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Published: October 17th 2007
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After leaving Cashel, I headed west. It was nice to be in a rental car again, because it meant I could veer wildly off the road when I saw a sign pointing to a pottery place. I had heard that Ireland was even worse than England for timely and communicative road signage, but I didn't find that to be true. With a map and some planning, I got everywhere I wanted to go - lazy ferry drivers aside.
I did have some issues skirting Limerick, though. It was easier said than done, because the road signs pointed me in a direction that was the complete opposite of my end goal. Turns out they were right, though - even though I still don't know what path I took around the city. I just know that I had to go through (literally) about 25 roundabouts and was getting quick sick of it (and maybe a little sick) by the time I was done.
After that, I refueled in Shannon. I didn't actually need gas at all; my rented Peugeot just had aspirations of being more like Air Force One. 😊 But I think the Peugeot's lofty aspirations are unfounded - I
much preferred the Vauxhall Corsa that I rented in Scotland. Much more zippy. And it had cruise control. And air conditioning. Side question: Which logo would win in a fight, the
Peugeot boxing lion or the
Vauxhall eagle? (Click on the links to aid your decision.)
I hit some construction and had to do some backtracking around Ennis, then went off the main roads and REALLY had to rely on the road signs to head for the Cliffs of Moher (pronounced "More"). The views along the way were beautiful, and the un-flattest golf course I had ever seen was packed. (Seriously. Very narrow steep hills everywhere, right smack in the middle of the course.)
Once at the cliffs, I paid an exorbitant fee to park in the very crowded parking lot, then joined the masses on the cliffs. The cliffs tower over the Atlantic for about five miles, providing stunning views. In the not-too-far-off distance, I could see the Aran Islands, which were to be my next destination. (Alas, that plan was foiled. Did I mention the lazy ferry drivers?) The place was crawling with tourists speaking all languages in all accents. Amateur musicians play for money along the paved paths,
everything from traditional Irish harp to banjo. Barriers protect you from the fall... unless you continue along the coast and climb over the barrier that says "Private Property" where there are no protective barriers. I know because I saw other people do it. Yeah, that's it. I didn't trespass. And some of my best pictures didn't come from over there. Honest. (Ahem.)
After taking in enough of the views, I went to the gift shop to see about the ferries to the Aran Islands. My goal in going there (and indeed, the whole reason why I'd ventured over the west part of Ireland to begin with) was to pester the knitters. I love knitting garments where cables go mad and run amok. I wanted to bug them until they gave me all their secrets. Did you know that the origin of Aran knitting patterns was that every fishing family had their own pattern, so if there was a storm and a body washed up on shore, they could identify it by the sweater? Anyway, it was about 2 pm, so I figured I'd take the ferry over, spend a few hours, then come back and find a place to
spend the night closer to Dublin, where I planned to spend the next day. Turns out that those communist Aran Island ferry drivers were only taking people who planned to spend the night there - they decided it was already too late in the day to bring anyone back later. It's not as if it was that far - I could see the islands! Harrumph.
So back on the road, then. I took the scenic route up towards Galway and stopped frequently to take pictures, peruse shops, and even have tea in Ballyvaughan. Then I decided that since I had a long day of sightseeing in Dublin ahead of me, I would drive and get as close to Dublin as I could before I had to stop. Turns out I got all the way to the outskirts of Dublin again. In the interests of parking, I decided to stay outside the city. I tried really,
really,
REALLY hard to find a place to stay in Maynooth, mainly because I liked the name. (It reminded me of my little brother's name for me before he could pronounce Mary - "Maynah.") I drove back and forth through the town a few
times and stopped at several B&Bs, but they were all full for the night. I finally got the last room at a hotel down the road. It used to be this old horse farm, apparently, though I wouldn't have guessed that if they didn't tell me. My room smelled like cigarette smoke, but since it was the last room, and I was tired, I put up with it. I also couldn't get the lights to come on - turns out you had to put your room key in a slot inside the door to make the electricity work. Very odd.
In any case, I went to the hotel lounge, where people were watching soccer (I just now thought of it as football in my head!), and had soup and a Guinness. And it's true what they say! Guinness actually DOES taste better in Ireland! There was a nice bite to it that I've never experienced before.
After a while, it seemed that musicians were setting up to play. I was already exhausted, but I wanted to see them. People started filling up the bar, asking me to move to another table so they'd all fit, then more people
plopped themselves down at THAT table... I tried to strike up a conversation, but we literally had trouble understanding each other. Their Irish accents were so thick, and who knows what they thought of my American one. I had already been mistaken for an Australian (huh?) that day... The band set up all their equipment and then abandoned it to go shovel down a dinner. I asked if they'd be on soon, but they didn't plan on starting for another hour and a half... sheesh.
It had been a long day. So I went to bed with no music and a smoky smell. Sigh. When I look back on it, the day really didn't go as planned. But I saw some beautiful countryside and mingled with the locals a (very little) bit. Next stop: Dublin.
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