Ireland Redux IX: Journey's End

Recently I went through some old journals, and one entry from 2001 detailed a trip to Nashville with my sister.  It turned out, with just miles from our destination, we got very lost.  I had written that I would never travel with her again because we argued hideously.  Well, obviously I had forgotten that resolution...

It was about noon when we left Wicklow for Dublin, which is a little over an hour away, if I remember correctly.  Once we got into the city, guess what?  We got lost again.  This really left me with a bad taste for Dublin, which isn't really fair at all to the city.  Anyway, by some miracle (and after I had to get out of the way of a tram headed straight towards us because I was stopped on the tracks) we found our last B&B.  Only, there was a problem.  The plumbing had failed, so we were sent a few doors down to another B&B owned by the same family.  We checked in and were directed just up the stairs.  Well, just up the stairs actually meant four flights.

 Huffing and puffing (my endurance should be much better than this), we opened the door to a room with a single bed when I expected a double room.  Sharing a bed for a night is no big deal; we're two years apart and shared a bed for years when we were little.  What was a problem, though, was the heat.  This room was a sauna, and there was no thermostat, nor any discernible way to open the window.  We couldn't stay inside for long and went down to the pub on the corner for a pint, which extended into lunch, of which I had a very nice lamb stew.

Afterward, we walked around the block, which we had gotten a glimpse of after parking the car in a garage two blocks off from the B&B.  My sister got the impression that we were in a questionable part of town, but it was for one night.  Besides, not long had we been walking before we arrived at what had to be one of the main thoroughfares.

It was teeming with people, shops, movie theaters, and restaurants.  We had dinner here before returning to the pub for one last drink.  Then it was bedtime, and it would have been very difficult to sleep if we hadn't just soaked some towels and draped them over our faces.

We got a great start the next day.  We were on time and headed in the right direction for the airport.  But you know what?  We got to the airport, but I wanted to fill up the tank so I wouldn't get charged for fuel.  We passed the only gas station near the airport on a one way road and I was in the lane that led back onto the M50, but the wrong way, and it took a half hour or more to get going the right way.  My sister was in tears by this time because she was convinced we were never getting out of Ireland.

But, we did.  The flight was uneventful with the exception of my feeling ill after a margarita on board which made the rest of the journey (JFK to Detroit) home miserable.  It was good to be back, though.  I even unpacked before falling flat on my face into bed.  

It was back to work the next day and life as usual.  Why is it that I always expect life to be just a little bit altered when I return from vacation?  

Oh, and my sister and I decided that we're never traveling together again.  We mean it this time.

Ireland Redux VIII: Wicklow/Glendalough

The breakfast part of our bed and breakfast required a trip up the road to the Wicklow Heather Restaurant.  I have to say it was the best coffee I had had in a long time (and the next day I ordered a bowl of muesli that was perfect).  The full Irish breakfast was definitely prudent on this day, as we planned a trail walk at the Wicklow National Park in Glendalough and would need our energy.  We returned to the B&B to get appropriately dressed (which really consisted of changing out of my tennis shoes into a good pair of hiking shoes and grabbing a backpack with water and trail mix), then headed back the way we came. 

Our hostess had recommended a part of the National Park that was a little farther away, but once we found the first entrance with the Visitor's Center, we swung in...and spent several minutes circling the lot for a parking space.  The place was packed; this was obviously a major tourist attraction.  And why not?  It's gorgeous.

Ultimately, we parked next door in the parking lot of the Glendalough Hotel, which a lot of other visitors did, as well.

I had thought to go into the Visitor's Center to purchase a map, but something about the building deterred me.  Most of it was blocked off, both staff members were already pretty busy, and I didn't see maps on display to purchase, so we returned outside to checkout the trailhead map.  

We chose the Upper Lake walk, a two-hour "moderate" hike.  Well, it went mostly up, so it didn't really meet our idea of moderate.  And because we didn't dress for the uncommon Irish climate of seventy degrees (I really didn't expect to wear shorts, so they didn't make it into the suitcase), we were huffing and sweaty early on.  But, the views really were worth it, even if we were grumpy at the end.

 Feeling a little grungy and beat, but happy to have seen such beauty, we returned to the B&B to cool off, refresh, and not much later, it was dinner time.

We had made reservations at the Wicklow Heather, because it is known for its good eats.  We dressed a little nicer than our normal attire of t-shirts, tattered jeans, and tennis shoes.  I ordered trout, and got the whole dang fish, sans the head, scales and all.  That was a little disconcerting (I really do not fine dine), but it was tasty just the same.  Not as good as dessert, but really, when ever is the main course as good as the sweets?  

Satisfied and full, we went back to the B&B to rest up for our return to Dublin the next day.

Ireland Redux VII: Wicklow

The time came to leave Navan.  We filled up on breakfast, carefully reviewed driving directions to our next destination, and set out mid-morning.  I think it was about this time I let music be played in the car; until now I thought that silence would be the best way to navigate the roads (not that it was ever silent with my sister's running commentary on my driving skills).  Well, the addition of music (from my own mix tapes) actually served to calm me.  I kind of wish I had figured that out sooner.

Wicklow was next on our to-do list.  We both really looked forward to Wicklow because our B&B was supposed to be grand, with rooms that opened to the outside, like our own little flat, and was attached to a really nice restaurant.  There were also the Wicklow Mountains and cliff walks which, thinking we were closer to the coast, I thought meant sea cliffs.  I was wrong, but it was still something to behold.

The 90 minute drive seemed to go by remarkably fast.  We had to stop for petrol, especially since those mountain roads just suck it up, and I was glad I only had to fill up the tank once during our vacation as it cost a pretty penny, even with my small Accent.  

Sure, the roads got narrower and curvier, and my grip on the wheel got tighter, but the sight of the mountains just made me happy.  We passed numerous overlooks and I got so frustrated with myself for not stopping, so when my sister murmured something about how cool a sight was we were passing, I wrenched the wheel over and crossed a lane of traffic to park on the side of the road, which understandably freaked her out.  But still...

 And really...

 This was the place to be for the views, absolutely.  And remarkably, we found the restaurant attached to the B&B with little trouble.  

However, they checked us in, then sent us back to our car to follow a server one mile down the road to our B&B, which was unexpected.  Walking these mountain roads, while likely very common, as is cycling, didn't sit well with my sister and I, which meant we would be driving every where.  Of course, we should have been over the driving issue by now...

The B&B, Trooperstown, is a beautiful house and brand spanking new.  The lawn was still being landscaped, and there was still some finishing touches to be had inside.  We had issues with the keys, both to the house and to our room (which was upstairs and did not have its own entrance, after all), and felt foolish for all the number of times we asked our hostess (who rushed back and forth between the two B&Bs that fall under the restaurant ownership, called the Wicklow Heather), to help us.  I think we might have gotten the hang of it by the fifth or sixth time.

 We enjoyed the coffee and tea room and spent some time looking at the literature there on things to do in the area.  It was at this time that I realized the cliff walks referred to mountain trails in Wicklow National Park.  I made a mental note of a few trails I'd like to try, then studied the road map I finally cracked open more than halfway through the week.  I saw that Wicklow town wasn't far, so we made plans to visit that day and take the trail walk the next day.

After another successful drive, we pulled into a Park and Pay and wandered the busy town.  

It was pizza for us for dinner that evening and a pint at a pub down the road.  Again, no one in the pub, although the lounge and beer garden had a few more patrons.  There was one gentleman, however, who eagerly told us all about his neck of the woods and made a few suggestions about places to visit.  It really made me wish we had more than just two days there.  

As we were driving back to Trooperstown, it was in the rear view mirror that we saw the Irish Sea and had no chance to photograph it or visit it.  

Damn.

Ireland Redux Part VI: Navan Continued

The second day in Navan was set aside to visit Newgrange, a famous passage tomb.  After another hearty Irish breakfast of cornflakes, fried egg, bacon, sausage, toast, and coffee, we headed out for the Bru na Boinne Visitor Center (I would put the appropriate accent marks in, but I don't know how).  Well, as per our usual experience, we got lost.  About forty-five minutes later we nearly gave up when I turned onto a motorway and suddenly signs pointed the way (we discovered that signage in Ireland is hit-or-miss, especially in Dublin).  Relieved, since I really wanted to check Newgrange out, we parked and began a long walk to the visitor center from the parking lot.  

It was chaotic inside.  One of a handful of employees pulled us aside (likely to take pity on us because we looked so bewildered), and slapped two stickers on our shirts as we requested the three hour tour: Newgrange and Knowth.  Each sticker denoted the place and time the bus for each site left.  We weren't home free, though.  We still had to purchase the tickets and take another five minute walk to the bus terminal.  Luckily there was time.  

The drive to Newgrange was a short one, and I marveled at how cool and skilled the driver was on the skinny, bumpy roads.  As we piled out of the bus, Newgrange stood in the distance, 5000 years old with stories to tell.  

Well, in this case, the tour guide told the stories, and she told them well.  Most of the front of Newgrange is a reconstruction, but as true to the original as archeologists can tell.  We were able to go inside, but only after the color of our stickers divided us into two groups, since it is a narrow passage with not enough room for more than a handful of people.  My sister and I were in the second group, so we had several minutes to wander and shoot photos.

  When our turn came, I knew my sister would be nervous about the tight fit, but it wasn't so bad.  It was so much cooler inside than outside (Ireland had a "heat wave" during our week there of 70 degree temps).  The narrow passage opened up into a room with three small chambers.  The guide spoke about the possible uses of the chambers, pointed out some carvings, then smooshed us all into small groups on either side to demonstrate the approximate effect of the sunrise at winter solstice where the sun shines through the roof box (second photo above) and illuminates the whole passage, only one time a year.  Since only a few people can be in the passage mound at a time, they hold a lottery every year to select a lucky few to observe this incredible moment.  For us there was a light bulb to give us the general effect, but it was still pretty neat.

We had about a half hour between tours, so after returning to the visitor center, it wasn't long before we were boarding another bus destined for Knowth.  Knowth is larger than Newgrange, and has several smaller mounds, called satellite mounds, built around it.  Like the first tour guide, the Knowth guide was very knowledgeable and entertaining.  A young man, whom we had seen at Newgrange, walked along with our group and it wasn't long before we realized he was only acting as tourist, as at one point the guide had him (because he "volunteered") go into a hole in the ground and come out further along the path.  I can't imagine they would let just anyone do that, considering the potential liability risk (insurance agent inside of me talking here).  

Again we were able to go into the passage mound, and it was pretty incredible to see the layers of dirt and rock that had been carefully created to hold this structure up.

And though the edges of the mound had fallen over time, the ditches that were used in defense were still intact.

The "official" tour ended and we were on our own to explore.  We walked up to the top of the mound for a lovely view.

I admired the mowing techniques of the mounds...

...and just continued snapping photos until the bus arrived.

I really enjoyed Knowth.  I can't pinpoint why, but I did.  


We ate lunch at the visitor center then headed back to the B&B.  Again we rested before dinner, then headed out to a pub nearby, the Courtyard.  The entertainment book at the B&B suggested that there would be live music at the Courtyard, but we must have gone too early or there wasn't anything scheduled for that night, because except for the conversation and the television, the pub was quiet.  We had a delicious dinner, a couple of pints, and headed back to get some sleep before we started on the last leg of our journey before returning to Dublin to fly home.

Ireland Redux Part V: Navan

Reluctantly, we got back in the car on Wednesday.  We looked forward to the next leg of our journey, but the driving part was, well...

I had directions printed up through AAA and was determined to have no problems getting to Navan, County Meath, which was just over an hour away.  But, twenty minutes into the trip, we took a wrong turn and ended up in this nice, newly-developed area called Blanchardstown.  Since it was lunchtime, we stopped at KFC for a bite (yes, not authentic, but whatever).  I stared hard at the directions while I ate, thinking if I concentrated enough I would figure out how to get back on track.  Foolish, I know, so before we left I relented to the practical side of myself and asked the young men at the table beside ours for directions.  

It seems that we were headed the right way, after all, so a half hour later, we found our B&B without a hiccup.  The hostess' daughter checked us in as her parents were on their own holiday.  We got a spacious room with enough beds to accommodate a family, and a door between me and my sis should the need arise for solitude (which it did after a little argument the following day).  We rested then, since it was up the road, headed out to the Hill of Tara, the royal seat of the High Kings of Ireland. 

The roads to Tara were narrow and curvy, which spiked the stress level in the car, but we found our way without incident.  We made our way across the green, dodging sheep dung (they shared the same ground as the monument), and spent some time admiring the scenery around this ancient place.  

 After about a half hour wandering the area, we headed back to the parking lot.  Large crows weighed down the branches of the trees cawing at us.  It was loud and highly disconcerting.  A nice break from that noise was a gentleman sitting under the bus stop sign singing as he waited for a ride.

We checked out a gift shop, but then braved the narrow lanes back to the B&B where we rested again.  We spent more time than necessary vegging in our rooms, but we were that reluctant to get in the car again.

Once dinnertime rolled around, we walked into Navan to check out places to eat and ended up at a take-away/cafe.  Small and close, it's menu had simple fare.  I dug into a shepherd's pie, with which I ordered fries, er, chips.  That was way too many potatoes.

Afterward, we had a pint at the Stonehouse Inn.  We opened the door, expecting there to be a few people as it was late evening, but there were two men and the bartender watching and betting on horse races.  One chatted with us while we enjoyed our pints (my first Smithwicks, which went down smooth), but then it was time to go back to the inn for the night.

 

Ireland Redux Part IV: Dublin Town

The Guinness Storehouse had so far made our first full day in Dublin a success.  Next on my list to do was to visit Trinity College and see the Book of Kells.  An old family friend had moved to Dublin years ago and worked as a counselor at Trinity, and there was hope he would be able to get us into the Old Library for free.  I called him from outside the Storehouse and we made tentative plans to meet during a very short window of time just before the dinner hour, a short enough window that I knew he wouldn't be able to give us a tour, just say hello.  I hung up, thinking how he had really adopted the Irish tongue, and my sister and I started walking.

We had a handy tourist map of the city and made our way towards the Trinity College area.  We had a couple of hours before we were to meet up with our old friend, so we decided to visit the Old Library and then the Temple Bar area.  We walked for about a half hour and by the time we reached the university, the sidewalks were just teeming with people.  It was a busy spot in the city (I think everywhere is likely busy, though), and in the midst of the traffic, the noise, and mankind stood this old stone edifice. 

We went in through the front instead of finding an entrance closer to the Old Library, and I'm glad we did, because as a result we got to see more of the campus than we might have otherwise.  We snapped some photos then followed the sign to the Book of Kells.  I paid our way (Guinness is more my sister's cup of tea; the history and academia is more mine) and bummed that we couldn't take photos in the exhibit, or the Old Library, we entered the display room.

I admit that I don't know a lot about the Book of Kells, or of illuminated manuscripts in general, but they are things to behold.  The colors, the calligraphy, the age of these are remarkable.  There were videos playing in the exhibit, as well, and one documented book-making, which caught my attention.  What was more interesting, however, was the preservation room we passed on the way to the Old Library.  It was open so that visitors could see the work the staff does in repairing and conserving the rare books at the library.  This is what I would love to do, and imagine doing it at Trinity College!

Afterward, we scoured the offerings in the gift shop, I bought a coffee mug with the Old Library on it, and we went outside to see if we could contact our friend to meet up.  Unfortunately, he didn't answer the call and after about a half hour, we left campus.

Temple Bar is considered a trendy neighborhood full of shops and good food.  My sister and I aren't necessarily the trendy type, but we enjoyed a stop at a wine cafe where I had my second Irish coffee of the trip.  Then it was time to start the trek back to our hotel.  

The walk back took a while.  Some parts of the walk weren't exactly brimming with beautiful touristy sights, such as two teenage boys who broke a bottle over an old drunk man's head and blood dripped into his eyes as he stumbled away in an alley we passed.  Even the alleys and neighborhoods we had walked through on the way to Guinness seemed a little unsavory on the walk back in the dusk and light misting rain.  But, we made it back safely and rested before we decided to cross the street to dinner at an Italian restaurant upstairs of a pub, which we visited after dinner.

We returned to the hotel later that night in good stout spirits.  And an hour later, in our PJs, my sister decided she wanted another pint, so at midnight we went downstairs to ask the porter for a Guinness.

Happy that the second day in Ireland was better than the first, we prepared to leave the city the following day. 

Ireland Redux, Part III: Guinness Storehouse

Once I had gotten over the embarrassment of driving with the emergency brake on in the car rental parking lot, my sister and I set out.  According to directions I had printed from the Hilton website (my sister's kind husband offered his Hilton points for two nights gratis in Dublin), our drive should have taken no more than thirty minutes from the airport to the hotel.  

Traffic lights eased me through my first roundabout, and then we were on the M50 motorway.  But sis started in pretty early with concerns that I was listing too far to the left.  Every time I tried to use the turn signal, I set off the windshield wipers instead.  There were signs indicating a toll road, but no place to pay.  And for some reason, it took a lot of adjustment for me to get comfortable with speed limit signs in kilometers per hour, even though the speedometer was in kilometers as well.  Maybe I was just tired. 

But, we reached Dublin fairly early, so I knew that a bed and shower was only minutes away.  Except, we made a wrong turn somewhere, a very, very wrong turn.  As a result, what I most wanted to avoid occurred: I spent hours driving in the city.  Our hotel was supposed to be on the outskirts of Dublin, so this wasn't supposed to happen.  But one wrong turn became another and soon my sister and I were shouting at each other.  I turned into the wrong (right) lane twice, I got honked at more than I ever have, and it wasn't until a desperate call to the hotel three hours into the nightmare that we cooled it enough to focus on the directions given by the very nice desk person who probably couldn't understand how we'd gotten so lost.  We got to the hotel, checked in with barely leashed patience, and...took a shower and went to dinner.  It couldn't be helped; we were as hungry as we were tired.  And since we'd been up 32 hours, we knew once we went to sleep, we wouldn't wake until morning.

And wake we did, at a nice mid-morning hour the following day.  We promised each other that we would walk or take public transport in Dublin.  We were not driving until we left the city.  So, I got specific directions to the Guinness Storehouse, which was a 20 minute walk through alleys and neighborhoods.  This time, we only took one wrong turn, and then we were there.

For 15 euro, you can visit the museum, which documents the brewing process through multimedia, such as film, artifacts, and music, and receive a complimentary pint on the sixth floor in the Gravity Bar which provides a 360 degree view of Dublin.  

During the self-guided tour, there was also a half-pint sample, and an opportunity to build your own Guinness (which I was too chicken to do).  We ate lunch there, as there was a restaurant and cafe.  I had a very nice Guinness-enriched beef stew.

And my favorite picture from Guinness, because it says "Archive":

My sister spent a few euro at the gift shop and we left the Storehouse very pleased with our experience.  So far, it had been a much better day.