UK TRAVELS CHAPTER 14

Another typical day on the bus. Death defying as we inch past a truck coming from the opposite direction and holding our breath. I really think that giant inhale helped. Though by now the "sportier" of our crowd would place bets on how close we would actually come to the opposing force. Inches is an accurate description of the distance between. The design of the bus places the rear view mirrors tucked into the front of the "coach" or collisions would be an ongoing event. Though nothing protects from the wild and free hedgerows and tree branches that kiss the windows as we traverse the narrow roads.

Today we will be visiting Blarney Castle. Again I quote the tour guide "home of the famous stone of eloquence, once kissed, never forgotten!" Bleeahhh. Where's the Simple Green between, ahem, kisses.  Anyway, Blarney Castle, Blarney Stone not what you think and scarier than what I thought.  A long walk through the city of Blarney, past the souvenir shops, up some hills, across acres of gardens and then....your amorous date with the cold, cold stone. But first one warms up with a 1,000 (well maybe 100) step twisting turning, claustrophobic producing climb up the fateful tower. Again, this is not Disneyland, no elevators, escalators or timid, out-of-shape visitors accommodated. As we slowwwllllyyy climbed it struck me that the original owners were not only shorter than we are, but obviously had much smaller feet.  Though I definitely see the defensive advantage. Try climbing these nasty twisting and ever skinnier steps in a full suit of armor brandishing a sword.  In very short order, your brandishing becomes a crutch that is constantly getting caught and defenders are taking pokes at you as you reach each unexpected wide spot.

It was the occasional wider spots on the climb that kept my claustrophobia at bay. I felt I could take a big breath or even step out if I needed a break. However once you start up these stairs, there is no turning back as the mass of humanity behind you effectively covers any hope of escape. One very narrow staircase that becomes narrower the higher you climb. Yay, daylight in sight. A short walk along the parapet and there it is, cue music.  A line of people whose upper body briefly disappears as they hang over the 100 foot drop to buss a rock! Very much an assembly line operation. One guy holds you, another guy stands by I guess to count the bodies that drop or clean the rock, not sure which; and a third snaps a picture. Very efficient. However I brought my own photographer as no way in Hades was he going to drop and hang for a silly rock.  He got some nice pictures of the countryside as well as there was much more time after the "event" to snap some shots. Your time on your back is short and sweet, well relatively speaking.

Anyway, the stone is flat and laid right into the wall with the rest of its fellow rocks. Somehow I thought the sucker would be rounded and easy to embrace. Wrong. I gripped the metal bars conveniently available until my knuckles were white, bent as far back as I could go and gave it a shot. Did I actually contact that nasty rock with my lips? Well you'll never know. Here's the thing though. How do I know that's the "real" rock brought back from the Crusades in Jerusalem? On the word of the guy who was my last hope of survival gripping my midsection and saying that's the one. Oh well. Also being of the shorter perspective, My body was pretty much halfway out over that drop. (see picture) Taller people definitely have the advantage.

Somehow the trip back down the tower was quicker than the climb up; always quicker coming back once you know the way. First stop - restroom, for obvious reasons. Side note:  the restrooms over there were very clean and they use the air dryers so no nasty used paper all over the place and no graffiti.  We could learn a little from our friends across the pond about neatness. Karen, the Australian lady who accompanied us up the tower and subsequent embrace, and I congratulated each other and felt that giddiness one experiences after doing something that was incredibly scary, yet incredibly silly. I was actually light-headed going back down the stairs!

After lunch and the proverbial stop at the Blarney Castle gift shop we headed to Waterford. The home of the most beautiful crystal. However, they no longer make it there but keep a small production area for the tourists and a shop filled with their classic glass. As we perused the display area after the tour I realized that no one from our tour group was there. We hurried out to the bus to experience that "everyone staring at us in silence routine "as we were the last to return-Drat!  But why the heck do we visit such a beautiful crystal outlet and not get to shop? Our hotel was literally a couple of miles away and we had a two hour break before dinner. Bad planning. However Burt had come down with a head cold, so we scurried out after check-in to find a "Chemist". It is still mind-boggling to us when they give directions like, "take a right by the Norman tower by the river".  Well it is literally hard to miss. Don't know what they gave him for a decongestant but it was cheap and literally worked in "hours".  No more head cold. Hmmm. Also their aspirin has to be dissolved in water but it has a delightful lemony taste.

As we leave Ireland tomorrow, one last giggle.

An Irishman was heading to Spain for vacation. His friends suggested he speak very slowly when trying to communicate to be understood. After a hot dusty trip into town, he visited a pub for some much-needed Sangria. He very slowly asked, "Could...I...have....some...Sangria?" and hoped for the best. The bartender said "Do....you....want....a....large.....glass?" The Irishman slapped his head and said "you're Irish too?" "Aye" was the reply. "Then why are we speaking Spanish?"   (Think about it)

Final days on the trip in the next and last chapter.   To Be Continued

UK TRAVELS CHAPTER 13

"A crew of old Irish lads were riding the train. All of a sudden one goes running into the next car yelling "Is there a Priest in the car?" One gentleman responds saying "I'm a Rabbi, can I help? " No, no" and he heads back to his car. 10 minutes later he calls out again, "oh Lord, is there a Priest in the car." A second gentleman rises to the occasion and says "I'm a Protestant Vicar, can I be of assistance?" Again the man shakes his head in sad denial. 10 minutes later the cry comes again. "Please, is there a Catholic Priest aboard for the love of the Saints?" Another collared man responds, "I'm a Baptist Minister, can I not be of some help?"  "No, no" says the crestfallen man "we be needing a corkscrew!"  Yeah, well.

The travel guide called it a delightful trip around the "Ring of Kerry".  I called it a suicide mission with a terrified busload of tourists and a driver who claimed "he just shuts his eyes on the scary parts".  Hmmm.  You start out climbing some hills slowly almost imperceptibly so no one panics and pass through some small villages on the water that are quite picturesque. One has a special affinity for Charlie Chaplin to the point of erecting a statue to him along the waterfront. I believe their affection arose from he and his family vacationing there frequently and not expecting a big fuss made over him when he hit the local grocery or pub.

We then became encapsulated in some fog that got progressively worse the farther up the hills we traveled. Again a nice way of hiding the distance to the valleys below and the narrowness of the roads. Though the downside is wondering if you can't see the lines in the road what is the driver using, radar? sonar? Nice stop at a statue of Our Lady enclosed with a metal fence so you can't get too close. Only reason I mention this is, I had my first opportunity to venture to the side of the road to see the sheer drop-off peeking through the fog, which actually obscured the statue until you were right on top of it.  We "valley-dwelling" peoples are not used to how the weather can be so different as you literally climb into the clouds on your journeys.

Up and down the curving mountain (ok they call them hills) and hairpin curves and I no longer scoffed at fastening my seat belt. It was kind of like hitting air pockets on a plane. The rough roads and constant tight turns bounced you around in your seat like bacon grease hopping around in a hot skillet. As the average age of people on this trip was about 65, it would have been difficult to say the least, to try to drag one off the narrow floor and back into their seat. But like the laughably short flimsy fences along the side of the sheer drops, both seat belt and fence are useful only for keeping your lifeless body near the buss and to mark where your vehicle plunged over the side to make it easier for recovery.

After safely completing our jolly ride around the Ring we passed through a tunnel that required all lovers, couples and whoever was sitting beside you on the bus to lock lips promising forever love or something like that. Well it was dark in there, who knows. There was a beautiful overlook of the three lakes below that was named for Queen Victoria's ladies rather than herself as she was not enamored with the view or the primitive setting or ride over, I can't remember which.  Again this is not your "make it as people friendly as you can to avoid lawsuits" America. Over here you take your life in your paws if you're foolish enough to want to get a better picture.  No fences...

Funny side note. Stopping in a "tourist" village for lunch (my usual Guinness & sandwich) I wasn't paying particular attention to the conversation. All of a sudden I looked up and the biggest freaking goat I have ever seen was prancing past the window. Not sure the protocol, I basically pointed and yelled "Goat!"  Now no one would have believed me except they were just talking about this guy who brings his goat into town all the time and it follows him like a dog. But all I saw was a huge unfettered goat prancing through town.  Geez, I need to get out more...or listen more...

Our tour guide recommended Murphy's in Killarney as the best ice cream ever.  He went on and on about it for two days. Maybe, but for 6 pounds apiece for two teeny-tiny scoops, that's dinner. We would have been smarter to stick to the free samples they were handing out. I just feel it only civilized to buy something after you have been plied with so many tasty bribes. Wrong.

Dinner tonight was cheese and crackers and a restful evening. As we keep waking up at dawn, 4:30 or 5 am we tend to get sleepy earlier. That coupled with the sheer terror of the "Kerry" ride and a lot of walking today. I believe we bought the cheese and crackers in a tiny little shop as I could not quite understand the sweet lady who kept slicing off different cheeses for us to try. All the cheese was made by local farmers and the variety was intriguing and tasty. I bet they don't even know how their cheese is going to turn out, but considering the amount of sheep everywhere it's probably somewhat consistent.

Another interesting fact. Burt has an ear for the accents and figures out what they're saying way before I do. Though he said it was a challenge translating four different ones before breakfast most days. That includes our bus group.

So after an elaborate Italian dinner last night, we were content with ice cream, cheese, crackers and trail mix tonight. Definitely have not been hungry on this trip. Huge breakfasts, which after two days I switched to yogurt and cereal; tea and scone (with clotted cream & jam, yumm) breaks, lunch, snacks in the afternoon, dinner; there is no time for hunger pangs.

The ruined churches and abandoned, crumbling houses speak volumes about the cruel treatment of Catholics and the angst of the potato famine. Among much beauty, there is much history that has been left intact to educate future generations. The difference between the have and have nots is on display and many, in the places we visited, rely on tourism to survive. To Be Continued....