UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 12

"A wealthy farmer put great stock by his wonderful dog.  When the old mastiff died, the farmer was naturally heartbroken. This had been a member of the family! He approached his local priest and requested a full funeral mass for his beloved lost companion. The priest looked at him sympathetically and said "we don't do funerals for  dogs Paddy, you should know that". As he was looking so sad, he added, "though boyo there is a church about 15 miles out of the village that follows no religion I would understand and it's possible they might perform a service for your dog. The farmer with tears in his eyes, says "so you're thinking if I offer them the 60,000 pounds to do the fun------"  "Wait, wait" the priest quickly interrupted him. "You didn't tell me the blessed dog was Catholic!"

On with the trip.  We traveled some more narrow two-laners along the water and were proudly told this road is new. OK. But then the guide pointed out the old road several yards away which basically consisted of a couple of goat tracks with some asphalt still clinging precariously to the surface, and though I don't know how it was possible, appeared narrower than the one we were traversing. It was a typical "soft" Irish day, meaning overcast with an occasional little showers which left everything a little damp and a glistening verdant green.

Beautiful country with tumble-down stone houses apparently abandoned during the potato famine and slowly going back to nature. Again I do not know how they grew potatoes or anything considering how rocky and hilly the land is. We passed the ruins of the Daniel O'Connell (the Liberator) house, not restored in any way but just slowly slipping into the Irish countryside at its own pace of deterioration. This is their way of preserving history.  Mr. O'Connell was an Irish political leader in the first half of the 19th century who campaigned for Catholic emancipation including the right for Catholics to sit for London Parliament and was one of the first to do so for his local County in Dublin.  He believed that equality with the English was possible through peaceful means and was the most successful champion for democracy in Europe as well as playing a significant role in ending slavery.

"The boys were enjoying an evening down at the pub - drinking, cussing, carousing. The local priest stopped in and gazed about in obvious disapproval. He asked each of the drinkers if they were wanting to make it into heaven. One by one he had the ones who wanted to be saved line up against the wall. When he came to Casey, he just kept drinking.  The old priest says, "Casey, me lad, don't you want to go to heaven?" "Course I do Father, Just not right now!"

We actually started our day with a visit to the Irish National Stud farm. These beautiful stallions are bred with hopeful mares at an astounding price "per ride" so to speak. They win a few significant races and spend the rest of their lives in comfy stalls and graze on the most tasty green grass Ireland has to offer. Their only responsibility is to successfully "cover" the ladies brought to them.  They retire at a ripe old age cared for by attentive grooms who come here from all over the world for the opportunity to learn how to run a successful stud operation.  The young lady who was our guide would name a famous (to her) race horse and say "You've heard of so and so right?" Empty stares all around. About the 3rd of 4th time she was pretty frustrated with us. So school being cancelled due to stupidity, we all just enjoyed wandering the farm and enjoying the beautiful horses and foals living there.

We did feel kind of sorry for the sweet old pony who is used to determine if the ladies are, ahem, ready to be serviced. If they are in heat, the pony is quickly jerked away and the real "star" is brought in to perform his duty. Nice retirement plan.  I like to think that maybe that pony was smarter than the grooms and got his goods in when they weren't looking.  Though I suppose the proof would be in the offspring. Oh yeah, they had some Japanese Gardens that are quite famous there, but we opted for tea and scones in the snack shop instead.

We traveled on to Killarney via Tipperary (yep, those songs long long way to etc, etc). We saw the famous Rock of Cashel which is rumored to be a stopping place for St. Patrick and his tussles with the devil. All I know is I didn't see "no stinkin snakes 'round there." Much more exciting was the town that honors it's goat Puck. He is declared King Puck of Killorglin and paraded up the inevitable hill, after which the town celebrates his three day reign with three solid days of drinking as the pubs do not close throughout the festival. Many party goers spend the night on the riverside as going back up those hills is not an option after three days of partying. After leaving Killorglin which is quite a nice little village when not in the throes of its 3-day debauch we viewed more gorgeous Irish countryside and met "the richest man in Ireland" according to our travel guide. He spends all day with his donkey and his dog making Brigid's crosses and having tourists take his picture for which he is generously tipped.

The tour guide said he doesn't know if it's the same dog, but he is always sitting on the donkey and the three of them happily spend their days delighting the tourists. Interesting fact about the crosses. As the Catholics were not allowed to practice their religion, these reed crosses were placed unobtrusively in spots to signal a priest would appear and hold a forbidden Mass for the underground faithful. It is easy to hide in this wild and beautiful country.

"An Irish pilot was in touch with the control tower on what was supposed to be a routine flight. He says loudly "Christmas", no response, "Halloween", again nothing, "New Year's Eve". He was getting frustrated and said "I know it's a holiday". Finally a voice from the tower speaks "I believe the word you are looking for is MAYDAY!"

To Be Continued......                                                           

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 11

This Irish chapters will be sprinkled with jokes heard from the Irish cabaret we attended Sunday night. Jokes like "me Grandmother was so short her feet showed in her passport photo".

Sunday morning in Dublin, Ireland the land of 90% Catholics, and we were honored to attend the Church of Guinness at 10:00 am.  Fascinating and apparently the Number 1 tourist attraction in Europe. History and beer - how can one go wrong? I shall remember it as the my first proper taste of the "black & white". After worship, I have definitely become a "believer". Guinness at 10:00 am, well it is Ireland after all. I followed that up with a whole pint at lunch, followed up by a nap... Actually I found myself "worshipping" every day the remainder of the trip.

At any rate Arthur Guinness was a canny lad. As he was being pooed pooed for his brewery plans, in 1759 he managed to rent the facility for IRL45 (45 Irish pounds) a year for 9,000 years. However, the lease is no longer in effect because the property has been bought when it expanded beyond the original four-acre site.

"Airline personnel - Has your suitcase been out of your sight? Well it's been in me attic for 15 years"

By the time we reached the "Gravity Bar" at the very top of the brewery, we were pretty much ready for more light refreshment as we enjoyed a 360 degree view of downtown Dublin.  The old brewery building is technically a 7 story museum showing both the brewing process and advertising animals created by John Gilroy working off the tag line "Guinness is good for you".

I also had the pleasure of enjoying my first beef and Guinness pie.  All things Guinness the rest of the trip. At the time I said if it doesn't taste like this in the States, I will be disappointed. (It doesn't).

"A friend talks another friend into trying Viagra. You'll feel like you're 20 again laddie. After a few weeks they met again and the friend asked him - did your try that Viagra. Well said his friend I did me boyo. Were there any side effects asked his friend? After a brief ponder the second man said, well only one-the Missus' headaches are back..."

Some other facts about Guinness is that it has to be chilled to 60 degrees to be perfect and it takes two minutes to settle in two stages; each time waiting for the bubbles to stop. I did perform homage by sporting the foam mustache proudly when I quaffed a pint.

Although I would never attend something like this normally, we did sign up for the Irish cabaret. Wall-to-wall tables and chairs loaded with a couple hundred people and only one exit that I could see. Tight quarters for attendees and performers whose stage is so small they actually dance on the tables! Lol.  I think the wait staff was in on the idea as certain areas were surreptitiously cleared just ahead of the dancing feet.  The Irish music, dancing and comedian were awesome. I am repeating some of the cleaner jokes, but you had to be there. We were laughing so hard we were crying.  Plus I regaled some of the rest of the gang with the jokes in the days following. Still made us laugh.

"I was such an ugly baby the nurse slapped everyone in the delivery room. She yelled out 8 pounds and me Mater yelled back he's yours and I'll throw in the baby carriage. How ugly was I? Well for the longest time me parents thought I had bad breath and a cleft palate until they realized they'd been holding me upside down".

After our Guinness tour our Dublin guide James narrated our riding tour. Unfortunately his voice was lyrical and low and he lost a few of us after our "pint" at the end of the tour. However he did relate the circumstances around the rebellion of 1916 which led to the Irish Republic being formed. As history is yesterday there, 1916 is the same a 2017. He told of the brave men who were executed by the British and showed us their resting place-a monument honored by all. Their sacrifice triggered the rest of the country to take up arms and eventually win their freedom as a free and independent nation. Queen Elizabeth eventually visited, greeting the populace in their native Gaelic, thus burying the hatchet for centuries of persecution, for good.

James also showed us where the American counsel lives near a park with a gigantic cross erected for the visit by the Pope. 5,000 people thronged this area to see the Pope but I especially remember the fantastic ice cream vendor truck stationed nearby that provided us our late morning snack. Guinness and ice cream on a Sunday morning Tra la.

"So many of the travelers are honeymooners and me and the Missus are sitting to breakfast listening to all the billing and cooing.  Pass the sugar, sugar; pass the honey, honey; care for a bun, bunny. Me wife looks at me and hollers pass the bacon you fat pig!"
To be continued....

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 10

Enjoying a walking tour of Chester because it's a walking tour not a bus tour although one had to take a bus to get here. A timed walking tour because if we miss our rondez-vous, we miss the boat to Ireland - not acceptable.  Of course I don't know how important that is to the rest of the group.  (At any rate, we all made it.)  This is the second walled city from Norman times we visited. Even explored a recently unearthed Roman structure located many feet below the streets of Chester which was next to an ancient Roman-inspired garden located above the city streets. They also had a few tombstones moved from outside the city that depicted Roman burial practices.  Quite pleasant  and beautiful actually. And if I recall correctly the town also contained the first protestant church commissioned by jolly old Henry VIII. But after a while I got my castles and churches mixed up.

We walked to the town center and then along the top of the Norman wall all the way down to the River Die. And what did we see on the River Die in the British city of Chester in the western part of England?  See below:

Yes I am as puzzled as you.

As usual it started to rain pretty good, but it got us back to the bus early where we passed the time chatting with other bedraggled members of our group. In the U.K. you wear waterproof or carry umbrellas and soldier on. It's an island folks: misty mornings, sunny daytime, cool evenings.

As we entered Wales we stopped in a little town whose name is longer than the main street. Apparently the thinking was, if they made the name long and unpronounceable people would bypass it as we always want to say we traveled to------------------------------. I think it's 52 letters or something.

Loosely translated:  The Church of Mary in the Hollow of the....." well you get the gist. Of course there is a tourist stop - canteen and souvenir shop and look a "James Pringle Weavers" outlet! Also free samples of variously flavored whiskey. Amazing the amount of alcohol available regardless of the hour though the pubs close early so maybe that makes sense. I did not know the Welsh flag features a rather ferocious looking dragon, but I told Joe it's a dinosaur on the shirt I bought him. However, he probably knew the difference.

The ferry boat to Dublin which the bus just drives right up into, has eleven decks. We tried going outside but the wind even on a calm day blows you right off your feet. Inside there are chairs, couches, food and the inevitable gift shop. But all I kept thinking was "a 3-hour tour".

After an uneventful trip across the Irish sea during which I saw a porpoise dive, we arrived at the docks of Dublin. We made slow progress to our hotel due to traffic and a special concert that was being held that night. Ariana Grande was performing and we saw all the teenagers in their best outfits standing in a huge line to get into the concert venue, in the rain.  The view of all those excited young people was especially poignant  and sadly memorable when two days later a coward bombed the same concert in Manchester, England.

Arriving at the hotel most appropriately named the Trinity Hotel as it is located across from the famous Trinity College. This hotel certainly personified the point at which opulence just become gauche and apparently their favorite color is royal purple. I'll just leave it at that.

Big rainstorm prompted our deciding to sample the hotel cuisine rather than going out. At least the affinity for purple was more subdued in the dining area. Burt finally got his lamb.  We had been seeing tons of sheep and lambs but it was never on the menus. Then actually the next day at our Irish Cabaret night they offered lamb stew.  I stuck with steak and chicken until I learned to partner it with my new favorite brew which I discovered a day later.

I don't know what they use, but I can't get used to their salad greens. They just taste bitter and dressing is either non-existent or a form of vinegar and mayonnaise. They do love their mayo, but not my favorite. Tomorrow, Sunday, we will enjoy a different kind of religious experience followed by an extremely hilarious night at the Irish Cabaret.  To be continued......

UK TRAVEL TALES CHAPTER 9

Leisurely day. Bags out at 8:30 rather than the crack of dawn, which is about 4:30 am actually. At least that's when we seem to wake up with the sun. Short nights here. A couple of rides south and opportunities to explore a town on the banks of Lake Windermere of which I cannot remember the name and also some time in Liverpool before heading to the English town of Chester for the night.  Looking forward to our ferry across the Irish Sea to Eire in a day or two.

Wandered the town after breakfast which for the first time ordering off the menu was allowed! Burt immediately opted for Eggs Benedict where I stuck to my tried and true granola and yogurt, though I do drink a pot of tea now.  This hotel was so luxurious from the room, the public areas to the food. Tea or alcohol served in a marvelous parlor where one could imagine the formally dressed guests planning out their day's activities and evening dining with golden pens and white gloved waiters at the ready. The English on vacay really know how to Par--tee!

As we traversed the streets along the Lake I now believe that all the sheep's legs are shorter on one side. You would not believe the steepness of the hills where you literally went uphill both ways. Also apparently the grass actually is greener on the other side as Burt just noticed a sheep halfway up a stone wall next to his/her field trying to get into the neighboring one. We don't think he/she made it. 

It is interesting to see all the free-standing stone walls that do not rely on mortar to stay together and erect all around the farms. When the English farmers/landowners were forced to "enclose" their lands they turned to what was plentiful - lots and lots of rocks. Apparently the tax man became wise to the practice of neighbors shifting sheep (say that 5 times fast) when he came around to assess the tax burden based on the number of animals owned. Which reminds me of another piece of farming info. We learned some of the brightly colored marks on the ewe's backs were not identifiers of who owned "ewe" but are caused by the rams, ahem, covering them. Thus the farmer can mark both "effort" and "virility" - no sheep!

A couple hour stop in Liverpool was next on the agenda. The dock area, once busy and dangerous is still busy but much more trendy these days as the younger crowd likes the eclectic flats, pubs and the giant soccer stadium that dominate the area. Deciding to forego the Beatles tour (on the bus) in favor of a pint at a nearby pub, I sampled a draft called "Yellow Submarine" (well in Rome or Beatles' country). We sat with a young nursing student as the only open seating and had quite a conversation. Though a new friend Mary asked me, "how much of what he said did you understand?" "Not much" lol. But we smiled and nodded appropriately and our tour guide who was also enjoying a pint with us, kept the conversation going. 

On to Chester ........

Arrived at the Queen's Hotel in Chester which sported lots of portraits of lady rulers and crazy roman statues. Rooms and suites were marked with Queen's names including Henrietta Marcia one of the few times I have seen my sister's name spelled out. Also another room was marked "so & so was conceived in this room". Well ok, probably many rooms owned that legend I would guess.  After a major hunt, we found the "giant chair" we were told to look for though I don't know what it signified if anything.

Also found an old style red box phone booth which had a video screen rather than a phone.  There were many of these red box phone booths still alive and kicking on London streets that actually housed phones.

A little excitement this night as there was a wedding reception going on in the courtyard of the hotel with guests literally being thrown out at midnight. As everyone at the reception was pretty "oiled" when someone starting banging on our doors yelling for help some assumed it was just some misguided guests looking for more booze. However it turned out to be one of our group who had some trouble in the bathroom - either fell or couldn't figure out how to work the faucets at midnight-not sure which story was correct from our rudely awakened fellow travelers. When you travel with a "mature" group, little mishaps like this are daily occurrences. People forgetting to return on time, people getting lost, people almost falling down staircases, people wandering where they should not wander and then feigning deafness when challenged.  Ahh the life of a tour guide.  Tomorrow we board our ferry to Ireland.....