Magnificent

You know how sometimes when you're really, really looking forward to something, and then when it comes closer you're not sure it's going to be able to stand up to your own ridiculously high expectations?

That was not the case this evening.

More Britsh than Britain

Back online after a few days with limited internet access...time to play a bit of catch up!

We've met several Americans in the various B&B's we've been at, and it seemed that only a few venture up to Northern Ireland. We're really glad we did. Belfast was fascinating, and more so because we splurged on something I've never done before - a taxi tour. A very kind man named Ken picked us up at Belfast's huge City Hall and drove us for over an hour through both the Catholic/Republican and Protestant/Unionist sections of Belfast. He made a point to emphasize that there was extremism and brutal killing on both sides of the conflict, and we certainly saw evidence of that. We went first to the Protestant Shankill road area, which Ken called "more British than Britain":


There were peaceful murals, like this one:


And less peaceful, like this one, in which the gun barrel points at you from wherever you look at it:


And this church behind the locked up gate made me kind of sad:


We drove along the "Peace Wall" that divides the two communities and stopped to make a graffiti contribution. Lo wrote her name considerably bigger than mine...can you find it?



Then we drove through the gate (there are several throughout the city between the two communities, most close at the end of the work day, a few stay open to midnight or so), and headed to the Catholic section of town. The Sinn Fein headquarters were just a few minutes away, with this picture of Ireland that wouldn't be at all popular just down the road:


A mural of the IRA hunger strikers that died in prison as they protested being treated like criminals rather than political prisoners back in the early 80's:


And who knew that Frederick Douglass had such a strong Irish connection? I'm sure I was supposed to learn and retain that in some college class that I took, actually...


Here's Lo in the back of our little taxi, waving at me obligingly as always:


And this saying painted on a wall in a nondescript Belfast street was one of my favorite things we saw:


Belfast was our last day in Northern Ireland. We headed back south the next day for a last night in the Irish countryside before being back in Dublin for our final three days. On the way, we passed through Downpatrick, which is where the story of St. Patrick in Ireland begins and ends. He's buried there under this simple, massive, stone:


There was a really well done little center that walks visitors through his life and times, using his own words. It was unabashedly and unapologetically spiritual and a very glowing take on Ireland's favorite saint.

We ended our day in Trim, which was a really, really important town about 800 years ago. This castle is what it's famous for now. Here's the keep, and me trying to scare off intruders at one of the gate houses:



Our B&B in Trim came with a kind, chatty owner called Anne, whose husband raises bird hunting dogs, and their dog had just had a litter of irresistable puppies. So irresistable, in fact, that the previous guests (Americans from Florida) had taken one home with them. We resisted, but Lo had a great time with the little puppy family.

Northern Ireland's Wee Holiday Resort

This is how Portrush was described for us by a woman in Derry when we said that's where we were headed next. And if it weren't raining very hard for most of the morning, we might have actually seen people on the beach. And the big, silly, arcade. And the very American-looking traveling circus called "Circus Vegas". As it was, we kept our holiday activities to the ones we like - natural wonders, castles, and a bit of golf.

Here's a view of the Anterim Coast which we were driving back and forth along all day to get to all our various places. There are signs officially designating it as a P.E.N.B. (Place of Extraordinary Natural Beauty)

Can you find Waldo at Dunluce Castle?

This castle was abandoned in the 1600's after a dinner party one night in which half the kitchen and several servants fell into the sea.

The Giant's Causeway - those silly geologists chalk it up to the way the basalt collumns cooled after a volcanic explosion. The Irish know better and have lots of legends and stories of its creation that are much more interesting.

A close up from when I was climbing about (carefully) on the wet rocks

I was happy I made it to the top, but then I realized getting down was going to take quite longer than getting up there...

How we ended our day - rented a few clubs for a 9-hole Pitch and Putt at the Royal Portrush Course. £6 for this beats £120 for the 18-hole proper course just next door. We rented the clubs from a very nice gentleman who asked us where we were from, and when we said "Berkeley" he said, "Ah - been there! Had a very pleasant meal at Chez Panisse! Alice Waters!" It made me glad that I'd been there at least once so I could keep up with the conversation! My low-hole score was 4, my high was...10.

Walking the Walls and Murals of Derry

Derry is indeed a very interesting city, and today we learned quite a bit about it. Let's just say Loretta is a good sport. First, I dragged her on a walking tour (fascinating, funny, and earnest local guide) in the pouring rain:

Since we'd just dropped off a big load of laundry, and this was her last clean outfit and it got completely soaked, she had to change into her pajama shorts for the rest of the day. Look below for the bright green shorts.

The center of the town is tiny. We're staying right outside the walls, which are intact and were the main feature of a long siege in the 1600's that is still the rallying cry for the Unionists that live within the main part of town:


The flags flying and the color of the curbs indicate the politics of the neighborhood. A few minutes away from this Protestant Loyalist neighborhood (really, a few minutes- walking) is the Catholic area of Bogside. In January 1972, this was area was the site of the Bloody Sunday riots.


There is an active group of muralists that have done some amazing murals in the area. While most people - a huge majority - want and work for peace, a few extremist splinter groups still act out in graffiti and occasional violence. The "RIRA" is the Real IRA, an illegal group deemed terrorists by both the UK, the Republic of Ireland, and the US.

Harry in Derry

We've exchanged € for £, kilometers for miles, and crossed the border into Northern Ireland. The picture above was the only real indication that we were leaving the Republic of Ireland's County Donegal and entering Northern Ireland's County Derry. Here in Derry, restaurants offer the "Ulster fry" rather than the "full Irish breakfast" we've gotten used to seeing the past few weeks. Tomorrow we'll do lots of historical stuff, but today we took it easy.

We stopped for our Sunday round of golf at a Pitch and Putt en route, and I can't say that I'm improving any, but it's still fun. Then, when we got here, we headed out to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, which was also fun. (But listening to Jim Dale read it while we drove was even better). Derry is definitely one of those places where there doesn't seem to be another tourist in sight. The movie theater and the bar where we ate a quick dinner certainly testified to that - locals all around.

The Bog

Today we drove through counties Connemara and Mayo. Lots of peat bogs like the one above, some with turf neatly cut and sitting in stacks. A beautiful drive, even with all the rain, which stopped briefly at times but usually just slowed down to a drizzle.

We stopped for a while at Connemara National Park, and did a little hike, where I found this happy hiker:

We have been, believe me, especially in this weather!

View looking out toward the coast from our vantage point in the park.

Tomorrow we're off to Northern Ireland, which my friend Rick says is the second-safest tourist destination for Americans. (Japan = #1). More from Derry. Oh! And also, I've embraced my nerdiness fully and made a quiz for a future post! Study up on Irish history, folks! Prize will be given!

(Huff, Puff)

Last year, when I moved into Parker house, I lovingly brought my bike to its new home in the garage, hung it on the wall in there...and haven't ridden it since. I felt this lack of activity keenly today, my friends.

We're on Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands, just off the northwest coast of Ireland. There's an amazing and very old ring fort about 5 miles inland from our hotel here in the main village on the island, and our options for getting there were:

Pony cart: €100
Minibus tour: €40
Rental bike: €8

Given my current traveling partner, there wasn't really a question about what we would do. And here's what it was like out there on the road, when the more expensive modes of transport passed us by as we huffed and puffed up the steep inland route.


But it was good exercise, after all the heavy Irish breakfasts and dinners we've had the pleasure of consuming, and we also got to see sights like these:

Traditional thatched roof home - apparently now that they treat the thatch with
fire-proof material, it's coming back into style

Beautiful wildflowers in all the meadows and pastures here - there's supposed to be a wild orchid that grows here, but I've yet to spot it.

The fort itself, Dun Aengus, is kind of mysterious. They don't know when it was built, but they know it's been there since at least 200 B.C. And it used to be a circle, but over the centuries it's crumbled off the cliff. Speaking of cliffs, here is our latest series of death-defying feats at the fort:



It always seems so very un-American to come to places like this and find no guard rails, not more than one or two warning signs, no disabled access, no outrageous entrance fees. (For unlimited access and to hang out as long as we liked, we each paid €3). So we camped out for a while, resting from the ride on the soft turf, companionably reading and people watching.


It was funny to watch people approach the edge of the cliff. A large group of German tourists all took a series of group pictures. A very nervous young Aussie dashed away from the edge and encouraged his two travel partners to leave the edge themselves as soon as possible. An Italian trio won the award for loudest group of the day, with the woman calling "Guiseppe! Guiseppe!" so loudly to her husband that we could here them from wherever they were. The few parents who did bring children up to the fort certainly didn't let them get anywhere within 10 meters of the cliff. After quite a while, we headed back down to the bikes and the coastal road home.

We biked back past endless stone walls, wildflowers waving in meadows, beautiful horses with their colts, small windswept beaches, a seal colony, and a tiny hut selling sweets and drinks with a baby donkey, its mum, and a goat tied up in front. I stopped in a little shop and bought a hooded Aran sweater for Lily from a lady who'd made it and was working on another when I walked in. We've just ended our day with an excellent dinner of local sea food and sticky toffee pudding. We think we earned it after that ride. :)