Left Dublin on a quiet, sunny Sunday morning. Strayed from my public transit quest, because it was Sunday, the bus station was far away in a direction I was unsure of. According to the cabbie, I was lucky to catch him, as the bank holiday Monday meant most taxi drivers would be catching z's before nightlife kicked up again.
The sunshine didn't hold on for long, and was soon cruising through the vivid green country side as the weather demonstrating what makes it all possible.
Cashel is a small town that appears to exist to support the Rock of Cashel heritage site. Main street runs a few blocks with pubs, shops and hotels, with a some more hotels closer to the rock. Seems I booked myself in the nice hotel for my one night. Left my bags w/ reception and hiked up to the rock with my complimentary pass. Ok, hike is an over statement, but it was about six blocks way with a slight uphill incline. Not exactly roughing it.
Managed to hop in with a guided tour, and they have done a nice job of restoring the ruins. It's one of those sites that's so old, they have to make some best guesses on parts of it's history. The view of the surrounding countryside is quite stunning, and the intermittent showers and cagey raven population add a charmingly ominous atmosphere to the hill top.
The hotel room was easily twice the size of my Dublin digs, so enjoyed a brief nap before checking out to the hotel bar for dinner.
Sundown is so late here. Is it later than back home?
At dusks, made another pass by the rock, to see it lit up. I'm not sure if the intent of the lighting is to highlight the ruins or play up the haunted vibe, but it certainly presents a ghostly presence just a couple blocks off main street.
As in Dublin, all the pubs where full of people enjoying the bank holiday weekend. The pub full of middle aged locals dancing was a bit more exiting than I was up for, but found a seat outside across the street. It's the sort of town where they know you're a tourist on site simply because they don't already know you. If they don't already know you, your parents and your grandparents, you're clearly not from around there.
Chatted with a few born and raised locals, confirming my suspicion that they don't venture far from home. The light rain turned into a torrential downpour, making a run for the hotel undesirable, so hung around a little longer watching revelers dash for taxis or send their dates to bring the car around. Much like Seattle, they're used to more of the steady light rain than full on deluge.
I thought about stopping at one more pub, but upon stopping back at the hotel, realized to get back in, the reception desk had to open the door from the inside. It was midnight, so decided to call it a night over bothering the front desk guy again.
Monday, fit in a full Irish breakfast before lining up to catch the bus to Cork. Even the small version was a massive amount of food, and so good!
Hopped the bus for an easy two hr ride to Cork, then a very short change to Glounthaune (I will never get the pronunciation right for this place). Jacqui was an incredible hostess. She collected me from the bus stop, even though it was only about a block away, and showed me the little shop and pub nearby for orientation.
The little cottage in her back yard is gorgeous. Full of art and restrored furniture. Super homey, and a delightful place to spend the rest of the afternoon. It was pouring out all afternoon, so gave myself permission to take the afternoon off and listen to the rain pound on the roof. Sometime around 9:00PM the clouds let up, and I did a quick walk around the neighborhood. It's basically a wide spot in the road with a few neighborhoods overlooking tide flats, and an excellent spot to take a few easy days to check out the southern coast.
For Tuesday I caught the local train to Cobh, stopping in Fota along the way. Fota has lovely little wildlife preserve, so spent a couple hours communing with mostly contained nature. Cobh (formerly Queenstown) was the last port of call for the Titanic. There's lots of tourist enticing places, but I just walked around the town in the rare sunny afternoon. The cathedral is up on the hill, offerings spectacular view across the harbor. It's very ornate, so I was surprised to see it was only built in the late 1800s. See, more modern churches can be pretty (side eye to Adventists). After an early supper, hopped the train back to my cozy B&B.
Wednesday, birthday day! Had planned on checking out the distillery in Midleton, but Jacqui very generously offered to drive me into Kinsale. I hadn't thought I'd make it out that far, so seemed a shame to pass it up. Got to know her a little better over the drive, and she gave me a quick overview of the town as we passed thru. Beautiful little Victorian harbor town on fairly steep streets all around the cove.
Started just outside of town in Charles Fort (not Fort Charles apparently, as bar mates seemed confused when I called it that). Very well maintained grounds, history exists. Learned a bit about Irish participation during WWI. Ducked out of the rain into the tea shop, beginning to really love how they serve it up with cute little tea pots and milk.
Took a little walking trail into town, and the rain really started to pick up. Busted out the handy poncho, but still got dry wet around the knees. The trail came out at the Spaniard (possibly the oldest pub in town), and decided to warm up with a whisky. I don't think the bartender expected me to say yes when he suggested warming up with a double, but it seemed like a capital idea.
Claimed a seat in the corner to dry off and write a bit. An aged lobster fisherman chatted me up, and I think he was asking me to join him for drink at another place. I did pass on that, as I was struggling to understand him already. Ventured back into the deluge, undeterred from checking out the rest of the town.
By the time I was thoroughly soaked again, arrived at Fishy Fishy, the fancy restaurant that pretty much all the guide books and Jacqui recommended. For birthday dinner treated myself to an amazing seafood chowder, lobster and sticky pudding. So full of food, but totally worth it.
Hopped the bus back into Cork in time to check out the downtown area as all the shops were shutting down, and scouted out a pub with live music. First stopped at one spot in the city center, and it was clearly a tourist pull. Lots of Americans around the place. The wisdom of the internet recommended another bar across the river for the more "authentic" experience.
Sin e was a very small place, but snagged a seat at the bar next to a bunch of old dudes who were clearly regulars. They were funny, and clearly it was my day to chat with the elderly bar clientele. Finally, a dude under 60 chatted me up, and he bought me a drink. I hadn't really planned to have another, but hung out with him and his friends for at least the one drink. Paul was working in Cork that week with his brother in law and nephew for the family roofing business. They were all quite nice, but I had to run and catch the last train back to Glounthaune.
Back in the village, I figured I would cap my day with one more drink in the local pub. Guess what, it was filled with old dudes! Chatted with the regulars a bit before calling it a night. Got back to an email from Jacqui hoping I was safe. Apparently, a little worried I may have fallen off some cliff in Kinsale. I'm not used to anyone noting when I get home, so hopefully didn't worry her too much.
Thursday was for laundry and whisky! Not together, but that sounds like a perfectly fine plan. Caught the bus to Midleton where they have the Jameson Experience. Scored a slot on the tour starting just ask arrived, and learned all about triple distillation and barley drying. Got picked for the tasting portion of the tour, comparing Jameson against American and Scotch whisky. No surprise the Jameson was easily the smoothest.
After tasting had an early dinner at Farmtable, another delightful restaurant, and a fantastic seafood pie before heading home.
Friday meant saying goodbye to Jacqui and Glounthaune. Back to the bus! It was my first schedule hiccup with the bus schedule, as it was late getting to the Cork station, just missing the connection to Tralee. Not a big deal, but did have to wait an hour for the next one, and that meant having spend longer waiting for the connection from Tralee to Dingle. This had me rolling into town at 5:30
The bus ride from Tralee was amazing. Rolling hills slopped down to the water then shot up into mountains. Naturally it was raining, but still a gorgeous drive. Looking forward to enjoying it on the way back as well.
It's a bit of a hike from the Dingle bus station to the hotel on the hill, but totally worth it. The view is fantastic, and the room is super fancy. I hadn't intended to go fancy in Dingle, but everything was booked up for this big adventure race. It's pricey, but it's awesome, and incredibly attentive service. Could have chilled in the room or one of the parlors all evening, but needed to check out the town!
Dingle is another ridiculously charming town with a Main street bursting with restaurants and pubs. Stopped in at Adam's for an excellent bowl of chowder just bursting with fish. I want to eat all the soups all the time.
After that stopped into the Dingle Pub where they had likely sing along folk music.
Finished the evening in a pub that seemed to be where the young folks hang. More live music, but playing more recent pop favorites. I did not realize country western music is very popular in Ireland. These pubs seem very small when you first walk in, but extend back in a warren like fashion. Found a spot by the back bar, and chatted up Patrick, probably the only other person over 35 in the place. He was in town from Killarney to check out the music. I suspect he may be a bit of a music snob, and he looked a lot like Randall from the Outlander series. I allowed him to buy me a couple rounds until it seemed like a perfectly good idea to make out with him at the bar. So much for representing maturity. It's been a long time since I made out with a dude at a bar, and I really should do it more often. Good times.
He walked me back to my hotel, with every hope of being asked in. However, I really wasn't looking to share my luxurious hotel room with anyone, so sent him on his way. If he'd looked more like Jaime in Outlander I might have reconsidered.
It's almost sunny, or intermittently sunny, in Dingle today, so gotta get out there.
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