After dropping our luggage off at the hotel in Dublin, we dragged our travel-weary bodies to the Guinness Storehouse and brewery. We ended the visit there with a pint of Guinness and the best views of Dublin at the Gravity Bar. (Well, pint for Kenneth... I got only a few sips.)
Back in the 1700s, Arthur Guinness signed a lease with the city of Dublin to use a few hundred acres of land to brew beer. The lease was for 9,000 years at 45 pounds per year. Obviously, Guinness isn't likely to move operations elsewhere any time soon. The lease is the picture above.
The next day we visited Kilmainham Gaol, a debtor's prison until the late 1800s, and in the years leading up to and during the fight for independence from England, the prison where political prisoners were kept. The conditions were terrible-- 5 people to a cell, cold, damp, and dark. Makes you wonder why anyone ever broke a law then. Touring it wasn't exactly romantic, but it did give us a better idea of the history of the country we were in. The chapel above is where the prisoners were given last rites before being pushed out the doors behind the alter to be hanged.
The Jameson Distillery wasn't as fun as the Guinness Brewery. It was a little too cartoony and Disneyland-esque. Definitely a disappointment, but there was free whiskey (for Ken) at the end.
Kilkenney Castle, in Kilkenney, where we stopped on our way to Waterford. We should have stopped there rather than going to Waterford. Waterford was totally disappointing, except for the crystal factory, which was very cool.
They don't make anything here anymore besides prestige pieces (trophies, very special/very expensive orders) and special orders of archived designs, but that means they have their very best artisans there. They're apprentices for 10 years before they start cutting pieces for sale, they don't use templates. And everything Waterford makes (in Waterford or elsewhere) is handmade. Look at that guy engraving up there... no gloves, no templates, and every cut precise.
We stopped here, at the Rock of Cashel or St. Patrick's Rock on the way to Dingle from Waterford. St. Patrick baptized a pagan king here, and that's when most of Ireland became Catholic. Up on that hill is a cathedral, the archbishop's castle, and other buildings where church officials lived.
This is the cross that marked the spot where St. Patrick baptized the king. It had been outside for 1000+ years, but they brought it into the museum on the hill to protect it. Then they put a replica outside.
Scene from on top of the Rock of Cashel.
Scenes from Dingle. We LOVED Dingle and spent 3 nights there. It's a small town (1000+) on a peninsula on the west coast of the island. The people there are native Gaelic (Irish) speakers, but everyone speaks English too. Kind of like Quebec. Anyway, we loved Dingle because this is where we actually started to feel like we were actually in Ireland-- interacting with Irish people, experiencing the Irish countryside, etc.
While we were in Dingle, we took 2 day trips driving around the Dingle peninsula, and then we did the Ring of Kerry the following day. The Ring of Kerry is a lot more popular, but I don't get why. Dingle was much more beautiful.
We decided to slow down a bit while we were in Dingle. We opted out of going to Northern Ireland except for Belfast (though we still weren't able to get there on the day we planned for it). Instead we spent more time in Dingle and planned for a couple of rest days in Dublin before heading home... anyway, pictures from the Dingle Peninsula...
SHEEP!
I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but the water in some areas was the same crystal greeny-blue that you see in Hawaii. I thought the sun had to be strong enough and the water shallow enough to create that color and clarity in ocean water, but apparently not. It was beautiful.
On our "self-guided tour" of the Dingle Peninsula, Rick Steves directed us to an old church down an isolated lane. This didn't look right, but we stopped anyway and started walking around. When we got to the back, there was a sign that said "Private Property! Go AWAY!" Oops. (I'm pretty sure only squatters lived there considering the condition of the place, but it was still enough for us to hightail it out of there.)
Ring of Kerry
We stopped for tea at a REALLY fancy hotel. It was the fanciest place Rick Steves has ever sent us to. We were a bit unprepared to be surrounded by 70 year old Englishmen in suits reading the newspaper before they left for the golf course. Not while we were wearing REI clothes designed for travel... (um, in other words, we were not fancy.) It was a nice little stop though.
The Roaming Gnome... yes, we brought him with us, and we still did the whole trip with just a carry-on sized suitcase each.
St. Bridget's Well. I don't remember what St. Bridget did here, but I wanted to visit because I was born on St. Bridget's day... I'm Irish, etc. etc. The walls of this little cave are lined with mementos people have left while praying there for a miracle.
If the water didn't look so septic, I might have touched it and made a little sign of the cross on myself. But I couldn't do it. I was afraid of picking up a disease. Ew.
We stopped at the Cliffs of Moher on our way from Dingle to Westport. We went to Westport, the biggest town in County Mayo and on the northwest coast of the island, since Ken's great-grandparents emigrated from County Mayo to Montana (so his grandma was 100% Irish). Westport was nice, but it was no Dingle.
Back in Dublin, we went to the breakfast place we should've visited all along. Everywhere else we went, our breakfast options were a pastry or the "full Irish"-- Full Irish means sausage, Irish bacon, eggs (fried, unless you asked for something else, and the eggs were always served on top of toast), brown bread, grilled tomatoes, black and/or white pudding. Basically, grease with a side of grease. Not easy when you're still dealing with morning sickness. This place though had variety. It was lovely. (Sidenote: I plan NOT to have eggs for breakfast for the next month.)
Also-- I went to Italy and came back determined to learn to make my own pasta. And with a newfound love for pecorino. I came back from Ireland with a love for brown bread and butter from grass fed cows. The bread is nutty, hearty, and wholesome. The butter everywhere in Ireland was creamy and had a richer color too. Yum.
Last day in Dublin, walking home from the trendy part of town, where we had our last Irish dinner.
