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Tour of Ireland |
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Kilarney, Dingle, & Cork |
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Healthy dose of craic |
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I immediately liked Kilarney when we arrived. The town was fairly small, very quaint and pedestrian friendly. After settling in a bit, we did a little exploring around the town, checking out the cathedral and a few little shops, eventually stopping in at several pubs looking for a bit of traditional Irish music. Every one we went to, the only Irish person in there was the bar tender. We asked around a bit and finally found one that was supposed to be void of too many tourists. So we shared a pint and sang �Molly Malone� with the band and were then realised there were other Americans about, namely a gang of really loud, boisterous and quite inebriated Ohioans. We promptly informed everyone that we were Canadian. |
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The very scenic Dingle Peninsula |
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Dingle |
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From Kilarney we took a bit of a day trip out to the Dingle Peninsula, a place I could never hail from for the inability to say �I live on the Dingle� with a straight face. Dingle single handedly makes up for the ruddiness of places like Dublin � it�s like the postcard of Ireland with big apologies for its cities written in dry stone walls. It was Ireland how I had imagined, had hoped for, had been told about; it was the essence of Ireland with beehive huts and rainbows and dry stone and white cottages and people speaking Irish. And it is spectacular. We stopped the bus at least 27 times just to take photographs of rocks or the clouds and bands of colour in the sky (one of which ended on a cow which we decided was probably full of treasure). We stopped in Dingle town briefly and continued along the winding road along the cliffs, stopping for a stretch here and there to points of random interests, making our way to a place called Gallerous Oratory. This is the epitome of swell. The Oratory is a 6th Century �ruin�, though it was intact and exactly as it was in the year 568. Just a big stone igloo, no mortar or glue, just careful architecture. Very peaceful. I stood there for along while just smelling the stone, touching it, feeling it, tracing along the stones. Could have stayed all day, but the rain cropped up (which to me was a sign that I should stay inside the thing, but no) and we headed back to the bus and began to pack our things for our return journey to Wales the next day, happy with the way our trip had come to such a fantastic close. |
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Above: a winding road along the coast
Below: the Gallerous Oratory, established in the 6th century and has remained the same ever since, minus the giftshop (some of the photographs on the postcards are pretty old, though) |
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Home again, home again, jiggity jig |
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The following day and began our trip back to Rosslare to catch the ferry back to Fishgaurd, stopping off at Cork for a few hours to explore. A handful of us really didn�t know what to do and the idea of shopping for shoes, though popular by many of the Americans, didn�t seem like grand fun. So we headed instead for St. Finbar�s Cathedral downtown. It was very pretty and the gift shop not near as offensive as some of the others. We pressed on, making another stop in Waterford, by request of the majority of the bus, and to the crystal factory which I refused to enter. Some of you who know how graceful I am would probably agree that this was a good idea.
And so we wrapped up our trip to Ireland, snuggling into our seats on the ferry crossing, thinking about the events of the week and how odd it was that we had, at this point in time, spent more time in Ireland than we had Wales. But it was all good, and it was as we watched Hibernia fade into the background and Wales growing ever closer in front of us, the sun setting on the sea and the mist piercing our skin and chilling us to the bone which made climbing into my own beloved bed in my own charming Quim House that much better. It was a grand experience. |
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St. Finbar's Cathedral in Cork |
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all photos by Lauren Quinsland |
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