Ce9kaczDhRU4SK1M0kbm8/s1600/DSC_0567.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_J_j2wKqJsreNQd_BH_hae2QOpsojMPwixD2Zcin5komP8nCJFDFLzuz5U6im_Wgb28ilV-Uedtz5qO-uLcA4gAjnFpNaDTUBehHt964h5t1c9jwqp-CQz9Ce9kaczDhRU4SK1M0kbm8/s640/DSC_0567.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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The gift store and educational center was also beautiful,
modern, and thoughtfully done. Although we didn’t have much time there, I was
able to appreciate a modern take on connecting tourists to the landscape – they
repeated the hexagon shapes and the tower motif in the architecture, branding,
and gift shop. I am a sucker for a well-executed theme!</div>
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We then promised not to kill each other on the drive home
and raced for the day’s last <a href="http://www.loughfoyleferry.com/">Lough
Foyle car ferry</a>. This would save us over an hour of driving, great for Ty’s
tired brain and my car sickness, as well as making the day more pleasurable.
Why drive through Derry when you can take a ferry across the bay from one
country to another? We also have a bit of a boat theme in our trips an this was
our chance to be on a boat – even if only for 15 minutes. We raced through the
countryside and made it to the ferry launch 3 minutes ahead of the last
scheduled departure. Whoo! And….the boat was 20 minutes late. Figures! But the
ride was beautiful, with the sun lowering through gorgeous clouds and the warm
weather holding enough for us to get out of the car and enjoy the ride. </div>
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<o:p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiY87agsiZC3scMHaQtzkF8TZc-Z3weuncQg_tUIYXk5Fl35da4q019O2z7OeLEzXM_57bA9V5n7EifYkJAjCSGiUJuAN38E1PDiMeakdth3jf-xoI5iCoXw-5vhzArnREXLCakuglvxs/s1600/DSC_0593.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiY87agsiZC3scMHaQtzkF8TZc-Z3weuncQg_tUIYXk5Fl35da4q019O2z7OeLEzXM_57bA9V5n7EifYkJAjCSGiUJuAN38E1PDiMeakdth3jf-xoI5iCoXw-5vhzArnREXLCakuglvxs/s640/DSC_0593.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJ6uSIkFx7FXy36UbBnHxx4lJ6hJSg1UlHW7ZOXXKm8suFuj83lCZoMigKqEGDhkeaKunJAhcO70Uy6SZV4B_8qOp8UAXNMXbOGPmD9rUHgyVKVB8SiCo7hQa712dYz_mChdPJOxcg78/s1600/DSC_0590.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJ6uSIkFx7FXy36UbBnHxx4lJ6hJSg1UlHW7ZOXXKm8suFuj83lCZoMigKqEGDhkeaKunJAhcO70Uy6SZV4B_8qOp8UAXNMXbOGPmD9rUHgyVKVB8SiCo7hQa712dYz_mChdPJOxcg78/s400/DSC_0590.JPG" width="400" /></a></o:p></div>
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Instead of sensibly heading home, we decided to make a pass
through <a href="http://www.discoverireland.ie/Arts-Culture-Heritage/malin-head-wild-atlantic-way/91299">Malin
Head</a>, just in case we would run out of time to see it. This is the northern
most point of Ireland, where rumors of northern lights and <a href="http://www.arkive.org/basking-shark/cetorhinus-maximus/image-G64973.html">basking
shark</a> viewings had grabbed my attention. We saw neither, but instead took
in a glorious sunset (Ty’s highlight of the trip) on top of the cliff, and
watched dolphins leaping in the waves below. Because we were out on the head,
the sunset was unobstructed 360 degrees around, and because it was Ireland,
there were gorgeous puffy clouds throwing the light and colors all around. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidd5Ytx9yiP1y6hcKjHAiUl4PMSXUR4WGq9Kxmlg7owLV9ZU5r70eExaBt6VBEVULNbc1z7q4kkiumg4XEpa217QJXHuw5cT7ZWvL7mRJINskIpJKjUct8hnA59ujIAzn_SXzHb28RomM/s1600/2015-09-28+19.18.40.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidd5Ytx9yiP1y6hcKjHAiUl4PMSXUR4WGq9Kxmlg7owLV9ZU5r70eExaBt6VBEVULNbc1z7q4kkiumg4XEpa217QJXHuw5cT7ZWvL7mRJINskIpJKjUct8hnA59ujIAzn_SXzHb28RomM/s640/2015-09-28+19.18.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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During the sunset spectacle, we chatted up a local who lived
down the road and invited us back to bottle feed his calf. Bob the calf was
3months old, pure white, and much like a dog to James, the friendly local. We
fed him around 4 gallons milk in just a few minutes, then played with James’s
cat and chatted up his neighbor while James’ playfully chased Bob back to his
barn. We were too tired to take James up on his offer of coffee in the house –
which was hard to do, but we hadn’t eaten and it was already dark, and we were
still almost an hour from home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was definitely a highlight of the trip- meeting and hearing about
James’s life (he is roughly our age, and works various jobs to make ends meet
in addition to small scale farming), feeding the calf, and generally taking
strangers up on offers we wouldn’t have felt comfortable doing at home. In the photo below you can see about 3 houses. One of them belongs to James. The other presumably belongs to another James, since in a town so small there aren't house numbers, there are four James Donaghues).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ejO07YRLaYzviS_wpG_7TqWDuJ8dZU0Bn2o-ABd_hFsJeS-MKu8SZbhVtf2eLvbd6j64yL-VxjIfkgbLb38rZlcxFx7FSfPriPzdy-LlRS4MRGt9i4C8XlJTqM4ebNY5sJDRMawF490/s1600/DSC_0610.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ejO07YRLaYzviS_wpG_7TqWDuJ8dZU0Bn2o-ABd_hFsJeS-MKu8SZbhVtf2eLvbd6j64yL-VxjIfkgbLb38rZlcxFx7FSfPriPzdy-LlRS4MRGt9i4C8XlJTqM4ebNY5sJDRMawF490/s640/DSC_0610.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgwu7QbpBLt0vhhWpzezzTso5SX4XlRz7KVTKIlAzx3XRYeohBxBJOmK5Td68upupv8jKYrxhLMBPgKtI32hi0yWNDYzAEaq4MkYaspYT9peCyMKOVUAp4mi2P94HXiJ06xbvDN9PMZA/s1600/2015-09-28+19.52.29.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgwu7QbpBLt0vhhWpzezzTso5SX4XlRz7KVTKIlAzx3XRYeohBxBJOmK5Td68upupv8jKYrxhLMBPgKtI32hi0yWNDYzAEaq4MkYaspYT9peCyMKOVUAp4mi2P94HXiJ06xbvDN9PMZA/s400/2015-09-28+19.52.29.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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On our way back, I stumbled upon a high point for me: on the
side of the road, just a block outside of downtown Carndonaugh, sits the <a href="http://www.visitinishowen.com/things_to_see_and_do/1/7/15/232/Inishowen_Tourism">Donagh
Cross</a>, the oldest celtic cross in Ireland, dating to the time of St
Patrick. While I’m not convinced of the sainthood of Patrick, I am a sucker for
religious archeology, and spent a good while pondering the iconography of
Jesus, ravens, and King David carved by much older hands into this beautiful
1200 year old cross, which resides next to a crosswalk in a tiny town that,
according to James, thinks its just a silly tourist spot but a handy way to
remember where to turn left to get to Buncrana. Only recently did I realize the Donagh cross and the Donaghue Jameses are the same Donagh. Ireland, so small. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNI7xLVCPt_SPgH4xXCVYvpeR9IqUtM_xWSm4r1um7yRxn9gwC78hUQvWRopOzPq-v_6Zpx3YNX4Olvm9z1wOZ0G9F_uw6a83gdPMnvyfKFdSl72XZZXweMsw8MtZvg66KkmaqJ7lbVE/s1600/2015-09-28+20.38.49.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNI7xLVCPt_SPgH4xXCVYvpeR9IqUtM_xWSm4r1um7yRxn9gwC78hUQvWRopOzPq-v_6Zpx3YNX4Olvm9z1wOZ0G9F_uw6a83gdPMnvyfKFdSl72XZZXweMsw8MtZvg66KkmaqJ7lbVE/s400/2015-09-28+20.38.49.jpg" width="400" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib400YsHEK2G7Mw9Z7rZdC5_-_FI3ApA3HT7MYYE4O7rqbm64ksi_119XxnFNNmCUPidIa4cJKbNTOIeoEJblZvWwjGRm_77XrzESg0odGsCnzKWvD7JYc14xvO514l4BVSl3CkbkZPx8/s1600/DSC_0627.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib400YsHEK2G7Mw9Z7rZdC5_-_FI3ApA3HT7MYYE4O7rqbm64ksi_119XxnFNNmCUPidIa4cJKbNTOIeoEJblZvWwjGRm_77XrzESg0odGsCnzKWvD7JYc14xvO514l4BVSl3CkbkZPx8/s400/DSC_0627.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Ah Buncrana, where you can’t get food of any kind after
7:30pm. We drove to three restaurants who were advertised as open until 9pm,
but whose kitchens were all closed at 8:30. We ended up at our hotel, munching
on peanuts and drinking silly girly cocktails (well, I was, and to be honest
they were really tasty in a fruity slushy sort of way…and a nice break from
beer. Ty still drank beer). Of course as we were wrapping up the bartender
finally was willing to chat with us. Turns out he grew up in Derry and had
apprenticed in the hospitality industry in Boulder CO after college. So we had
plenty to talk about, despite being tired and starving. This is pretty much how
I will remember Buncrana: harder than I expected, and more rewarding than I
could have asked for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I had been so flustered by Buncrana at first (no
tourist-friendly food, sterile lodging, confusing roads), and so concerned
about the toll that driving was taking on both of us (we had a 4 hour drive
from Buncrana to Dublin a few days ahead) that I had spent a good hour one
tired night trying to find a halfway point where we could lodge on the way back
to Dublin, instead of staying longer in Buncrana and making the big drive in
one day. But nothing looked more reliable, and we’d be forfeiting a prepaid
night in Buncrana, so we stayed. How lucky for both of us that we did. </div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-69433827939953965312016-01-19T22:25:00.003-08:002016-01-30T09:52:27.905-08:009/30 – Inishownen Peninsula, Contd.<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><b>9/30 – Inishownen Peninsula, Contd.</b></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219869900176113809&authkey=Gv1sRgCKzBx-HwsNfYywE&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We decided to make the grocery store café, perkily and
succinctly named <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g212531-d4063186-Reviews-The_Coffee_Cup-Buncrana_County_Donegal.html">The
Coffee Cup</a>, our home base (bagels felt like grace at that point – even if
the breakfast sandwich was still irish bacon inside the bagel, and the eggs
were hardboiled, not scrambled!). This morning, our last full day in Buncrana,
we began by expertly getting bagels and coffee at the grocery story, and by
picking up our laundry like bosses in the old part of town. We avoided the
school traffic and headed up to Ballyliffin Golf Course, where Ty would play a
round of proper Irish golf and I would get a massage. Yes, it was going to be a
good day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turns out, it was going to be an amazing day. We found out a
bit late that the golf course and hotel were actually several miles apart – and
while Ty had the ability to drive the car, I had the time to kill (since golf
takes 4 hours – or in Ireland, 6, it turns out) and a massage is only an hour.
Luckily there was a beach in between the two, where Ty dropped me off and I had
my best day of the trip. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEaQW3GZEItQVm_inIntzezc6v1G0Qt34FnthornS5tIK5jMuv3ZG5n3i4jJcNnLO1ijt_GdiV6XsT3pGhGst5wOo4CqxoeSjuOUT3A4mXW5FrkptkBW_mSuy6MoO0EPlT6Sm0W2i3kM/s1600/DSC_0711.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEaQW3GZEItQVm_inIntzezc6v1G0Qt34FnthornS5tIK5jMuv3ZG5n3i4jJcNnLO1ijt_GdiV6XsT3pGhGst5wOo4CqxoeSjuOUT3A4mXW5FrkptkBW_mSuy6MoO0EPlT6Sm0W2i3kM/s640/DSC_0711.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ty’s version of the day looked like this: speed over to the <a href="http://www.ballyliffingolfclub.com/">Ballyliffin</a> course, get set up
with rental clubs, get those clubs thrown in for free, thus helping with the
very expensive greens fees and golf balls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While rolling a few practice putts next to the first tee of
the Old Course, Ty gets adopted into a two-some with a local who literally
lived on the driveway to the club, and a northern-Irishman visiting his brother
nearby. Both are much older and playing the part of the welcoming and charming
Irishmen. Play 6 hours of golf (more on this below from Ty), race back to hotel
just as Juliana is seriously wondering what has gone wrong. Bring Juliana back
to the clubhouse for dinner and to meet playing partners Patsy and James, as
well as chatty Mary the caddy, who also takes a liking to us. Sadly Juliana is
pooped and too afraid of missing dinner two nights in a row to chat people up,
so instead we eat an amazing dinner watching the sunset over the beach, the
course, and the west coast of Ireland. </div>
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<o:p><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvH30HEJjqRMV9a-BwWuEKjgDHo2QVdR7Us-jss9M-aovUYj0t1sIMcTpCCAoi5aKDcLb09-S0kucdGqLrYfZz8_pEs-nCru7_kuQdMrcYrWi0rEbHEl6Ff0qzPY4T5ZRhCVmW4Mr694/s1600/2015-09-29+16.31.40.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvH30HEJjqRMV9a-BwWuEKjgDHo2QVdR7Us-jss9M-aovUYj0t1sIMcTpCCAoi5aKDcLb09-S0kucdGqLrYfZz8_pEs-nCru7_kuQdMrcYrWi0rEbHEl6Ff0qzPY4T5ZRhCVmW4Mr694/s640/2015-09-29+16.31.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></b></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ty’s Irish Golf Course Report: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The golf course, named Ballyliffin, after the town it is in,
consists of the Old Links and the Glasheady Links.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I played the Old Links, because older is better in golf
courses, right?…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out, the
Old Links is probably the easier and less beautiful course, but it was plenty
challenging and amazing anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Old Links has fairways with all kinds of undulating terrain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was told that the Old Links has
the undulations because it was built by hand by the local members without the
benefit of earth-moving equipment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather was amazingly atypical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slight breezes and hardly any
clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I played poorly on all but
a few holes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The links style
course demands that you hit it straight, and I did not hit it straight very
often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Missing the fairway or
green resulted in 5 minutes of looking for the ball, as my playing partners
insisted that we could find it, every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And most of the time we did!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did have some memorable shots: a 300 yard (down breeze)
drive which prompted James to declare that I don’t swing like a 14
handicap!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(but the rest of the
round would prove that 14 is not sandbagging!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to make a birdie on a par 4 on the front nine, and
I struck the purest 4 iron of my life on a 205 yard par 3 which checked up on
the green about 5 feet from the hole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I thankfully made the birdie putt and was pretty darn pleased.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichiig6W0eR1skeu3HsBWU-VNj6nrI7OZtJix5uSmM-3vhqZvCQA9WdDFA-epgZbZXAgYwulfMeHNPmD9gg2mHhyphenhypheneW_BOqnEAGa1SqM8oWaFIjoaCm94ourhqF8X6Et7ClkPMaMz5mu-Q/s1600/2015-09-29+16.32.27.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichiig6W0eR1skeu3HsBWU-VNj6nrI7OZtJix5uSmM-3vhqZvCQA9WdDFA-epgZbZXAgYwulfMeHNPmD9gg2mHhyphenhypheneW_BOqnEAGa1SqM8oWaFIjoaCm94ourhqF8X6Et7ClkPMaMz5mu-Q/s400/2015-09-29+16.32.27.jpg" width="300" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQbnGEFkZ7GMI_EjHWzslAgH44EWBLjZ5RuOukJUq09JvjifAXhaCO6OrDpI0QS9YqcUIAhCdxHl3J6ovZTGU8DQT8rDpXo3iEkV0UQkIBxLjT-ck1pG2wfBH-Qx0vjyEO0obDCuY8yw/s1600/2015-09-29+16.05.14.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQbnGEFkZ7GMI_EjHWzslAgH44EWBLjZ5RuOukJUq09JvjifAXhaCO6OrDpI0QS9YqcUIAhCdxHl3J6ovZTGU8DQT8rDpXo3iEkV0UQkIBxLjT-ck1pG2wfBH-Qx0vjyEO0obDCuY8yw/s400/2015-09-29+16.05.14.jpg" width="300" /></a></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Juliana’s version of the day – and I’m pretty sure I had the
better day - is this: Ty dropped me off at the beach around 11am, which we read
or estimated to be 1.5 miles long. I wander along, happy to have 4 hours to
till until my massage at 4:15. It’s beautiful, its sunny, its almost deserted,
and there appears to be both tidepools and a castle at the far end. The pathway
next to the beach is along the course, so at various times I get to look in and
see what type of day Ty might be having. Also seems pretty nice. I’m happy we
are each doing our thing and enjoying it. The tidepools are beautiful – no
critters, but lovely seaweeds and interesting rocks. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYT-X-ok4NPbo53EbW8CeeteQQBl_Wlyj5c5U0SSqvzgejPUJHS0feLoQv_BSwsokpq0pU1KJ-A7ExEqJDJvuMHdzrX_1VDmE4Vl0SQSgPUwuSolDPaC-pPF3Ooq4-sjblkZQIjHBBls/s1600/DSC_0645.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYT-X-ok4NPbo53EbW8CeeteQQBl_Wlyj5c5U0SSqvzgejPUJHS0feLoQv_BSwsokpq0pU1KJ-A7ExEqJDJvuMHdzrX_1VDmE4Vl0SQSgPUwuSolDPaC-pPF3Ooq4-sjblkZQIjHBBls/s640/DSC_0645.JPG" width="640" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwt3kAYEgU6pko9Bm5JIQkL9KqxZIKe9X6yetEuSqyAeg1huyBBsnYL_y-YpdVtr9LrgmaBrywV69wTmAq7sAdqFNuz-Vx2VXa7hKs8S7WSkxTGsDcdueY-S3yKmgVEYo2dHZ7hUhrkk/s1600/DSC_0684.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwt3kAYEgU6pko9Bm5JIQkL9KqxZIKe9X6yetEuSqyAeg1huyBBsnYL_y-YpdVtr9LrgmaBrywV69wTmAq7sAdqFNuz-Vx2VXa7hKs8S7WSkxTGsDcdueY-S3yKmgVEYo2dHZ7hUhrkk/s640/DSC_0684.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ruined <a href="http://www.visitballyliffin.com/places-of-interest/carraickabraghy-castle/">castle</a>
is deserted but there is an information sign, and it overlooks the ocean waves
crashing on the rocks. There is a family living nearby, so I don’t feel too
alone. It’s strange and adorable to watch a young woman mothering her toddler
in the shadow of a ruined castle, more concerned with hanging laundry and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>preventing knee bumps than this chunk
of history that seems so novel to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaWQuCFzvNU-0KpBYMYPA8b283Erf7vF5mAcqVeVNfCBBlJFTEToHkgFeP4Q889vB1LMmgytzVgqEmQTBZCKibBZ0w0uQqnG9xZfYqiAVlioX7mrDvleC1JwaUCjliH3xtzkwigSdG2o/s1600/DSC_0708.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaWQuCFzvNU-0KpBYMYPA8b283Erf7vF5mAcqVeVNfCBBlJFTEToHkgFeP4Q889vB1LMmgytzVgqEmQTBZCKibBZ0w0uQqnG9xZfYqiAVlioX7mrDvleC1JwaUCjliH3xtzkwigSdG2o/s400/DSC_0708.JPG" width="400" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNz583ERzDC7eFvEh-_D360D4AmN-X0KIjvUhHGzxcOTRUJm3VkkeAaEeZ460bPAiVV5lApgx4y-P0EYdeaCDGGGvDZc9XIfuY0HYtVrzLMovbrxwByJy9bevhOgPaOqZ9PcmbYEqFCY/s1600/DSC_0751.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNz583ERzDC7eFvEh-_D360D4AmN-X0KIjvUhHGzxcOTRUJm3VkkeAaEeZ460bPAiVV5lApgx4y-P0EYdeaCDGGGvDZc9XIfuY0HYtVrzLMovbrxwByJy9bevhOgPaOqZ9PcmbYEqFCY/s400/DSC_0751.JPG" width="400" /></a></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Its getting warmer and warmer, and I get to pass two horses
and even pet one while chatting up some tourists and road repair workers. We
all marvel at the day and I walk back to the beach, this time taking off my
shoes and walking in the cool but pleasant water. Its more like a sunny
afternoon in Los Angeles. Its so stunning I ask one of the few people I see to
take my photo. She obliges. I ask her the time. It’s 3:30. I am still at the
far end of the beach. Serene feelings are gone in a flash. I have been wanting
this massage for so long I panic and start to run down the beach. I am not a
runner. I have asthma. I am barefoot. I am carrying heavy winter shoes in one
hand, a giant camera in another, and my daypack is flopping around like the
dead dolphin we saw in Doolin on my back. I reconfigure the pack to the front,
where I can stop the flopping but look even more ridiculous. I’m sweating and
my feet are cramping from running in the sand. Suddenly I wonder what I look
like, on this glorious “never happens” day in northern Ireland, as my foolish
self is run/hopping along a beach that is literally sparkling with the remnants
of the tide in the sunlight, and I start laughing hilariously. This
crazy-person giggling seems to stem my asthma, and I run longer than I’ve ever
run before. There’s no asthma, the foot cramping subsides, the sweat starts to
feel normal (sorry future masseusse…), and I’m back to enjoying the day. I make
it back to the beach parking lot, and find my foot washing station being torn of
up by a giant backhoe with a drill attachment. Of course! I only have to walk
up this giant hill to my massage with sandy feet and heavy winter shoes and
socks…but I do. And I make it in time to have a cold drink and a sandwich in
the <a href="http://www.ballyliffinlodge.com/">hotel</a> restaurant before my
appointment. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUAfNtrjpy3l8eeE3N7hhezI-5R-5hETN4saFVV2-qN_B75PBe46UNzENrJgM1t3UcaR4HBh4X4Zv9hEpw4t_DNVuktH1OSWHb2ruTd25v5fiD9ad2f5UGiVTtzrwB3IST-GQj1ZqALw/s1600/DSC_0642.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUAfNtrjpy3l8eeE3N7hhezI-5R-5hETN4saFVV2-qN_B75PBe46UNzENrJgM1t3UcaR4HBh4X4Zv9hEpw4t_DNVuktH1OSWHb2ruTd25v5fiD9ad2f5UGiVTtzrwB3IST-GQj1ZqALw/s640/DSC_0642.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
My massage is glorious and includes a facial. I feel like a
princess. There are giant fluffy robes involved. No fewer than 6 types of goo
were kneaded into my face. Luggage hauling knots, sleeping on planes knots,
motion sickness management knots<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-
they are no match for this. I come out a new and slightly woozy person. I
think, no problem, I have time to wake up. It’s only 5pm Ty’s probably just finished golf
and is heading up the hill. I wait in the lobby of the hotel trying not to be
too obviously not a guest. Around 6:00 I start to wonder. I eat the remains of
my sandwich. I get sick of reading my book. At 6:30 I start to really worry.
How will I track down Ty? Ty has the one cell phone and the car. But he hasn’t
left any messages at the hotel. The hotel could call the golf course, but what
if he’s left? Just about this time, Ty shows up, apologetic. 6 hours of golf!
They aren’t joking around up here! </div>
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We go back to dinner, me too tired from all my beach running
and massage relaxing to talk to anyone. I’m hungry, I’ve already been stemming
worry, and I didn’t eat dinner last night, which I'm determined not to repeat. We meet Patsy and James, and I’m
clearly making them sad not to chat them up. I feel so bad, but more than that
I have an instinct to eat dinner. We do get to talk them more later in the
evening, but I’m well aware that some silly survival instinct has robbed us of
some good craic. Sometimes you just have to be the tourist. We get another
glorious sunset. Ty gets to overlook his course, I get to overlook my beach. We
swap photos. We tell stories. We eat average food, but at least we are eating
food. As we are ready to leave, the bartender/hostess/waitress decides its time
to chat us up. We get a bit of the craic after all, and head home. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUj0GsZjXK2hpQVHvxIJxi9Zh_VYz7ZKCXmZaU10958dc2KgC9hdMCvI5UUgNQc7x3Kjw7nec7vuxlg1iUabHYFZP8fEPhpx1Lbq-KmrTEMYwhYRkxs-klOIcDfl7yOav-cCV72-0TF5Y/s1600/2015-09-29+19.27.50.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUj0GsZjXK2hpQVHvxIJxi9Zh_VYz7ZKCXmZaU10958dc2KgC9hdMCvI5UUgNQc7x3Kjw7nec7vuxlg1iUabHYFZP8fEPhpx1Lbq-KmrTEMYwhYRkxs-klOIcDfl7yOav-cCV72-0TF5Y/s400/2015-09-29+19.27.50.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-61691899725726863592016-01-19T22:25:00.002-08:002016-01-30T09:53:25.228-08:0010/1 – The long drive into the Pale (aka Dublin)<div class="MsoNormal">
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<b>10/1 – The long drive into the Pale (aka Dublin)</b><br />
<i>More photos <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219880311118516129&authkey=Gv1sRgCObPpYqCqbXE7AE&feat=email">here</a>.</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road trip leg 5 <a href="https://goo.gl/maps/xf5sYpH84582">here.</a> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Wednesday morning we get our last round of bagel sandwich
and oatmeal. Guess what? Now the waitress who’s been serving us all week
decides she needs to get to know us. Sometimes, it’s just about putting the
time in. We chat her up, and explain for the upteenth time what brought us up
this far out of tourist country, and head out. </div>
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We have one more stop before we
leave Buncrana: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g212531-d5001947-r179959558-Amazing_Grace_Viewing_Platform-Buncrana_County_Donegal.html">the
Amazing Grace memorial</a>. It was on the bay here that John Newton (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Newton">look him up</a>), then a slave
trader, was in a terrible storm and thought his ship would be sunk and he’d die
at sea. When this didn’t happen and they survived by the skin of their teeth,
he had a conversion experience and turned his life around, later joining the
priesthood, working to abolish slavery, and writing the Amazing Grace song in
remembrance of his miraculous boat-in-a-storm survival on Lough Swilly near
Buncrana. There is now a memorial set up to him, which we were excited to see.
It is, after all, the most famous hymn, written by a guy who did a pretty big
moral 180 and to whom society owes some thanks for being prodded to do the
same. Or, it’s a bunker looking box on the local yoga pants stroller-jogging
route, which no one pays attention to.
We did have some mysterious fog and clouds on the water there, and
lovely view of the old bridge on the river as it enters the Bay. But the most
interesting part was the seagulls pulling trash out of the trash can. It’s this
sort of irony that marked our stay in Buncrana – what sounded amazing and worth
traveling for wasn’t. What seemed commonplace turned out to be special and
worth all the hassle.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUlmqMRP6BOdHbd6ISwaCEIsABUoBfqsg_bTns2rlbWrFI-SScDP9GrpgUanAhOrr-y-HR5fyBTpzNLUi_8TM-fFsht4D9-rDt7hAdlonJvnV_F0X_QB47VjkDnadKvCdFDAAbUdYi9I/s1600/DSC_0762.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUlmqMRP6BOdHbd6ISwaCEIsABUoBfqsg_bTns2rlbWrFI-SScDP9GrpgUanAhOrr-y-HR5fyBTpzNLUi_8TM-fFsht4D9-rDt7hAdlonJvnV_F0X_QB47VjkDnadKvCdFDAAbUdYi9I/s400/DSC_0762.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsekhmUBZGmuWooe1LFEvDXUPFW2QIgZt5EquDWv-Eo3jLUgjBF8xwsMMALwYeWxScTmZYcbhq0h8R_ojJLKgW4RdgQNYzRHAG3j82lPx6gyF7vRZVb6nntd_Ujf0haEeWyXFpZFiVGlA/s1600/DSC_0763.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsekhmUBZGmuWooe1LFEvDXUPFW2QIgZt5EquDWv-Eo3jLUgjBF8xwsMMALwYeWxScTmZYcbhq0h8R_ojJLKgW4RdgQNYzRHAG3j82lPx6gyF7vRZVb6nntd_Ujf0haEeWyXFpZFiVGlA/s400/DSC_0763.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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On Wednesday after breakfast and Amazing Grace, we drove
many hours through fog from Buncrana to Dublin. So much for seeing the interior
of the country! The bits we could see through the fog looked about like
everything else, so I think we have the idea. I was worried Ty would be maxed
out by this much driving (almost 4 hours) but the roads were fairly good and he
was getting to be a pro. We had one or two mis-turns but nothing major. We
didn’t find a decent rest stop unfortunately as we wanted to avoid going into
major cities just for lunch, and the tourist attractions along the way charged
too much for a short visit. We ended up eating our deli sandwiches on a cold
park bench in the small town of Carrickmacross, which was full of school kids
in proper uniforms on lunch break from Catholic school - but nonetheless acting
like teenagers. It was an interesting break – seeing how similar teenagers are
across the globe. Flirting, teasing, ganging up and excluding, boasting,
giggling….all the same. </div>
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We dropped the car off at Dublin airport (unsuccessfully
trying to get our insurance money back), and took the bus in to downtown
Dublin. The bus was more comfortable than I expected but I still got a bit
sick. We were dropped off in the center of town, at the <a href="http://www.ireland-information.com/irishholidays-irishtourist/generalpostofficedublin.htm">Dublin
Post Office</a>, which we would only later learn was a major independence
landmark. We didn’t notice much history at all as it was far busier on a
Wednesday afternoon than I had anticipated. And despite standing on the same
street as our hotel, it was nowhere in site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out we were standing on the main thoroughfare, and the
hotel was around a corner on a side street – we found it and were again a bit
sad to check into a hotel instead of a B&B, although the <a href="http://www.arlington.ie/">Arlington Hotel at O’Connell Bridge</a> was nice
and large. The room was sparse but comfortable, the staff cool (temperament,
not hipster-rating) and city-like. We took a rest, then set out to explore
Dublin. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWYswCbpImADbuBovEoKuAO-IulTgVC8iI-PWEu75y_2dkdc8Y_w8FBzFeTtkB_cP0VIxnIvNqFkSqRPRoOgruFDreIM1cvtaj9rsgwt9vuD6FfkoDQ7g8mN18aSXrhZ0Rfjc0cWp7To/s1600/2015-09-30+17.34.45.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWYswCbpImADbuBovEoKuAO-IulTgVC8iI-PWEu75y_2dkdc8Y_w8FBzFeTtkB_cP0VIxnIvNqFkSqRPRoOgruFDreIM1cvtaj9rsgwt9vuD6FfkoDQ7g8mN18aSXrhZ0Rfjc0cWp7To/s400/2015-09-30+17.34.45.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Almost immediately, I was struck by how different Dublin was
than both London and the Irish countryside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the plus side, the people were incredibly diverse. On the
down, there were more of them than we’d seen anywhere on the trip. And it
seemed they were all smoking. The food shops were all fast food,
tourist-oriented pubs, or high-end dining. We didn’t really eat a quality meal
in town come to think of it. The city has a complex bus system we didn’t want
to spend time learning about (we were only there 1.5 days), so we only saw what
we could on foot. The touristy area is pretty concentrated so we saw most of
what tourists want to see in Dublin – but we also couldn’t ever escape the
other tourists. Additionally, the pubs all had live music, but it was all
Johnny Cash and Eagles covers. Nothing Irish that we could find despite two
nights of looking hard for a last bit of good music. Which isn’t to say the
musicians weren’t skilled – they were – but they were playing to their audience
and their audience was people who wanted to feel like they were still at home. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozpr7nCrv0wMzwneTKFfZouRinnDBTkG-3vVexu7BJtZ8JXBYFthfQ-kS-Y2KXi9-geNZyit6AE6qYwZx_uy26DtXajWZCLx_Yuoqon6mIS0ymIi3IVbSiCJpZQFXQUTjZSwWfcN39C0/s1600/2015-09-30+17.57.01.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GJglHLKCj2qhrJ7ACxo2Fpea2UQDUJnfLorHYM_frwMARTYFwL-j8xStUSVGf9YfM_LMUMdamGdUKdHJ2fowekFrmEWWvWn8p208YcYpTOqN9PDXc7ziQUMOiBVzw4Q_Y2rPRAw-UgQ/s1600/2015-09-30+18.23.21.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GJglHLKCj2qhrJ7ACxo2Fpea2UQDUJnfLorHYM_frwMARTYFwL-j8xStUSVGf9YfM_LMUMdamGdUKdHJ2fowekFrmEWWvWn8p208YcYpTOqN9PDXc7ziQUMOiBVzw4Q_Y2rPRAw-UgQ/s640/2015-09-30+18.23.21.jpg" width="640" /></a><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozpr7nCrv0wMzwneTKFfZouRinnDBTkG-3vVexu7BJtZ8JXBYFthfQ-kS-Y2KXi9-geNZyit6AE6qYwZx_uy26DtXajWZCLx_Yuoqon6mIS0ymIi3IVbSiCJpZQFXQUTjZSwWfcN39C0/s400/2015-09-30+17.57.01.jpg" width="300" /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We did find huge gift shops of all things Irish for gifts,
and crammed a few small ones in our remaining luggage pockets. A highlight was
the amazing archeology museum. We slow danced on Grafton street at the famous
busking spot (Ty humored me), ate lunch at Ireland’s oldest continuous pub, and
spent a long morning at the Guinness Storehouse. After a week in the country,
we felt overwhelmed by city life – but looking back we did see some amazing
things. </div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-59211846201122469542016-01-19T22:25:00.001-08:002016-01-30T09:53:39.404-08:0010/2 - Dublin and Friends<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">10/2 -</b> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dublin and Friends<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More pics <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=JRTadano&target=ALBUM&id=6219880311118516129&authkey=Gv1sRgCObPpYqCqbXE7AE&feat=email">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en/brewing-story">The Storehouse</a>
was a highlight of my trip to Dublin in college, and I was curious if I would
be as impressed a second time around, especially having spent so much time in
marketing and design. Would this be just another self-promoting tourist trap?
It was and wasn’t. It’s certainly self-promoting, but their branding and story
is so thorough and compelling, you end up rooting for the Guinness team before
you even get to the first exhibit. It rivals Disneyland in thoroughness of
execution – from the cobblestone walkways through old and still active
distillery warehouses to the thematic gift store. </div>
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There are striking displays
honoring and illuminating the ingredients, process, people, <a href="https://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en/cooperage-and-transport">tools</a>,
and history of making and <a href="https://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en/world-of-advertising">marketing</a>
Guinness. There is a seamlessness and authenticity to the displays that feels
more like museum than a company promotion. The displays are beautiful,
educational, and brief enough to not bog you down with information overload.
They engage the senses – from smelling the vapors of beer flavors to watching
water rush over your head and down an indoor waterfall. Lighting, movement
through the displays, graphics and color – it’s all been thoughtfully curated.
And the culmination of 7 stories of beer history is a pint of Guinness at the
top of the museum in a 360 –degree glass room that overlooks all of Dublin.
What a morning! </div>
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<o:p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6QzTweof6mUYxTg4zoEs6CAkweYHFtjMtv3sh8lDNeG0OaD0qPDLQegsSiQfPPWHPQVNKkIh_CtWPkpp6EBtn1rzXQVWkFA17QxhAgpq3ronauSXXgC00Sc-Bi2srgsz2wO3n1m_Ad8/s1600/2015-10-01+11.11.25.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6QzTweof6mUYxTg4zoEs6CAkweYHFtjMtv3sh8lDNeG0OaD0qPDLQegsSiQfPPWHPQVNKkIh_CtWPkpp6EBtn1rzXQVWkFA17QxhAgpq3ronauSXXgC00Sc-Bi2srgsz2wO3n1m_Ad8/s640/2015-10-01+11.11.25.jpg" width="640" /> </a></o:p></div>
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We stopped for lunch after this in the city’s oldest
continuous pub, <a href="http://www.brazenhead.com/">The Brazen Head</a>, dating
back to 1198. It was quaint and charming like they all are. We enjoyed the <a href="http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/209/160538/">Hop13 lager</a> –
made by Guinness but in a more micro-brew style. Hoping we can find that one
back home. </div>
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The National <a href="http://www.museum.ie/en/intro/archaeology-and-ethnography-museum.aspx">archeology
museum</a> was thoughtfully and tightly focused on Irish history, including
Norse and Neolithic histories. For a small, free museum they had amazing pieces
that could compete with The British Museum (obviously the smaller scope
helped), and with much more context and information. We saw 5 or so bog
mummies, which was truly disturbing. At the British Museum, you see a nice
curled up man who appears to be sleeping. Here we saw fractured skulls,
disemboweled stomachs, and a severed half body, as well as recreations of what
the person looked like in life. It was very intense. And, in some ways, very
Irish. </div>
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We also saw tons of stunning <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gold_working_in_the_Bronze_Age_British_Isles">bronze age gold jewelry</a> - apparently sourced from rivers and streams in Ireland as in CA. It was beautiful, ornate, and hard to imagine being made or worn in the countryside we’d just come from. We saw various burial chambers and paraphernalia, Catholic/Celtic Christian memorabilia, Viking armor and weapons, and a multi-point-of-view revisiting of Irelands oldest (but very misunderstood) hero story (<a href="http://www.museum.ie/en/exhibition/clontarf-1014.aspx">Brian Boru and the battle of Clontarf</a>).</div>
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We rounded out this surprisingly full day by navigating the
awful bus system to visit friends who’d relocated to Dublin earlier this year.
We’ve known Locksley and Miriam for a good 8 or 10 years, but most of that time
they’ve been busy moving around the world, with a few years living in Davis
sprinkled throughout. They are an amazing couple and family – their children
are charming and well behaved and just impish enough to be real. The kids seem
to be adjusting really well to the transition – not without bumps, but
considering I was having cultural-displacement meltdowns daily after just two
weeks, I can’t imagine relocating completely, at that young age, and also
adjusting to school, tests, trying to understand Gaelic-accented teachers, and
growing up all the while. They are champs! <br />
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Despite the long bus rides and worrying that getting lost
would cut into our time with the family, we did enjoy seeing “suburban” Dublin,
a real home, and eating home cooked food! It was a joy to see friends and catch
up, to discuss what we’d all experienced in this new place (our tourist
impressions, their new resident experiences), to share and pray for one
another, and to witness how strong their family is knit to relocate so
well. We also got to spend some time helping Miriam explore her
mysterious plumbing system – and hopefully give her some ideas for sorting it
out. European retrofit remodeling is both terrifying and inspiring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2361318437942275701.post-55073837535902636382016-01-19T22:25:00.000-08:002016-01-29T18:21:50.045-08:0010/3 - The trip home, post-trip reflections, tips and tricks for next time<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">10/3 - The trip home<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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We decided we are not fans of Luftansa – despite booking all
these flights with them, the leg from Dublin to Frankfurt was the only one
actually operated by the airline. Their online check in would not complete.
Their airport kiosks for check in were all broken (there were only 3 to begin
with). We stood in a long line with many people slowly checking bags, just to
get our boarding passes printed. We tried to use the empty Business Class line
– which had worked great for Aer Lingus when a similar printing-boarding-pass
situation came up, but Luftansa was firm – despite having operators doing
nothing in business, we had to join the 80+ people checking bags for economy to
check in. Boo. </div>
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The rest of the flight time was uneventful – and that’s a
good thing! We had a brief layover in Frankfurt but no real food was available
despite being dinner hour. We had snacks instead – pretzels, german beers, and
a small Panini from the coffee shop. The larger plane for our cross-atlantic
flight was a luxury, and United stuffed us with food along our nonstop flight
to SFO.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even the nicer plane
was hard to sleep on – at least we had room in the back to stand up and read
the news, look out the window at Greenland’s fjords, and stretch (or introvert
hidden behind the newspaper in my case). We also had overhead screens for
movies, phew! The movies were just right – interesting enough to watch, but
nothing mentally taxing (Inside Out, BBC wildlife documentaries, and Spy. If
you are really tired of traveling, Melissa McCarthy is just the ticket).</div>
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SFO customs was a bit redundant but fine. We had to fill out
forms on the plane, and then were told the forms had been abandoned years ago
by the customs agents. Our airport is not nearly as welcoming or interesting as
others we visited. Dublin has a great program to pre-clear customs in Dublin
Airport (while you are waiting for your flight anyhow), but because we were
landing in Germany along the way, we couldn’t use it and had to stand in line
with everyone else. The customs agents were tired, bored, or defeated – maybe
all three. It was a sad reminder of American work culture.</div>
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Lauren picked us up at BART and took us to our car at
Patrick’s. We chatted deliriously about the trip, then attempted to drive home.
I was a wreck and had to have Ty finish the drive. He seemed to switch back to
stateside driving pretty well. We may or may not have caved for Jack in the Box
on the way home. We had a sweet and tender reunion with Tana when we got back –
all three of us piled on the stairs and snuggling way more than she usually
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Post Trip Reflections<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The full breadth and depth of the trip took a good long while
to unpack. We did so much and saw so much – and yet still missed so much! We
watched The Silent Man when we got back, as well as <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117039/">Michael Collins</a>, which is an
interesting look at the IRA story with a star-studded cast. It was of course
not nearly enough of the full story but well acted and worth a watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also picked up the book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ireland-A-Novel-Frank-Delaney/dp/0061244430">Ireland</a>
by Frank Delaney. The plot of a young man searching for the wandering story
teller he met as child includes quite a lot of Irish history and folklore
storytelling, and is an easy but interesting fiction tour through Irish
identity. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Tips and Tricks for
next time<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Don't assume there will be entertainment on the flight. They expect you to use a mobile device now but log in is spotty. Airports have wifi!</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">You won't read your magazines, do the crosswords, or listen to Rick Steves. Do Rick Steves before yo leave, and leave the rest at home. Maybe bring one book. Long drives are for navigating and finding food, not for listening to pod casts. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Laundry facilities are probably wash and fold, so don't bring detergent. You can always use shampoo and the sink if need be. Laundry frequency is defined by undies and socks. Everything else is negotiable.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Medicine and toiletries are hugely expensive and hard to find. Make space for these when packing.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Power bars are worth bringing for flights alone - airports do not keep food courts open 24 hours. There's no way to check on meal service ahead of time either. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Even if the time change coming home means you'll leave the airport "midday," you'll be tired from the flight and delirious from the time change, so your body will be confused by the darkness. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Don't assume you can get food outside of regular dining hours. Remember Sunday is home day or closed day for stores and restaurants. Street vendors aren't a thing in Ireland. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People outside the US really are more friendly and help than here, but you have to initiate. So ask. </span></div>
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Julianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346491794246213788noreply@blogger.com0