Day One - Cashel
After leaving the airport, we drove in a circle around Dublin, marveling at all the other little, tiny cars. It's definitely different from America, in that SUVs and pickups are so rare. Most everyone drives a small, fuel-efficient car, which makes sense because petrol is not cheap, like it is here. Yep, it's cheap here, once you've seen what Europeans pay.
 Our teensy-weensy car — we loved it. It would turn on a dime, handy for parking on more crowded streets than this one. |
We were looping around the city on an M-road, which is the closest they have to an interstate. Even though it was a big, fast highway, it was an excellent place to adjust to driving on the wrong side, because it was split like an interstate, so... no oncoming traffic. All I had to do was stay in the flow and get used to exits and the “slow lane” being on the left side.
We experimented with stopping in a little town on the outskirts of Dublin, as we wanted to see how we would do in real traffic, and Thierry wanted to buy some film. We got a little lost, had our first truly terrifying encounter with a big truck coming at us very fast on a very narrow road, with no visible shoulder, and then got charged about $10 for a roll of film. They saw us coming a mile away.
Back on the relative safety of the highway, we headed south, towards Cork, on an N-road. N-roads vary from large and comfy (four lanes, with a divider), to two very narrow lanes. The road from Dublin to Cork, being a major thoroughfare between two large cities, had a lot of traffic, including commercial traffic (huge semi-trucks!) which were good for practicing “sharing the road”. It was all quite nerve-wracking, and we were soon ready to stop for lunch and a pint.
This proved to be challenging, as lunch doesn't really get going there until pretty late. Stopping in a pub at 11:30, we were met with puzzled looks when we enquired about lunch. We were led past the bar and the smiling, amused regulars, and into a huge, empty restaurant, where the lady, who we couldn't understand very well, motioned to us that we should sit. She also informed us that we could only have breakfast — no lunch until Noon. Since we had our hearts set on eating lunch in a pub (ideally where some other people were also eating), we decided to drive on to the next town, which we could hit at about Noon, and have lunch. At the next town, we were told that we could get lunch at 12:30. All of the places we stopped were pubs where, regardless of the meal being served, there were regulars at the bar enjoying a mid-morning pint. But we just didn't want Guinness and eggs.
 Looking for some food, atlas in hand, so that I'll blend right in with the locals. Dork. |
So, we ended up driving all the way to Cashel before we had lunch. This was a cute little town (though much bigger than most of the “towns” we went through) whose major claim to fame is the Rock of Cashel. This is an incredible castle ruin that is on a high hill overlooking the town. You can see it from way off, and it's quite breathtaking when you first see it.
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Thierry and our car, right beside the Cashel site. We got to drive up the hill from the regular parking lot because we were “handicapped”. Tee-hee!
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Various Cashel Shots
Before touring the Rock, we'd had lunch at a cute little place where I went against my tourist instincts and ordered Curry Chicken for my first meal in Ireland. Not exactly traditional fare, but it was yummy! I also had my first pint of Guinness, which was as delicious and as different from the American version as everyone says. It was thick and creamy and sweet and very, very satisfying. We were told, and we later witnessed, that one should not rush the pulling of a Guinness pint. Indeed, every publican we ordered one from poured it very slowly, with the glass at a tilt, then left it to settle (the brown liquid gradually separating into a creamy head and a pitch black liquid) for at least five minutes before coming back to top it off. This resulted in a large and frothy head that would coat your lips like cream, and last through the entire pint. Beautiful!
Also in Cashel, we made use of one of the many Tourist Information offices situated throughout the country in towns of just about any size. These always had brochures and information on local attractions, and for a small fee, they would book you into a room for the night. Since we were tired and loopy and jet-lagged, we had the office book us into a B&B in the town we hoped to hit by nightfall: Mallow.
 Our route on Day One, for those following along at home. Click on the map to see our entire route. |
It was a fairly short drive from Cashel to Mallow, but we wanted to take a detour to Fethard, where we'd heard there was some erotic carving from the 14th Century, which we thought sounded pretty novel. But personally, I've seen better erotica. It was a lovely town though, and a nice drive, if a somewhat time-consuming detour. By the time we got back to the main road and headed toward Mallow, I was ready for a break, so I got Thierry to drive. This led to the revelation that, when in Ireland, I am inarguably a better driver than a passenger, as I screamed and covered my eyes a lot, which is not the most supportive way to be a passenger. Thierry's most audible indication of panic was humming, and I have to say I really admired his self-control on this count.