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| Gravestone in Sneem |
Fourth Installment
May 7,
2016
Today
was Muckross day. Early on, we climbed into pony traps which hauled 6
to 8 lucky tourists each. Ours was driven by a leprechaun with a
twinkly smile. We road through lacy green bowers, lovely curtains of
lianas and carpets of bluebells and jonquils. It was breathtakingly
gorgeous. Everything was the electric green of rain-soaked earth. We
even passed fields of grazing red deer and sheep. I couldn't help
feeling like those lucky people in Winterhaven who look down on we
plodders with their self-satisfied smirks. I tried not to, but it
felt funny. Probably I should have concentrated on just enjoying the
method of transportation.
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| The K's (-Lisa) with the Leprechaun driver (OK this one looked like a leprechaun!) |
Muckross
House seemed to be more of a hunting lodge than anything else.
Annoyingly, they wouldn't allow pictures to be taken. It wasn't
really a castle, but it was large and full of trophy heads. Some of
those stag racks were enormous! Dad would have loved them. We saw the
children's rooms. Clearly the people there loved their children. When
they left, though, they donated all their toys to the poor.
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| The only thing I could take a pic of--the Gaelic |
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| The explanation |
The gardens were extensive and gorgeous and again the group forsook me. It was all exploring on my own—hard to really appreciate when I didn't know what was happening with the others—whether they'd leave me there and just go. Turns out Janelle and Ju and I finally met up and after taking pics in the summerhouse, walked home while the rest rode the bus. It had begun to mist and then to rain. It wouldn't have been bad, but Janelle was like a freakin' battleship plowing inexorably onward with few stops.
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| Muckross Abbey |
Luckily
one of those stops was at Muckross Abbey. The others on the bus
didn't get to explore it. I was, then, glad we'd walked. The abbey
was roofless and stone. It must have been horrendously uncomfortable
to sleep there. We mucked about in the graveyard and climbed up all
the floors and explored every inch of it. The abbey is much older
than the house, the house having been renovated several times. That
feeling of great age permeated the hoary stones which rose out of the
lush green jungle.
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| Janelle and I walking home from Muckross |
We
had a good time swinging on lianas and taking pictures next to the
stump of an enormous upended oak. By that time the mist had turned to
rain. We took a short cut, which of course is the longest distance
between two points. Still now and then pony traps would come up
behind us, or bikes. At last we hit the main motorway and walked
along it. By that time, because my sleeves were too big to fit in my
jacket sleeves, the rain was wicking up my arms. After not long I
began to really feel awful. When I finally made it back to the hotel,
I lay down and took a nap. Then a bit later I took a jacuzzi and felt
better. The damage was done, however. I'd gotten a bad cold and
cough.
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| Swingers |
The
girls took off to go shopping when I got out. So, being hungry, I
went to Jumping Jacks (sports pub) for a solitary dinner of a
roasted ham and cheese sandwich. Man that was lonely. I finally took
out my notebook and did a sketch and some little vignette bits for
color later. Here are my impressions:
-The
hulk of a stone wall rises from a velvet grass blanket. The clop of
hooves coming up behind as pony traps pass on their way back to the
city. A songbird breaks the flannel-clad silence, the notes sliding
up and back down the scale.
-I
feel a droplet and am instantly glad I brought the flimsy rain cape,
tiny protection against the downpour.
-The
rain and the week's end have driven everyone into the arms of the
pub. There they find a pint, a bite, and a friend or ten. Because of
the pints, the crowd's voice rises like a high tide, lapping at me,
but not soaking.
-The
walls are covered with rugby and football (soccer) pics, jerseys
from Ciarrai (Kerry), Limerick, Cork, and Cavan.
-The
Irish tricolor rises above the tables, complete with the Poblacht na
H Eireann.
-Men
fly back and forth from the bathroom, the trail just in front of me.
It's a wet night in more ways than one.
-A
football game rages on the TV above their heads, but they pay it
little mind.
-Two
little waitresses flutter around cleaning after a large party of
half-buzzed or snockered men who charge back out into the rain or up
to the front to swell the pack.
-The
young man behind the till has finally spotted me. He sends a waitress
with a side ponytail to bring me a hot ham and cheese sandwich and 3
kinds of potatoes. They sure love “mash” here.
-The
air is soup-thick with the hoppy scent of beer and steaming wool,
which swallows the creamy scent of my mash, which are now gone.
-When
I can no longer endure my painfully single state, I launch myself
into the drizzle, a ship hoping, at last, to fetch up against a
friendly shore.
Afterwards
I went walking and caught up with the girls. They were annoyed that
I'd eaten already. Whatever. Mom decided we were celebrating my
birthday and she gave me a CD she bought at the Gaelic Roots show.
Also we went back to that Murphy's ice cream shop and the wonderful
girls there treated me to a free ice cream. The bowl was cool. It was
a balsa wood folded bowl with no bottom over which the sides of a
paper cone folded. It was the perfect little bowl.
We
bummed around looking in shops and buying atrocious touristy things.
Again we saw a cool street performer--one of the better buskers I've
ever listened to, and so entertaining. He sang happy birthday to me
and heckled passersby.
Insert the Ciarrai shirt story here, which is elsewhere in the blog.
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| I think the guys loved their shirts. |
Unfortunately
we didn't get to see the antique car museum or the cathedral inside.
That's for next time I guess.
May 8,
2016
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| Each tree was for a fallen fireman |
Today
was Blarney day. We hopped into the coach and wended our way up into the hills above Cill Airne and thence on the road to Kinsale. Murt had this special place he wanted to show us all tucked away in what looked at first to be someone's pasture.
We found, in an out-of-the-way,
beautiful little place full of flowers and grass and trees, Ireland's
homage to the firemen who died in 911. There is a tree planted (and
plaqued) for every firefighter who laid his life down for others on
that hellacious day. Clear over in Ireland they cared about our guys
when their own leaders did not. Much. Lisa even found a tree for a
guy she was in a wedding with (she was the bridesmaid, he was a
groomsman). It really touched me how much the Irish cared.
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| Ireland's memorial for the firemen killed on 9/11 |
We
started off again across the countryside towards Kinsale. It was a
little fishing port, which we got to knock around in for almost an
hour. Mom went to an antique show (didn't really find anything) and I
and Lisa went to a bookstore. I bought my daughter's kids some little books
about Irish folktales.
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| Lisdoonvarna--matchmaker capital of Ireland |
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| Gorgeous rose window |
After
Kinsale with its colorful charm we piled into the van and stopped,
almost like it was a whim, at St. Finbarr's Cathedral. Apparently
there is usually a charge to go in. But I was following Cathy, whose
husband, Ross, had already paid and gone in. She said that she was in
search of her husband and paid. I think the guy at the counter
thought that was me who said that, because I said I couldn't go in as
I didn't have the fee.
He said, “No worries. Go in and find your husband.” I didn't correct him and went and stuck to the rest of the people in the tour.
He said, “No worries. Go in and find your husband.” I didn't correct him and went and stuck to the rest of the people in the tour.
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| See, hear, speak, and read no evil |
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| I love this juxtaposition of illumination and windows |
What
a gorgeous cathedral! Astonishingly so. It evidently has the most Old
and New Testament themed stained glass windows anywhere. They were so
VIBRANT with color. Gorgeous! They also had a cannonball on a chain
hanging there, and lots of coats of arms and an illuminated scroll
bearing the names of those who died in WWII.
I can't imagine something like that in one of our churches or temples. Also there was a display involving an angel with two trumpets which once sat on the top of the steeple (Moroni anyone?). The story is that when that angel blows his trumps, the people of that town have a one hour jump on knowledge that the Apocalypse is happening. The thing is, I never saw that angel. I'm thinking he has gone to stand atop one of the Temples somewhere. I took lots of pictures there.
I can't imagine something like that in one of our churches or temples. Also there was a display involving an angel with two trumpets which once sat on the top of the steeple (Moroni anyone?). The story is that when that angel blows his trumps, the people of that town have a one hour jump on knowledge that the Apocalypse is happening. The thing is, I never saw that angel. I'm thinking he has gone to stand atop one of the Temples somewhere. I took lots of pictures there.
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| Waiting for Vizzini |
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| Silly Jane kissed the stone |
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| Blarney in the spring |
Afterwards,
we stopped at perhaps Ireland's biggest tourist draw. Blarney castle
was actually fun to climb around in. Again, treacherous circular
steps up to the towers, incredibly uneven floors, panting climbers,
and no roof above. I took pics of several of the signs, climbed
everywhere, took pictures out the arrow slits.
I climbed up with Ju
and a few others to kiss the stone. Somehow I don't have that
picture, though. Lisa waited with Mom for a bit. I know Mom
eventually got to the top, but I stopped waiting for Lisa. So, again,
I got forgotten. Somehow they found the dungeon, which I did not. I
found the Oubliette, though. I did meet Ross and Cathy in the Poison
Garden, though. He did this weird chirp and his wife did too until
they found each other. It was really effective. You could hear that
chirp everywhere.
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| Ju and I at Blarney Castle |
Anywho,
I lost them too. I ended up going into the Rockery and doing the
Wishing Stairs thing and seeing the Standing Stones, the Abbey, the
dolmen and a dozen other beautiful features of the grounds.
Everywhere there were riots of flowers and HUGE ancient oaks. But I'd
had it with going everywhere alone, so I walked away back to the
Woolen Mill Hotel where we were staying. |
| Gravestone in Sneem |
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| Standing stones at Blarney gardens |
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| Dungeon at Blarney |
After a nice bath, I felt
much better. Mom and I launched ourselves into the rain to find a
place to eat, hopefully with the girls. Only we never found them and
Mom had already eaten. They'd gone for soup for me, but I didn't want
soup. I wonder what happened to it.
That
night, because it was Mother's Day, we talked to our husbands on the
girls' phones. I found out they gave us pie at church and my family
ate all of it.
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