Ireland, Part 11

Then we all packed up our things, went to the airport early, and went home.
The End


hahahaha!
thought this was going to go on forever, didn't you?

Part 10b, Dublin photos

There are some spots with really great graffiti around town.

A nice little park, with peices of art all around the edges. The colorful buildings are part of Dublin Castle.

A different side of the castle. Much more dignified and castle-like, but I prefer the colorful version.

A Tax Museum! The only museum we went to in Dublin, and then just because it sounded so unusual. It was pretty neat. There was a tax on bachelors. And one on dogs.

Winding around the city center there's some kind of self-guided historical tour. These panels in the sidewalk tell you where to stop, and there's always a pointy item showing where to go next. We were apparently going backwards along the route, but found five or six panels just at random.

The old market hall still handles fruit&veg. Only now with forklifts and trucks.

A long, long graffiti.

The front end of the same, with character.

You never know what you'll find enshrined in bronze.

The Hogeye Navvy concert audience at the library started out with pretty much just the groupies on our tour, but eventually filled out to contain just as many locals.

Carole and Ken took advantage of a last opportunity to dance on the trip.



At last, Ken got to call a contra dance!



Part 10, Dublin

In the morning I’m up much earlier than PubGuy, intending to do the stuff he’s not interested in on my own, then meeting up for lunch before a tour of Dubalin together and the Hogeye concert at 6. The phone book and the internet agree on the existence of three yarn shops in town. Not very many for a knitting sort of country. I’m sure I can hit two before lunch, and the third is really not very far, not far at all I swear, from the medieval quarter we’ll tour together.

The first one is a real knitters shop (that means a big shop with both high-end and more affordable yarns, lots of patterns and books, tables and chairs you’re welcome to occupy for ages, and a schedule of classes posted). Springwools is out in the suburbs, which online kind of scared me because I couldn’t figure out how far it was - could be all the way to Wexford, you never know. But it mentions bus service from three of the Dubin city lines, so how far can it be ?

I take one of those nifty double-deckers. When I have time that’s one way I go see a city - just hop on a bus and go where it goes. I’d love to sit upstairs, but I don’t know what my stop is going to look like and there’s no map. No list of stops. And if nobody is getting off and there’s nobody waiting, the driver just whips on by before you realize there was ever a stop there. The driver promises to give me a yell.

Which he does, and after only ten minutes, and he even asks me just what I’m looking for. How lucky can I get : he actually knows the very place, and I would never have found it without his direction. It’s tucked away in a light industry/warehouse area, way at the back of a shared parking lot. Easy to miss. Once inside I understand the choice of neighborhood, because the retail area must take up just a small part of the business. Mostly they do mail order and stuff.

Ohhh, I could take half their stock home with me !

Must.....exercise.....restraint......The luggage is only so large.

They’ll ship.

Don’t tell me that !

Here’s our brochure of summer sales. Our website in on there ; you can order from anywhere.

This is dangerous. In fact, I’ve found their website before but I don’t like to buy yarn I’ve never seen and touched in person. The colors are never quite right, and to knit a thing I have to touch every inch of it. And now I’ve seen it, and touched it, and it’s all good.

Escaping Springwools with only moderate damage to my wallet and space still in my luggage, I take the bus back to town, sitting upstairs this time, and spend an hour strollling about the high-end shopping district. My second target doesn’t open until 11:15 (boutique-yarn indeed !)

They have some nice things, but nothing from Ireland. It’s more the Italian-Japanese-American fare you’d find in the States. What interests me most here is the collection of books of shawl patterns (plenty of patterns at Springwools, but in fact there were so many it would take ages to decide on anything). I’m keen to knit a huge wrap of some kind, a project that will take me all winter to make and result in a really special warm wearable. I’ve got just the yarn for it now I’ve been to the other shop.

So from here I leave with a pattern book, just full of things I’m eager to get started on.

It’s noon : time to meet the Brotherman. He’s « not hungry », having closed down the Irish breakfast buffet at the hotel just an hour ago. I’m ready to eat, and our street is full of small fast-food and takeout places. Indian ? Fish&chips ? Burritos ?

Burritos ?

I haven’t had a good burrito in ages. So we do. And it’s quite good, with tortilla chips made right there, and an array of fresh salsas. Funny how many nachos one can eat without being hungry.

I don’t feel too bad about my eat-local rule - this is still food I can’t get where I live.

Now for Dubalin town. We figure we’ll wander up through the medieval quarter, around the castle, across the river to the third yarn shop, down around Trinity College, and eventually to the library where Hogeye is playing at 6. I’ll just give you the photo-tour of most of that.

In fact, I'll give you the photo tour tomorrow because I just found out I wrote this post on the wrong blog, and all the uploads have to be done again. RRRRRRR

Part 9, Back to Dublin

If it’s Tuesday, it must be time to head back to Dublin. Or Dubalin, as it is in all the songs.

Checkout time at the cottages is early, because Francis has to go somewhere this morning. It’s not a bad thing ; it gets us on the road at a decent hour with lots of time for stops and sightseeing along the way.

Between here and there is a freeway that’ll get us there in 2 hours. But there’s a green spot on the map just off our route, nearer the coast. Let’s go ! Wicklow Mountains National Park it is.

It’s a different kind of territory up here on the heights of the pass between the coast and the interior. Not a tree for a mile around on the windswept hills. One thing we haven’t gotten used to yet in Ireland is the smaller scale of everything, and the first van blows right past the parking area at the top of the pass, thinking it was kind of full and not that pretty and we could stop farther on. No, that’s it. Going down the eastern slope you’re quickly back into the forested lowland.

Near the end of the rapid descent there’s a beautiful monks’ tower in view. Let’s stop let’s stop. Of course.

We think we’ve found a little-known treasure, but discover that Glendalough is one of the biggest tourist attractions around. There’s a huge parking lot (only a handful of busses at the moment, thank goodness), a large hotel and restaurant, and plenty of bathrooms.

(overheard at the women’s room, the sound of several children’s voices : Missus Jones ! there’s no paper ! No paper !

Missus Jones : Sorry luvs, just do your best.

Passerby : There’s paper over here.

Missus Jones : ssh ! keep quiet or they’ll all want some.)

What have we here at Glendalough ? Beyond the hotel complex are the ruins of a small chapel, the monks’ tower, and a beautiful but much-trampled graveyard. An active graveyard, too : along the back are polished stones from just last year.

There’s a stream and a wooded valley and a trail to the lower and upper lakes. The walkway to the nearby lower lake is more a pedestrian highway than a trail, but D and I are bad, naturally, and leave the trail to spend a Maurice Moment in the humid calm. It would be lovely to spend a few hours here, time enough to reach the upper lake and beyond.

It’s unclear how long a stop we’re making. Some said 30 minutes because they were hungry and wanted to get to Dublin for lunch. Others found it terrible to stop in such a lovely spot, one we’ll never come back to, and leave without spending an hour. These people passed packages of cookies and apples purchased at the morning’s pit-stop around to the famished. That was all before we dispersed and discovered the size of the site and the qualities of the gigantic hotel restaurant.

Thinking the hour was up, and we will not be last to the vans, D and I get back ti find we have 40 minutes or so more, and look, plenty of tables on the patio. I’ll have a plate of chips and Darrell the root vegetable soup of the day. Soup and fries, how long can that take ? A very long time if your waitress brings your drinks and is then called away and neglects to tell the relief to place your food order. By the time we track her down, it’s to say Forget It.

Dublin. Delighting us tonight at the Unitarian Church are a fiddler and a guitarman whose names I forget but they’re favorites of Mac. The fiddler I really like, but alas he’s forgotten to bring his satchel of cd’s.

It’s very different hearing this music in the clean and uncluttered acoustics of the church. You can really hear it all without the distractions of people moving around, the clink of glasses, doors closing, bits of conversation. But while that distracting clutter is gone, so too is part of the ambiance. It would be nice to have a cider to sip, and to get more comfortable than this creaky church pew allows. It would be neat for other musicians and singers in the room to join in on a favorite old chorus. On the other hand, it is cool to have a good view of the artists and to be able to hear all they’re giving us, without losing any.

After the concert I opt for a last long soak in a tub, while D goes out with the die-hard Session seekers. Only one more evening left, after all - better get the pubbing in while we can.

Part 8, Bumming Around

Is it Monday ? Yes. An open day on the schedule. One van is going to Wexford and the Heritage Museum there. Another is going to see a stone circle near Limerick, a full day’s outing. Joe and Joanne in the Limerick van say they plan to find a Session for the evening, and so plan not to come back to the cottages until very late. No dropping people off here between the day outing and the evening music event.
The stone circles sound fascinating, but it’s too long a day. D and I have dinner ordered again, and we intend to be here for it. There’s no serving it tomorrow : this is our last night here.

Cottage pie on Wednesday was actually out third choice. Second was lamb chops (which have to be ordered from the butcher and thus take more than one day’s warning). First choice was rabbit pie.
We’re fans of rabbit, and haven’t seen it on any restaurant menu so far in Ireland. Yes, rabbit is in season at Croan Cottages, but it takes even more planning than ringing up the butcher. It has to be shot. That can’t take long - there’s a good half dozen plump & lazy buns in the side yard every morning. Then it has to be dressed, and hung for the rigor mortis to pass. And then it has to be cooked.

The planning is tight - our hosts are not only attending the Tall Ships, they’re spending a day on one, sailing around. So when Darrell and I received our cottage pie the other day and immediately said, how about rabbit on Monday, a whole thing got going. You can’t order fewer than 6 servings, for starters, so we started asking around, who wanted a little culinary adventure. Some said yes ! That will be different !. Some recoiled in horrer. Some declared there was Nothing on the house menu of interest (on the menu : cottage pie, venison, rabbit, lamb chops, your basic country food). Alright, stick to your sandwiches and chips.
Anyway, we had about 8 people interested and decided to order for 6 because some were just wanting a taste.
On our host’s side, wheels were put in motion. Wildlife was shot (Francis told me - there are plenty out there wherever you walk, but take a gun with you and suddenly, none.). Plans were arranged.

When this morning Joe said the van off to the stone circles wouldn’t be back for dinner, we saw all of our fellow bunny-eaters raise their hands for a spot in the van. It was tempting to join them, but we have this uncancellable plan... D and I will just have our rabbit on our own, and the others for breakfast or not at all. Two people assure me they’ll pay for their portions regardless.

It’ll be a nice, relaxing day hanging around. We’ve not been to the nearby Famine Garden, after all, and that Viewpoint Tower sign near Delaney’s Pub sounded worth a look.

So, what about this Famine Garden ? How to plant to prevent famine ? What to plant if you’re having one (plants to eat very quickly) ? A planting of edibles you’ll find all over the place, you just don’t normally think to eat them ?

None of the above. It’s a little memorial garden still not quite finished. Very calm and serene, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, County Kilkenny.

The turnoff to the lookout takes us to a neat hamlet, just a handful of houses near the foot of some hills. We don’t find the famous tower, somehow, but do find something better : a parking area and a trail head for a 2-hour walk up to the summit of the hills, complete with « megalithic tomb ». There’s even a guide for us ! The dog knows the way and every time we’re at a loss to find the next trail marker there he is, waiting. No sheep to herd today ; he’s got tourists.

It’s a pretty little hike between farms and meadows. When we get up to the crest we can see for miles. And what’s up here ? An altitude marker, of course. And the megalithic tomb. They must mean this beautiful circle of stones on the hillside looking northwest.

The others are driving for hours and hours to see a circle. We have one right here.

Satisfied with our outing, we spend the rest of the afternoon hanging around relaxing. Some knitting, some reading, some writing, some napping.

To top it off, the most wonderful rabbit stew. I go out to the garden to gather salad about 7:30, and Francis is out there uprooting a potato plant for our dinner. Now that’s some fresh food.

And wow, is it good !

Darrell has seconds, thirds, nibbles...