We return to heat and sunshine

We're back and we're tired.
Clare was an angel on the two plane rides and we actually got in 1/2 hour early.
The patron saint of air plane seats granted us an open space between us to spread out.
Bliss.
And for now, sleep.

Day 20

Clare turns four today. We woke her early to get out of the farmhouse with enough time to get to the Bunratty Castle and enjoy the folkpark. I made Clare her favorite peanut butter and jelly toast and put four candles in the corners, as is tradition in our house. She was nearly too tired to blow them out, but she made her wish and did her duty!

The drive North up to the Shannon area was rainy, but uneventful. We watched the hills roll by and the rain swish down. Along the way Tom saw about four properties he wanted, and we dreamed about Irish real estate the whole way through.

Clare was convinced that if she sang a little song that the sun would come out in time for us to enjoy the Bunratty Folkpark, so she began a little ditty. Sure enough, when we rolled into the parking lot, the clouds lifted and the sun shone. She sure was proud of herself.

Bunratty is a restored castle and grounds, and they have many thatched cottages that include period furnishing and interiors. We wandered the castle and park grounds, pet a donkey and a horse, fed some scraggly Irish wolfhounds, watched two plump and beautiful Irish women peel apples for pies, and ducked our heads into a few re-created Irish cottages.

After a beer or two at the original Durty Nellie’s pub just outside the grounds, we headed to the Bunratty Lodge to unload for the last time and rest a bit before dinner. Mary, the proprietor suggested a restaurant called The Red Door, and it sure didn’t disappoint. It was perhaps the most expensive meal we had had, but it surely was the best. After and appetizers of mussels, the stuffed chicken breast with hazelnuts and cheese, duck confit, fresh halibut, stuffed ham, and pasta for the tot were wonderful entrees. They brought out ice cream (with Jello underneath: a kid’s dream) with a candle, and Clare and Colin got to wish on their respective birthdays again.

Day 19

Day19: This was our last day in the cottage but we thought we’d try to go pony trekking if the weather held. We woke a bit early, drove over to a sign pointing uphill that said Dunbeacon Equestrian Center, and took the small road back into the valley forever. It was beautiful, but we were disappointed to not find anything.

We headed into Bantry with a flyer that promised pony trekking that I had picked up in town a few days back. We drove past the street we were looking for and looped back. Once on the right road we hit roadwork and a dead end. We looped all the way around the valley, crossed a lovely little lake, [Lough Bonine”] and wound up through the thickets onto tinier and tinier roads. Finally we came across a man with very few teeth leading two mountain goats directly towards us. Turns out he’s the proprietor of the trekking and small animal “farm” and he was disappointed we didn’t have reservations.

We were disappointed, too, when we pulled up the road to the “farm”. The horses looked miserable in small, dirty concrete stables, and the assorted other animals in their pens looked miserable, too. The Irish wolfhound laying in the driveway had a scruffy, matted coat and barely lifted his head when we arrived. A small beagle sat forlornly in the window of the glass house bench and stared unblinkingly at the ground. Six or seven other large dogs were barking from their pen behind stall # 7. Two goats peered around the corner of stall #1 and bleated. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and made it clear that we would not be TOO put out if they couldn’t work us in.

Saved by a car pulling up that held people with reservations, we bowed out and scooted back down the hill. What a bitter disappointment to go driving all over hell and back and then not go trekking, but what an even more deplorable situation for those animals! I felt depressed just being there.

We drove back into Bantry and decided to get out and explore the boot sale in progress. Fridays are evidently market days in most towns, and a boot sale is exactly like our garage sales, except those selling items stuff everything into their car’s “boot” (that’s what they call the trunk) and bring it to the town square to hawk. They can be quite the treasure hunts, and there are also stands where local artisans sell woodworking, glass, jewelry, plants, herbs, cheeses, honey, cured meats, and the like. What fun. Clare picked up some frosted glass pebbles, and Colin picked up some books and a clock shaped like a life preserver that says “Welcome Aboard”. Tom raided the funny Frenchman’s stall for marinated artichoke hearts and vegetarian dolmades.

We lunched at the Atlanta Café again (this time it was French onion soup and sandwiches) and wandered back to our car. We tried to find the local strand near our cottage one more time, but gave up on a rickety road that led to nowhere. It seems to be a running theme this trip.

Time to pack up, eat meatball sandwiches, and try to finish all the food in the fridge before we have to head out tomorrow morning.


téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 18

Day 18: You wouldn’t believe the racket cows make. The herd that is stationed in the field next to us have decided to trade gentle lowing for gut-vibrating honks, snorts, and near-donkey-like braying. One would wonder if they aren’t particularly pissed off about something.

They certainly weren’t happy with us last night (early this morning, really) as, in a slightly intoxicated state, Colin, Kari, Tom and I went outside at 1:30 a.m. to finally see the stars. Millions and millions of stars. There was actually enough starlight to photograph. Well, our quiet conversation unnerved Bessie and her friends, and they started yelling at us from over the hill. It rather sounded like they were saying “H---eeeyyy! HH---EEEYYY! Shut up over there!” That didn’t help our giggling and soon there was a ruckus of cows and people, them mooing ferociously and us dissolving into helpless inebriated laughter.

The weather blessed us with beauty this morning, and huge billowing clouds around the edges of the landscape look as though they don’t hold much rain. My stomach hates me from too much alcohol last night, so I stayed at the cottage and sent the whole gang to Barley Cove beach. I’m sad to not be there, but I’m sitting here staring out huge windows that overlook the Dunmanus Bay. A chilly but refreshing breeze is lifting off the water and the birds are falling over themselves to be the loudest singer. The cows are actually lowing, not bellowing like usual, and the collective hum of the bees in the fuchsia hedges in nearly a full-time drone. I hung laundry on the line and it looks like a bunch of blue and black sails are trying to cross the grassy courtyard. I’m watching the clouds pass over the distant hill, dragging shadows across its green and rocky landscape.

It’s nice to be alone. There’s such a difference between solitude and loneliness. I’ve been with people 24/7 for nearly two and a half weeks now, and I was ready to hear my own head humming for a while.
***

Tom’s trip to Barley Cove with the rest of the tribe proved to be filled with beauty and laughter. Clare and Tom introduced Kari and Colin to the wonder of the beach there. We brought our lunch so there was no reason to leave. We napped in the sand dunes and splashed in the tidal pools. Colin made Clare into a sand mermaid and we watched as the tide came in so rapidly that our little island soon disappeared beneath the water. The beach is a football field deep and very shallow. It makes for great frolicking for a soon-to-be 4 year old, not to mention the old fart she’s with!

Upon leaving Barley Cove we drove on further towards Mizen Head to the village of Crookhaven. The road follows the coast and winds its way past small bays and eventually to the village. The water is incredibly clear and an azure blue you wouldn’t believe is possible in Ireland. It looks more like the Caribbean than the north Atlantic. Crookhaven is the place to go for watersports in the area. There is sailing and windsurfing and jetskis and plenty of beaches for swimming and snorkeling. After coming home we all took naps then watched the Olympics in between Clare’s movies. We brought a few of Clare’s favorites, they have come in very handy when you need her to slow down and chill.
***
Lisa and Kari made a wonderful dinner of roasted chickenm glazed carrot, rosemary potatoes with a side of vegetarian pizza. We all got to bed fairly early.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 17

Day 17: After the lashing storm of last night, we didn’t hold out much hope for the weather today, and indeed it was still blowing gales well into the morning. But by noon it looked as though it might brighten up and we made plans, hell or high windstorm, to head north into Glengarriff to have lunch.

The Park Bistro is connected to the Glengarriff Lodge and Spa, and since we ate there with Bill and Cindy and Laura, we knew the food was excellent, and they had Wifi we could tap into. It did not disappoint. Clare ate a chicken-sundried tomatoes-broccoli plate of pasta with that was bigger than her head (thereby breaking the first rule of life). Tom and Lisa split the roast beef and burger (yum, and yum) and Colin and Kari each got a fine tuna sandwich.

After uploading more blog entries and chasing down our waitress for the check (why do they always go MIA right after they serve the food?) we noticed that the weather was clearing and settling a bit. So we hopped into the car and headed out the Beara peninsula to see what we could see. We had designs to go all the way to Castletownebere but just outside Glengarriff we pulled into a scenic stop and met Kevin, who owns a lovely little red and blue boat named Miss Ellen. He offered to take us on a half-hour loop around Garnish Island and past the seals on Seal Rock for “a tenner a head”. Now, everything around here costs a tenner a head to get in (it’s about $17) so we thought, why not!

We all piled into the little painted boat, and I took a death grip on Clare, as she was so excited her little butt couldn’t sit still. Kevin was a sweet man, and he navigated the boat gently around Glengarriff Harbor, and past the promised Seal Rocks (there was a one-month old baby seal sunning itself next to its mother). A number of sleek, dark, curious heads kept popping up out of the water to monitor our progress. The seals looked very fat on the bay’s abundant mackerel, and their plump bodies appeared taut with health.

Kevin chattered on amiably about the harbor, the golf courses, the birds, mussel farming, the water, California, and he pointed out the house of the actress Maureen O’Hara on the curve of the bay. As we rounded Garnish Island we could see the edges of the Italian garden and its structures. A Martello tower sat prominently in the middle of the lushly forested Island.

The bay was calm and the wind blew lightly, but we all could see a huge rain cloud scudding quickly towards us. Just as we finished our tour and were puttering back to the dock, it began to spit. By the time we were headed up the ramp and towards our car, the cloud let go. It was almost as though it were perfectly timed: “okay, let’s clear up for 45 minutes so they can relax and bask in the beauty of the bay, and then just as they finish, let’s get back to business”. We all commented on what a perfect little trip that turned out to be.

We clicked ourselves back into the car and headed down the peninsula towards Castletownebere and wound our way through little hamlets such as Hungry Hill and Curryglass and Adrigole. As we approached Castletownebere, traffic slowed and Gardai (police) redirected the flow around the city center. We didn’t remember our conversation the day before about Colin Farrell doing a movie in the city center, and it was too crazy with movie people and gawkers to stop and properly enjoy the town. So, we turned around and headed back! It was a lovely, scenic drive, and after stopping in Bantry for a few provisions, we decided we hadn’t seen much of Durrus’ seven shops, so we stopped first at The Sheep’s Head pub to check out the scene. It was respectable enough, with what looked like good food coming out of the kitchen. After we tested the Murphy’s beer to make sure it was up to snuff, we strolled over to Ross Pub.

I took a photo of Tom and Clare outside the pub for our friend, Richard Ross. Contrasted with The Sheep’s Head pub, Ross was totally old school. It was a 15-foot by 15-foot square room with ripped naughahyde low stools, three low tables, and about 8 seats at the bar. Every conceivable space was covered in posters and flyers, some many years old, some offering help building or mending fences (what a metaphor), and some for upcoming events. A dirty sweatshirt was crumpled in the corner and decades of eau-de-cigarette-smoke permeated the depths of the fabric-covered bench seats. There were many kids in the bar as well. This was obviously the “local’s” pub. We loved it. We tested their Murphy’s and Jameson to make sure it wasn’t poisoned or anything, and then headed off to the cottage for our evening repast.

Kari and I cooked up a nice meal of mushroom toast appetizers, roasted cherry tomato and basil penne, and a crispy salad. Whiskey, wine, beer, and Bailey’s flowed, and before we knew it we were outside at 1:30am giggling and looking at the great swath of stars arcing overhead. See the next blog entry for more on that, because technically, it was the next day.:)

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 16

Day 16: A lazy morning evolved into a lazy ham and eggs lunch cooked here, and then a plan was hatched to tour Skibbereen, Ballydehob, Baltimore and Schull. Since the day was partially sunny and the rain was only coming intermittently down every hour or so, we made the pretty drive through the first two cities, decided there wasn’t much to stop for, and made our way to Baltimore.

Clare was having a bit if an aneurysm from being cooped up by the bad weather and long car trips, so we found a playground for her to climb and run and let out some of that pent up energy. Colin and Kari climbed the main street into town and sat at an outdoor pub overlooking the wind-whipped bay.

After Clare got her fill of swings and things we made our way up to join them and to people watch the afternoon away. There was a large St. Bernard named Cooper wandering the streets and he got a scratch from everybody as he wandered by. We found it amusing that the kids were calling out “Look, mommy, a Saint Burr-nerd.” I guess you say potato, I say pah-tah-to, and these kids saw a Burr-nerd where we would have seen a Ber-nard. Also amusing is that fact that they say tah-mah-to and yet also say potato normally. Aren’t they supposed to match pronunciations?

The wind was really whipping the bay, but that didn’t stop a large group of young teenagers from jumping into their respective “lasers” and heading out into the brownish churning whitecaps. Tiny sailboats were darting about the bay, and the seabirds where wheeling to stay up in the wind shears. After deciding we’d eat “dinch” or “linner” in Schull, we made the rest of the drive over to this little town.

We had a nice meal at the Bunratty Bar at the top of the street in Schull, with Kari putting away an impressive amount of a crab salad, Lisa polishing off a shrimp sandwich and chowder, Clare finishing her fish fingers, Colin devouring a double burger, and Tom plowing through a steak and onion sandwich.

Afterward we walked to Gwen’s handmade chocolate shop and bought a few pieces of decadence for dessert. Tom and Clare had ice cream cones, and as we walked down the street to meet up with Colin and Kari, I looked up to see a huge double rainbow bending over the tops of the buildings. Of course, catching a rainbow on film (or chip as it may be) isn’t easy, but after a few attempts, it was captured, and Laura would be very proud of the results, though sad she missed it.

We had parked our car near the playground in Schull, so Clare got a second round of running about while Colin watched the boats in the harbor, Kari and Lisa threw a stick for a patient and extremely attentive Border Collie, and Tom supervised Clare’s forays into the jungle gym.

We returned to the cottage and rested a while, enjoying the dappled early evening sunshine, but shivering at the cold coming in on the persistent wind. While Clare watched her Animal Rescue DVD and Milo and Otis movie, Colin and Kari and Tom and I sat around the kitchen table and talked over a smorgasbord of cheese and crackers, sour apples and chocolate, red wine and whiskey, and the obligatory baguette with pounds of butter.

That night a raging storm moved in, with rain falling horizontally due to the gale force winds smashing against the house. It felt like we were on a boat due to our bedroom’s position at the end of the L of the house, and the winds crashed against the plate glass windows at the foot of our bed throughout the entire night. We figured it would pass over, but still it raged on, louder and louder throughout the early hours of the morning. It sounded as though the roof might come off, and the fierce rattling was getting even fiercer. Somewhere around 3 am, as we were still awake from the racket, Tom said “I don’t think I could live in this weather”. Poor dear.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 15

Day 15: Rain, spitting, mist, clearing, wind. Repeat. This has been the recipe for weather this summer in Ireland. Everyone is talking about how it’s the dreariest summer in ages, and how the weather has been declining into instability over the past few years. On the news this morning they said that they used to count on six weeks of beautiful weather in the summer, but no more.

Colin and Kari slept nearly until noon to replenish their bodies some much-needed rest. When they rose we decided to go into Glengarrif to have a little lookaround and get out of the house. After stopping at the recycling center and making a great racket crashing the bottles and cans into the recycling domes, we drove in the lashing rain to Glengarrif.

A stop in Quills netted Colin a linen tablecloth and napkins, and a stop at the Cottage Inn netted a zero in terms of lunch quality. On account of the rain we gave up the sightseeing and headed into Bantry to the Supervalue greocery. We should have a credit card there, we drop so much cash. The rain was simply gunning down when we left and continued to lash when we arrived home.

Clare had, as is usual, fallen asleep just 5 minutes from the cottage, and I sent everybody inside while I sat with her in the car. Usually she’ll sleep 20 minutes and roust about, ready to go, but after an hour, she was still zonked. I was quite enjoying myself, thinking and resting in the car, protected from the Irish rain, while holding her head and hand. When the hour was up I went inside and put her in my bed, where she slept for another hour. At seven pm we finally woke her. I think, like Colin and Kari, she needed to catch up on sleep.

As evening neared Colin sat in the front window which overlooks Dunmanus Bay and worked his watercolors. Kari sat peaceably beside him, knitting the beginnings of a rose colored scarf. Clare whipped up a few beautiful abstracts in vivid brushstrokes with her own paint set. Tom rested while watching the Olympics swimming excitement, and Lisa typed away, trying both to catch all the little quiet details that make a vacation an experience, and also in attempt to flesh out a few exercises for both her English classes this fall.

After a tickle fight between Colin and Clare, we had a lovely dinner of rose-colored trout, barely steamed broccoli, and basmati rice with a lovely little Semillion-Sauvingon Blanc for dinner. Lisa picked up a nice little pear and custard tart earlier at the supermarket and that finished off a nice meal.

More rain is forecasted for tomorrow, and people are being advised to stay off the roads, so we don’t know quite what to plan. Probably it will be a trip to Mizen Head to see the cliffs. The weather here is almost as fun as it is in Italy. Whereas the Italian version of delivering the weather is to shrug, point, wave about the hands while pointing at numerous unintelligible symbols on the greenscreen while speaking for many many minutes on end, Irish weather is a sheepish young newscaster huddled at the edge of a large green island covered in black cloud symbols, most with sun peeking out. He or she will say: Showers today, heavy at times, with spells of sunshine. Heavy downpours and periods of sunny clearing will continue into the evening. For tomorrow: more of the same. Tom and I look at each other and giggle every time.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 14

Day 14: Today Mom and Dad and Laura left for their B&B in Shannon: the Bunratty Inn. Lisa kept saying how weird it feels for one half of our caravan to be getting on the road and heading in the opposite direction. After weeks of elephant-chain driving, it felt like we split the herd!

It should be interesting to see how Cindy deals with the proprietor of the B&B; when we sent Eric up earlier in the week, she had promised that the bus brought passengers all the way to her stoop, and in fact, that was not the case. The bus stops at the Bunratty castle and the driver said they don’t go as far as the B&B anymore, so Eric plopped off the bus in the middle of nowhere with all his luggage and walked to the damn place. Mom and Lola were absolutely livid, and Lisa was so sick with worry and frustration that she couldn’t speak. It doesn’t feel good to know a member of your “family” is out on a wet Irish road dragging a suitcase behind him on his way to god-knows-where without a map and in an unfamiliar town. We thought the only thing he had going for him was the fact that everyone spoke English and that he’d have a really great story for his kids one day: one time I was dropped in the middle of a glen without a map with all my worldly possessions and had to WALK FIVE MILES THROUGH THE WOODS WITH NO SHOES ON IN THE RAIN!

What an adventure. Let’s hope that woman has a new rear-end in her closet because she’ll need it when Mom’s done with her.

*
So anyway, they got in their car and headed in one direction, and we got in ours and headed in another. Weird. I kept looking in the rearview mirror for their car until my neck hurt and Tom said “They’re not there, Sea”.

It was rather like this feeling we all had during the trip (from day one, really) that someone was missing. Every time we’d round up the group someone would say “Who’s missing?” with the sense of genuine loss, not just in passing comment. Sometimes we would decide it was my late grandparents following us around as we explored, and often someone would sing out: “Oh, it’s just weird because Lenay’s not here!”. We kept looking for her everywhere. Even at Barleycove Beach, when a woman asked if she could take a picture of Mom, Laura, and Lisa, Lisa had to hold out her arm and pretend Lenay was there, just like Lenay did 12 year ago in Milan when Lisa was missing from a group picture.
*

We were making some hairy turns into the city center of Cork when Colin and Kari called to say their train was in and they were waiting for us at the station. Luckily we were two turns from them and we rounded into the parking lot just as they were walking out to the waiting area. To say Clare is glad to see Kari is like saying it always rains in Ireland. Of course. Kari plays all the games, Kari colors for hours on end, Kari will look at the Littlest Pet Shop brochure until she has memorized all the characters, Kari will sit very still while Clare covers her in princess stickers (face, forehead, forearms, etc.), and Kari will sit even stiller as Clare peels off everyone of said stickers and returns them to the book. Colin is a great diversion and a good snuggle, but if the sun comes up in the morning, it is over the halo of Kari.

We drove to Blarney after picking them up, and had a bite to eat at the Woollen Mills cafeteria. From there we walked them over to the entrance of the Castle grounds and directed them inside. We thought we’d kill a few hours shopping and wandering around, and just as we waved them off we saw a sign that said:

Ice Cream
Smoothies
Sandwiches
Internet
Coffee Tea
Snacks
Umbrellas

And what a glorious sandwich that word Internet made! Tom ran to get the laptop out of the trunk and we sat down to upload those last few blog entries and pictures from days 1-8, did some banking while drinking lattes, and enjoyed the tiny little shack of a café. They had a sweet outdoor garden. While we watched through the glass doors, Clare busied herself with entertaining a small baby named Imogen by showing her her hair clip, tossing rocks in the air, and making “conversation”. After Imogen and her mom Clare left, Clare found a bright yellow, 3 ft tall slide and busied herself for the next 20 minutes sitting at the top while her feet touched the ground, and “sliding” all of three inches. Then she’d climb up and do it again. It’s wonderful to have a child that’s so easily entertained!

We went over to the Woollen Mills to finish up our last minute shopping and met up with Colin and Kari. The drive home to Derryfunchion was rainy and dramatic, with huge grey clouds scudding through the sky. Luckily it was Sunday and everyone decided to stay home because the wet roads were fairly empty.

After settling in to the cottage, Clare and Lisa snuck up the road to see where the HUGE black cows went that had been standing at the gate at the head of the driveway when we pulled up. The field looked curiously empty now, and we couldn’t see much because of the high hedgerows that box in each field. Well, about halfway up the wet lane we got the scare of our lives. We had been walking very far to the left, peering occasionally over the hedge to see what we could see. On our last nonchalant peek over the top, we came face to nose with the largest cow we’d ever seen! And the MOOOOOOOO it let out at being startled by us was so booming that it rattled our chestcages. Turns out they had retreated upfield when they saw our car pull in, and now here they ALL were, and they were none too happy at being startled! I yelled out “Holy Shit!” (which Clare promptly repeated), and jumped to the other side of the road all in one leap, a task made difficult by the fact that I was carrying my 40 pound child on a slippery, steep incline.

All the cows started mooing then, and we were quaking in our boots because we weren’t so sure they wouldn’t startle and charge the fence. After quickly assessing that there was a stone fence under the tangle of brambleberry bushes and ferns, we got close again and Clare got to see up close and personal what the inside of a cow’s mouth looks like when she chews her cud and moooooos. It was a field full of mothers and babies, and they stood and stared at us as we stared at them.

We repeated the same scenario when Colin and Kari and I went up the lane again. We decided we were getting hungry and drove into Bantry to see what was open. The supermarket was already closed, but a tapas place called Il Gitano we saw a few days ago had candles burning in the window, so we tried that. Again, there was an interminable wait but the food that came out this time (as opposed to the Good Things Café’s uneven reception) was uniformly delicious. Salmon with mussels, fennel, and sesame carrots was delicious. Thai style mussels in coconut cream were excellent. Salted prawns and baked chorizo were very tasty, and a plate of chevre and red pepper pasta was creamy and divine. Split amongst all of us, the food was a tasty diversion from pub food.

We didn’t get home until nearly 10pm, and bed and sleep beckoned.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Pictures for Posts

Spotty internet availability prevents us form properly posting, but I've posted a lot of pix from days 1-8 so go back and ogle if you please.

Mom, Dad, and Lola left today. I hear mom cried all the way to Bantry, and I was furiously cleaning the house to prep for Colin and Kari, and holding back tears of my own!

I'll miss 'em and their adventure-sharing attitude.

Love,
Lisa

Day 13

Day 13: There was a lashing storm last night, with gale force winds and torrents of rain at times. Cindy though she heard flying sheep hitting the walls somewhere around midnight! It was entirely grey when we awoke this morning, a uniform blanket of swirling mist. It’s almost like being on a boat up here… you feel unmoored from the land around you.

We made up some thick oatmeal and drizzled it was the brambleberry sauce that Mom cooked down the night before. Somewhere around noon we decided Indian food sounded good, so we drove into Bantry to find some. Unfortunately it was closed, and we wandered around a bit to see what was out there. We found a little place called the Atlanta B&B and Café. The prices looked too good to be true and the food turned out to be super excellent. Laura had a spicy tomato and meatball soup, a huge chicken and cranberry sandwich, and helped to polish off the two desserts we ordered. Cindy and Tom’s Beef and Guinness pie was good (though Tom was searching for meat) and Lisa’s salmon over noodles was a nice change from the ordinary. Clare had a lovely melty ham and cheese sandwich with a boat of French fries. Bill had a steak sandwich with yummy horseradish sauce. Hot chocolate cake and buttery apple tart with heavy cream were the caps to the meal.

We wandered through Bantry a while then, poking our heads into jewelry shops and cute boutiques. The rain was pretty steady and we finally decided to duck into the Biggs Superstore (the equivalent of Ralphs) and get provisions for dinner. This whole shopping every couple of days thing is hard… we really could use a proper refrigerator to hold enough for six people. As it is, a quarter gallon of milk is all that will fit in the door. With a six pack of Guinness taking up daily space, it’s prime real estate in there.

Speaking of real estate, Tom’s got the bug. Every window that has houses, farmhouses, derelict buildings, or commercial spaces for sale is an occasion to pore over the details and dream about the little hamlet on an acre in some backcountry glen. The prices aren’t as astronomical as in years’ past, but they aren’t cheap, either. It’s hard to imagine what one might do to keep income coming in, as most of these places are so far off the main roads that the only people that might pass by are the burly old farmer and his scrappy sheepdog. I’ve decided that if we move here for a half a year, I’m going to do alpaca or llama farming and put up a good competition for the woolen business here in sheep country. It’s either that or goats for cheese, and Tom’s terribly allergic to that idea ☺.

Tonight Cindy, Clare and Lisa went brambleberry picking. Nana showed Clare how to pick without being snagged by the bushes. Clare and Nana recalled seeing a sheep caught up in the brambles the other day, but it freed itself after much yelling and struggling.

Dinner this night was Guinness Stew made by you-know-who and salad and bread, as is the running theme here. It’s hard to vary it too much, as basics are so expensive. We might just get crazy next week and throw in some pasta or rice here and there. Woo hoo! With Kari being a pesci-tarian, we’ll have a bit of planning to do about that.

The weather turns again this evening. The clouds and rain have moved on; the sun makes itself known around 7 at night, [it’s daylight until 10:30 here], tomorrow will bring better weather. The news tells us that parts of Dublin are flooded and the roads have problems up through the midlands. You don’t come to Ireland for the weather. It’s the land and the people and the experience. Nevertheless, the weather is on everyone’s mind, the Irish included, they haven’t had a summer like this in recent memory.

Cindy, Bill, and Laura pack up tonight for the drive up to Shannon and their stay at the Bunratty Inn Sunday night before their VERY early flight out Monday morning.

Colin and Kari arrive tomorrow, the second wave of our family in Ireland. They have been in Dublin for the past few days. We’ll pick them up in Cork tomorrow and take them to Blarney, then on to our farmhouse.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 12

Day 12: This morning we slept in until 8… as long as Clare would let us. The wooden floors in the front half of this place are so hollow that her footsteps are amplified like vibrating bongo beats that bounce off the thick stone walls. We didn’t have much to do until our lunch reservation at 1:30pm at Good Things Café, so we lazed about and cut flowers and read from our respective novels until the sun beckoned us out.

We headed over toward the North side of the Dunmanus Bay peninsula toward Aghkista and stopped at the Catholic church and graveyard to nose around amongst the headstones, a particularly favorite hobby of my Mom’s. We noticed that all the plots faced a certain direction, even when it seemed more prudent for them to face another. We puzzled over that one until the rain called us in to inspect the church nave.

Laura got a chuckle out of the fact that there weren’t real candles in the altar where you pay 20 cents for a push button that lights up a LED bulb that flickers convincingly like a real flame. Cindy took pictures of the painted interior and we read all of the flyers posted on the walls.

Our lunch at Good Things Café was a mixed show: we waited ages, and AGES for our food, and while the items ran the gamut from serviceable to superb, I had expected more from a place that had been so highly touted. We waited nearly an hour for our first course of food, and had to stop drinking our cider and beer to keep from getting tipsy for our drive out. By the time the second course came out, we were writhing in our seats and half our party left for Bantry to get some errands done!

Tom and Cindy had huge (like 14 inches across) pizzas made with a thin wheat flour cracker crusts that were topped with bitter greens and loads of local cheese. The center of the mess got very soggy very quickly and one had to fold over and over the center until it was manageable. Laura and Tom had a vegetable soup that was a puree of greens and some other unidentifiable veggies. It came in a beautiful hot tureen and was tasty but overwhelmed by the backtaste of mint. Lisa and Bill had roasted haddock over braised tomatoes and roasted potatoes. It had a slightly spicy undernote with a strong cumin base. Very tasty. Very hot. The bread was served out of a large round basket and your breadplates were polished slabs of slate set around the table. But the bread came once and then not again. The handmade cider Laura and Lisa were drinking was divine. Like apples exploded but not sweet. The Irish Red Tom was drinking was very nice, too… seemingly sweet with a very hoppy, dry finish. Overall, we went in with high hopes which were killed by the interminable wait and uneven reception of the food (the fact that the average price for an item was $20 didn’t help). I had such high hopes for the experience, and while I wasn’t disappointed, I wasn’t overwhelmed with goodness, either.

After we left Good Things, we headed down to Schull (pronounced Skull) to explore the town. What a pretty little seaside outlook! With boats bobbing in the harbor and a two-sided mainstreet that was dotted with a mixture of old-style pubs and modern shops that actually had interesting items, Schull was a nice stop. Tom and Laura and Clare had chocolate cake, apple tart, and lemon tart with heavy cream at Newman’s (which has Wifi service, by the way), and it was some of the best desserts we had ordered! Then as Laura and Lisa wandered up to the top of the mainstreet, we stopped at a handmade chocolate shop that also sold tea and handmade ice cream. Seeing as how we had just consumed more sugar that humanly necessary, we were busy debating over going inside when Bill and Cindy drove by and honked! We waited for them to park and then decided to go into the shop after all. $12 later we were set and we walked back to join up with Tom and Clare downtown. Clare had spied a playground and made herself at home there. She made friends with some other kids and bounced back and forth between all the swings, slides and teeter-totters.

We returned to Derryfunchion and after watching some of the opening of the Olympics, Cindy cooked up a pork loin with potatoes, carrots, crispy salad and zucchini and butternut squash. Tom went to the garden and found some artichokes. A long slow simmer in 2” of water brought them to the table. Laura has decided that it takes an entire broiler tray of baguette to satisfy our troup, and buttered up the town.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 11

Day 11: Today we decided to go to The Ewe, a sculpture and experience garden that we had seen on the way back from Kenmare the other day on our crazy drive home from Killarney. On the road there were huge misshapen blue hands pointing the way and a sign that invited you in. When we got there we were greeted by a sheltie-mix dog, and the sound of roaring water. Turns out these two artists, Sheena Wood and Kurt Lyndorff, bought a house with a river and waterfall running through it and have carved out the steep hillside to install around 50 sculptures of cement, found objects, rebar, chicken wire, glass, plastic, leaves, branches, and other ephemera.

There’s a fish riding a bicycle uphill, a giant snail leaving a glittering glass trail, outsized purple chairs with gargoyle heads attached, mirrored waves on posts, a giant cement pig bathing in a cast iron tub by the creek (had to take a picture of that one for Rick), giant metal children waving their arms in the wind, and multiple spots to sit and play primitive games set up strategically around the property. We had to cross the roaring river on a slatted wooden bridge made slip-proof with nailed down chicken wire, climb steep steps carved out into the hillside and spiral up and through the property. It was very pretty scenery and that made the kooky sculptures even more fun to look at. A laminated guide told two-line stories behind each piece.

Bill’s favorite piece was the huge snail trailing glass slime, Cindy’s favorites were the chairs, the fish riding upstream, and a very large black maiden covered in a black blanket sleeping on the forest floor. Laura and Tom particularly liked a piece constructed inside a famine ruin found on the property. It had an iron bed with a sleeping figure done in plants in the center. Clare loved the many games set into the large boulders. One of Lisa’s favorite pieces was called “Felix’s Helix”. It was almost hidden in the forest floor, but it was made of two months’ worth of plastic milk jugs used for a family of four. Flattened and strung by their handles on a steel post, they spiraled into the deep green of the tree canopy. It looked like a piece as elegant as Willie O’Leary would make. It was also an interesting comment on consumption and waste. A lot of the pieces had the same theme, and signs posted along the route called the viewer to contemplate his or her impact on nature with consumption.

Just as we were leaving The Ewe, the skies opened up and poured, even though it was quite sunny in spots. We drove on to Glengarrif, stopping along the way at a roadside recycling center (huge plastic domes where you stood and sorted out your green, brown, and clear glass, aluminum cans, and food cans). We don’t have “rubbish pickup” at our Derryfunchion cottage (told you it was backwoods!) and we have to sort out our recycling, compost our scraps, and then take the rest to the dump, where we are charged 8 EU per large black bag to dump our trash. Of course, Tom has figured out that many pubs keep dumpsters open in the back, so we have yet to experience that joy of paying someone to take our rubbish away.

We stopped in Glengarrif to lunch at the Glengarrif Lodge and Spa called the Blue Pool, and had chowder, roasted tomato salad, Guinness, and lovely burgers and hand-cut fries. We sat in a strategic spot in the hotel restaurant where if we turned the computer at JUST the right angle, we could tap into the Wifi and upload those first 8 entries of the blog.

After lunch we went next door where they had an excellent selection of kitted woolens, blankets, coats, and other beautiful objects. It was the first place with very high quality objects (read: expensive, like between 100 to 500 dollars for a one-of-a-kind coat) and not just the usually tourist drudgery we’d been encountering. Laura and Lisa both got a blanket, and Clare, for being SUCH an excellent girl during all our long and windy car rides got a tiny fuzzy seal, which she named, of all things, “Furry”. We wandered the town a bit, this not being particularly hard to do since it was all of two sides of one street, saw the most beautiful police station ever, and bought postcards to send home. They may never get in the post, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. Tom and Clare found a gallery that actually had some very competently painted and good Art! The Katherine Hammond Gallery. The work inside was mostly representational but handled in contemporary techniques. Tom left his card.

Then we drove to Bantry for groceries again (with a three foot tall fridge and no freezer, we can’t rally “stock up” for our party of six) and then on home to enjoy a cheddar, brie, Nutella, heavy-jack (very thick crepes), water cracker, whiskey and wine repast out on the grass. It was still gloriously sunny, with big puffballs clouds floating into the distance, but the wind was picking up.

We roasted a huge chicken for dinner, and while it didn’t surpass the excellence of the Italian bird-of-all-birds we had in Positano, it was perfectly serviceable stuffed with onions, lemons, and rosemary. Roasted over a bed of onions and fresh carrots, it made a heavenly smell in the cottage, and we dug into it with great gusto that evening. A crispy salad and baguette slices buttered more than probably is healthy, completed the meal.

Tom was trying to stay up late to see the stars, but seeing as how it doesn’t get dark until nearly 11pm, he gave up and went to bed. Laura ad Cindy probably got a good view though, as neither one of them could fall asleep this night.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 10

Day 10: Today we decided we weren’t going anywhere. Cindy and Lisa made pancakes, and we all gathered around the table around 11am for our breakfast. (In some cases second breakfast!) Then we noticed that it had been sunny for longer than 45 minutes in row! All of the sudden we decided we WERE going somewhere and jumped in our cars to head for Barleycove Beach, just on the tip of Mizen Head.

Billed as one of the cleanest blue-flag beaches in all of Europe, it is a popular spot of tourists and locals alike. We took the time back roads there and just as we pulled into the parking lot the sun broke though the last of the clouds and shone gloriously on the bay.

There was a long walk from the parking lot to the beach, and we had to pass over a long winding boardwalk, dunes sprouting yellow daisies and thistles, a squishy pontoon bridge, and a tidal plain. When we finally reached the beach it was a huge expanse of clean sand and wide ribbons of tidal pools from the receding water. Everyone who was local was either in one of two extremes: a Speedo or a wetsuit. Those in a wetsuit were headed into the freezing water and those in a Speedo or bikini were lounging on their towels.

We stripped Clare down and put on her baby-suit as she calls it and she bolted toward the tidal pools with her bucket, shovel, and Tom in hand. Bill settled into the nest of towels we had brought, Lola and Cindy lolled momentarily, taking pictures and soaking up the scenery. Lisa went out early to inspect the tidal pools and found huge cream colored limpet shells and fragments of purple and green slate rocks.

Tom hung out with Clare for a long while until turning her over to Nana to bury in the sand. They decided to make a mermaid out of Clare. Bill and Lisa were now snoring loudly on the beach, and Lola was still photographing seaweed and water ripples.

On the way back to the cottage we stopped off at a small cemetery we saw from the side of the road and took pictures of the headstones and crosses and ruins. A small stream ran down the side of the glen, and the gate groaned like a ghost as we opened it to enter and exit.

By the time we got back to the cottage it was 5:30pm and we were all famished so we set about busily making tuna sandwiches, reheating the beef and barley soup, cutting up cheese, and reheating pasta. Along with a couple of glasses of white wine, Jameson’s and Diet Coke, the meal was a resounding success.

Still trying to capture the last of the sun’s rays before a huge thunderhead cloud swallowed them up, we pulled sun chairs and lounge chairs out onto the front grass lawn and threw out blankets to loll about on. There was some talk of heading into town for ice cream, but then someone mentioned that today was the first day in 11 that we hadn’t spent any money. So we kept it that way!

Out on the grass Clare tried for many many minutes to get Laura to do her impression of a sheep Baaaaing, but Laura refused. See, the impression calls for her to shake her head fiercely back and forth while letting her tongue hang out while yelling BBAAAAAA, and seeing as how it would make her look momentarily like an idiot, that just wouldn’t do. ☺

Day 9

Day 9: Today we split up into girls’ and boys’ teams. Cindy, Laura, Lisa and Clare went on a drive North to Bantry and Killarney. Tom and Bill drive halfway to hell and back to go pick up the missing CD/DVD case and Clare’s pink backpack, which had both been left in a drawer by miss-thing-herself in the Thornbrook House B&B.

Since I was in the car with the girls, I can only account for our day, and it went like this: we lazed around for a while after the boys left and then decided that the Bantry House might be a good diversion and we headed up the N71 for a look around. We got there about 11am and we were darn near the only ones in the parking lot. A light mist was falling (and continued to fall all day, making it what the Irish call a “soft” day) and we decided to see the gardens before the skies opened up.

After paying our 10 EU entrance (why is everything so dear? 10 EU is about 16 dollars per person!) we walked back to the rear of the mansion to the extensive gardens. What a treat! It was very gorgeous, with a large central wisteria covered trellis surrounding a small fountain topped with spouting fish. Gravel paths wound in and out of clipped hedges and led to the “lollipop” trees in the four corners. Rising directly from the middle was a STEEP quadruple flight of stairs (100 of them altogether) that Mom made us climb to get the view. When we reached the top Lola and Clare and I were puffing like locomotives and Mom was laughing at us, but we were rewarded with a view of Bantry Bay over the top of the Bantry House that was awe-inspiring.

The interior of the mansion was just as impressive. Period furnishings, vibrant paint, gorgeous tapestries and fabric wallcoverings, and the open freedom to walk from room to room and peek in on the beauty without being heckled by a guide was refreshing. There weren’t even any ropes up keeping you out of the main sections of most rooms, you just wandered around and were NEXT TO the elegance, instead of separated from it. It was a total experience, and it seemd less like gawking at someone else’s treasures (the House is still privately owned by the Duke or Earl… I can’t remember which) and more like being invited over to tea. They even gave Clare a laminated card that had details of objects (animal eyes, bird feet, dragon paintings) she was supposed to look for in the pottery, tapestry, and woodwork. That was brilliant! It kept her occupied while we glided from stately room to stately room.

After we left the House to explore the front garden crammed with blooming blossoms, the boys called us to say they were leaving Cashel and would meet us north of where we were in Killarney. So we set out on what would be the hairiest part of our adventure. After passing though VERY heavy traffic in Kenmare, we stopped to ask directions on what would be the best route into Killarney. A nice Eircom man gave mom the 20 minute version of all the different streets and their pros and cons, and we chose to continue up on the N71.

What a ride! The road varied from wide and smoothly paved to narrow enough for only a car and a half at times. It was seriously rutted on the sides and gave the effect of a washboard for miles at a time. We climbed sheer cliffs and rounded corners to find waterfalls running out of the bare rock mountains. Sheep that had jumped the guardrail wandered onto the highway. Then, to top it all off, there was a sign for a tunnel up ahead. When we got to it, Cindy let out a little cry and barreled into the black depth of it, blinded by how dark the interior was compared to the light blazing in from the end. Water that had seeped through the stone mountain was rushing down from the roof of the tunnel, creating a carwash effect on the windshield. And to top it all off, it was barely wide enough for one car, let alone the two-way traffic that was speeding through it.

After three more tunnels and 15 more miles of a “Road to Hana” (for those of you who have been to Hawaii and braved the steep, 150 hairpin turn, twisty and treacherous road) we emerged near the Killarney national forest and into a stunningly gorgeous view of the lakes of Killarney. Adding to Laura’s soundtrack of screaming Sheeeepp everytime she caught sight of one, Lisa added a cry of WOW! to every couple turns or so. Clare was humming a tune most of the way and Cindy continued yelling at drivers who felt the need to take up both sides of the narrow road. We were a wreck of nerves and pent up energy by the time we reached Killarney and parked.

Tom and Bill had made good time driving from Cashel through Mallow and on to Killarney. The southern midlands are rich with farmland. We noticed that there are more homes for sale in this area than elsewhere. Everywhere we’ve gone in Ireland we notice more homes and properties for sale than any previous trips. Tom has had several conversations with the Irish about their economy. The general feel is that it is a recession complicated by the boldness of the “Celtic tiger”. The Irish were too optimistic about their success. It is very similar to what we’re going through in the US. Most of them feel the U.S. has to get back on its feet before Ireland can resume its growth. Their economy is partially tied to ours. The power of the Euro cuts both ways. It’s expensive for us with the Euro so strong but its equally hard on the Irish because fuel and food costs are soaring. A few Irish have spoken to me about our politics. Obama rates high with most of them but they feel we’re too divided in the US to elect a black man.

Lisa’s favorite restaurant, Bricin, was set to close for lunch at 3 pm, just 15 minutes after we arrived in Killarney. We rushed upstairs and put in our request for a table just in time. The meal, like the last one we had there six years ago, was delicious. Lisa and Tom and Clare shared the roast chicken and ham with three veg, Cindy and Laura had chicken tagliatelle with handmade noodles, and Bill drank his lunch and ate around the edges.

We thought we might be able to go back a different way, but no. We were all in for the same adventure all the way back to Bantry. The coolest part was when Tom and Bill pulled off at a lookout point at” Ladies View” Lookout and the sun parted the clouds briefly enough o give us a faint rainbow! Clare looked for the pot of gold and we all marveled in the beauty for a moment before the clouds closed back in.

When we got home, the sheep that had been in a far field had been moved right up next to is, so Lola and Clare and Cindy snuck up on them and took pictures with the Baaaing herd. Lola got to act crazy and BAAAA repeatedly to her friends, finally.

Tom and Bill had had a rough day: the drive to Cashel and back was 5 hours. Tom joked that Bill got to see more of Ireland than he bargained for. But they retrieved the CDs and DVDs and a couple of glasses of Jameson’s that night put them both right again.
Lola helped Lisa make a beef and barley soup, Clare strung beads and worked off some pent up energy, and Cindy enjoyed a much-needed tipple with the boys.

What a day!

téigh in éag (means: to end!)

Day 8

Day 8: Today we slept in late, cooked blueberry muffins, and then drove to Bantry in search of internet, money, and food. Bantry is a beautiful little harbor town with quaint streets and very nice people. Unfortunately it was bank holiday weekend and everything except the hotel restaurant was closed. And also unfortunately, we had one of the worst meals of our trips at said restaurant. The funniest part of the day was the fact that Bantry has loudspeakers posted all around the town and they’re piping random music loudly throughout the streets. Laura and Lisa called it the “soundtrack of the city”.

We met a very nice man and his wife, James Hegarty. He turned out to be a homeopathic doctor and quite an intellectual. Tom ended up talking with him extensively as we wheeled around the grocery store there in Bantry. After pillaging the big supermarket we came back to Derryfunchion to rest and drink a little wine and eat some cheese. We whipped up a lovely meal of pork chops, baked apples and hazelnuts, garlic potatoes, and salad.

We also realized that Clare’s CD and DVD case and backpack was missing and we sent out a flurry of emails from Lola’s Blackberry to try to track it down (the miracles of technology). A few hours later we got an email back from Mary at The Thornbrook House that she had found Clare’s case in the drawer in the room we stayed in. So, the plans is tomorrow that Tom and Bill will drive ALL THE WAY back to Cashel to pick it up. Whew.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)