The Wild Irish West
We're back from a few days in the West of Ireland. An awesome country to visit, unless you don't like green. If you have a problem with green, man, you'd be in the wrong country. You would HATE it there.
And it's probably not a good idea to walk around streetcorners and stand outside pub bathrooms muttering "Always after me Lucky Charms." I don't think the locals appreciate it.
This our first return trip to Ireland since we got married there five (blissful) Januaries ago, in Monaghan. This time we put about 600 kilometers on a blue right-hand-drive Ford Focus throughout the middle West, venturing through Mayo, Clare, Galway, and Limerick. We picked up a pair of Belgian hitchhikers in the Connemara on the way up to Cong. I bought a bodhrán in Spiddal and drank shots of Jameson in the bar at the Galway Bay Hotel. I learned how to pronounce taoiseach, ghaeltacht, and bodhrán, for that matter. Slept a lot, ate too much, and almost got into only one pub fight, with a couple of crabby sisters from New York.
More interesting details: gas costs on average $6.10 a gallon. A crazy lady tried to run out of the plane onto the tarmac at JFK. Some of the Irish "national" roads make Rensselaer County Road 5A look like a four-lane superhighway. There's a ton of new houses, with a lot more pink sandstone than you'd think would make sense. And of course, you got your livestock:
We actually did get into one of those sheep-causing-a-traffic-jam situations, but only for a few seconds. A very picture postcard moment.
We spent quality time with Tara's folks and two local radio personalities who accompanied us for the bulk of the trip. Tara's folks would go off to check out cliffs and castles, while we found cute little towns to poke around...like Westport:
...and Ennis:
...and the aforementioned Spiddal:
So a wonderful time was had by all, and really there's no better place to spend a vacation: the weather is mild, the people are friendly, the food's a lot better than in Scotland, and most of the people there speak something like English. So as they say there, céad míle fáilte, which is pronounced "centrifuge" and means "winkles and dillisk for everyone".
posted by Ross @ 6:10 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
Welcome back from the old sod---Green is correct-- my wife and I visited for two weeks a few years ago 9the locals loved us-- it only rained twice and both being short showers-- warm weather too) when we flew into Shannon on Aer Lingus (the place was Saint Bridgette)---it was about 7:30 in the morning- the sun was up and I looked out the window--and said to myself--MyGod this place IS really green---a green that can;t be replicated in tour books---just amazing------I also discoveerd Boru Vodka-- made in Ireland-- NO-- not from potatoes-- but from grain----other choice was Smirnoff---the Guinness was so smooth-----the most interesting thing to me was that-- in Dublin and at a few of our other stops at pubs elsewhere- they didn't serve Harp---one barkeep said that it was an "evil beer" and would cause gret pain and discomfort the next day---so when I wanted something lighter-- I discovered Stella Artois---really nice-- and both Red Sause and the FYP have it on tap----glad you enjoyed your trip--and welcome back--chbpod
Was wonderin' where you'd gotten yourself to, m'lad ... n' glad ye found yor way arund...
So when you buy winkles and dillisk (periwinkles and seaweed, right?), is it "lazy-man's" periwinkles, or do you have to shell a few hundred yourself to get a meal?
The pitch may have been in the strike zone, but since you weren't actually on the mound you can't count it as a strike.
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