Ireland - part 4

You just can't leave two lone chocolate covered McVitie's biscuits sitting alone in their packet in a darkened drawer so that you won't see them. They just keep eerily whispering your name and sending out telepathic messages of chocolate deliciousity. Am sitting in bed (catty-cornered to desk) making glutton of self. Have one more left. And then, will buy no more until 2007. At least not myself. Goodness... no self-control. Okay, the last one is gone! Whew!

notes for today:
**My friend, Lisa's 6 year old niece, Olivya, passed away on Easter Day after an infection and surgery were too much for her little body. Poor little angel.
**Saw kitty friend today. So sweet!
**Talked to my kitty on the phone this weekend - she licked the phone :)
**Reid and Jenn's #2 arrived on St. Paddy's Day! (Arden is her name. That is quite dramatic and famous sounding. I love it.)
**Munster will be playing Biarritz in the Heineken Cup on 20 May! I seem to be the only person excited about this.
**All the triplets are finally home. Yay!
**Cousine Lindsey has perhaps gotten the coolest retro dining set.
**Cousine Meredith is graduating some time in the next 2 weeks.
**Have eaten all of Greek Easter bread Georgia brought home from Greece.
**In Italy (and, according to Maurizio, all over the Continent), 13 is not unlucky; 17 is... this is because in Roman numerals, it is written xvii. And if you move the 'x' between the 2 'i's then it spells 'vixi', which is the first person past tense of 'to live'. Therefore, 'I lived'. This logical process seems slightly questionable to me. Thirteen is much more logical.
**Therese has emailed me that the last hurricane shelter is closing in Shreveport... no comment. but it is interesting.
**It has been claimed by The Irish on our course that goat's milk improves concentration. Katharine said that goat milk tastes, well, goat-y. I may try it anyway...
**Fabiana's bike has been vandalised for a THIRD time! Barbarians...
**Why is the Eurovision Song contest considered a worthy news story? And for more than a week now?

Okay, down to finishing Ireland trip...

10 April (cont.)
There is not a lot to do (nightwise) in Kinsale on a Monday night in the off-season. However... there is the best comedy piano show at the White House Inn and, oh my Lord, did we ever hurt our stomachs laughing. And we met random people. And were forced to do high kicks to 'New York, New York' with two New York girls who were also there (we were the token Americans for the evening). Excellent fun. Everyone was singing pub songs that we had just learned. Unbelievable.

11 April
Tuesdays in Kinsale is the Farmer's Market. There are some really old sites in Kinsale, but the Desmond Castle (400 years old) and (horror!) St. Multose's Church (1190) were closed. So more retail therapy. And then back to the White House for more musical fantabulous fun! Clare bought the CD, so we will be able to teach all of you the words to 'Amanda':

And when I met Amanda,
I threw away my panda...
(and it just gets better from there)

12 April
This is the day that shocked all of the Dubliners when we arrived... it was really nothing in American terms of travel.
We left Kinsale late, drove confusedly through Cork, which is undergoing an absurd amount of highway construction and signage is rather vexingly scattered. I was getting high blood-pressure. But we made it through, sprinted to the top of Bunratty Castle, stood in line, kissed Blarney Stone, sprinted back down, bought postcards and a Diet Coke and madly drove back to Cork, heading toward Waterford.

(It looks like I am being choked by my scarf while being man-handled by random old man. Am being choked by scarf, but the way you have to kiss the stone is to lay down backwards, grab the two handles -- as demonstrated to L -- and kiss the stone upside down. The man is there so that you don't go plummeting through the edge there. He is not a very happy person, which is a shame as he gets to hold women by the waist all day long. Why are both of my hands facing the same way? Does that mean I am a vampire or something?)

Foolishly, I decided had overwhelming need for a Munster hoodie, so we went on this ridiculous wild-goose-chase for one and could not find one that a) had a zipper all the way down the front AND b) was a small. So, we had to leave empty-handed. Yet richer for the experience.
(As well, would like to point out that Wild Geese was the name given to those who fled Ireland during the 17th, 18th and early 19th centuries due to religious persecution and economic reasons.)

Drove like mad to Waterford, stopped at gift shop. Succeeded in not tripping or knocking anything over, especially the 500,000 euro Cinderella carriage. (why?)
THEN, I drove to Dublin for us (my license was here in Cardiff in my room -- such a good place for it to be, but Clare had driven all over God's creation at this point). Was quite proud of self for driving backwards!
Dumped stuff at B&B (after AM took 15 minutes to parallel park backwards -- not good times, yet funny), Pauline and Frank collected us in cab on way to Neary's Pub. And that's pretty much all she wrote... Ken met us out. Good times, good times! And Clare even ate a takeaway burger, which she apparently does not consider quality food... foolish girl. We'll learn you :)

13 April
Well, when we finally got ourselves in gear to turn the car in at the airport, i had forgotten my Dublin street map in the room. Was getting out of car to walk up and get it, when Clare says, "No! Let me drive you." There was no need as we were parked 5 houses away -- really, not a hike. "It'll be faster,"says Clare. "Just TRUST me!" Twenty-three minutes later when we completed a driving tour of the endless rabbit warren of alley-ways in the Harolds Cross area, we did indeed pull up outside Claughton House... (L is view of Dublin from Ha'penny Bridge. my little shoe mit was using as camera protection has now been littered into the River Liffey due to fabulously violent wind.)

When we dropped the car off, they didn't even inspect it; just asked if there were any problems :) Run away! Poor hubcaps.

By this point, was fainting from hunger, so when we made it back into town, went straight to Temple Bar area and found pizza sustenance. Toodled around neighborhood and peered in some shops. Clare finally got ice cream. And then, it was time to meet Pauline again! Yay! This evening began at The Temple Bar (to R), which is partly owned by Bono.

14 April
This was a really painfully early morning. [This was result of us (interpret, Attracter of Crazies) meeting random Sun Ireland editor-type character, and five of us going for a 90 euro cup of tea. At least Crazy person paid for it all.] Then, I forgot my calendar -- with passport inside -- at B&B; brilliant. Lovely hostess found it on entry table and called us from right down the road, so cab could rush back. Whew! Flew to Cardiff on vexatious flight seated amidst and amongst 97 14-year-old loud and gaseous rugby boys gone amok. Herds of young males are annoying.

So, back home and all is well!

Should I go buy more chocolate covered biscuits?
Someone is ringing a tinkly, tiny bell outside my window... (???)