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Published: September 14th 2012
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The morning of 9/10 I said goodbye to Brittney, who was checking out of the room and going to explore the peninsula by bike. I wasn't quite up for that, so I set out to look into taking a tour, since I had decided to put it off the day before. The place I tried to take the archaeological tour from hadn't gotten any interest that day (Sunday), so the guy apologized and turned me away. Betsy had suggested that tour, as had Rick Steves, so I was a bit disappointed I couldn't go.
I went back to the tourist center in Dingle to see if any other tours were going out. They said there really wasn't anything today but suggested a boat tour of the Dingle harbor. The first place I tried wasn't going out because again, no one had booked it for that day. So I checked the Fungie dolphin boat trip--Fungie is the Dingle dolphin, of which there is a statue, who signifies care for the earth/environment, I believe. There were people in line, so even though it was a touristy themed boat trip, I decided I wanted to have a tour of something even though I
couldn't go on the one I wanted.
On the boat with 26 others, I met a Swiss couple with a puppy named Bianca, who I quickly made friends with. Bianca was a sweetie, as have been most of the dogs I've encountered here (dogs are everywhere, and very rarely on leashes). Out on the harbor I got to see the real live dolphin, but I was more excited to be out on a boat, looking out at the Atlantic and around at the grassy, rocky hills speckled with caves. It rained lightly, but quickly cleared and the sun was out by time the boat headed back to the dock. I was very glad I went to grin and bear the tourist attraction, as it was indeed worth it.
Since the boat tour was only about 90 minutes, when I got back to the dock I was still determined to see more of Dingle before I left the next morning. I checked back at the tourist office and apparently there was a chance that one would be going out if a couple who had booked a van driver were going to make it from Tralee that afternoon by 3:00
PM. The bus driver would take a minimum of 3 people on a 2-hour tour of the peninsula. So I was told to check back with them at 3:00. I went off to walk around town again and then went back. No word from the Tralee couple yet. I sat still for a while and just waited. Finally, I saw the bus driver (John, a big-bellied, blue-eyed man) come in to talk to the visitor center employees. I walked over to hear what was happening and he was saying that the tour was off. Then he saw my disappointed face and agreed to go out for an hour tour with just me. I was so happy. The ladies at the visitor desk said, "Good man." He had just come in from another tour, and it had poured rain, so he was drenched and wanted to go back to his house first to change clothes. I climbed up the two stairs to get into his passenger van and we were off.
His house was brightly painted yellow, clothes out on the clothesline, and a beautiful brown horse in the fenced yard. When he returned I asked if the horse was
his and he said it was! I thought of my uncle who loves horse racing when he told me the story: the brown horse was the foal of a champion racer mother, who'd won 35 races. The foal was about 2 1/2, but he said the stallion father was a strong horse, so he is hoping that the foal will turn out to be a good race horse like his mother. He won't begin training for another year or so. He said that he and his siblings had gotten the mother by a lucky accident--she'd had a bad sore on one leg after being taken away from the sea, where she'd grown up, and the owner was considering having her put down since the sore was worsening. Since John lives near the sea, he'd offered him a low price if he'd be willing to care for her and see that her leg saw the salt water again. He'd agreed, and a few weeks later her sore healed and they started racing her. I don't think John told me the mother's name, but they've been calling her foal "Brine," which may or may not be his racing name.
John took
me around to Dunbeg Fort (built in 500 BC), to Com Dhineol (the most beautiful beach in Ireland), multiple cliff overlooks over the water, another beach, a sheep pen, and all with lots of commentary. He made a special trip to Com Dhineol for me since I told him I loved beaches. He let me out to walk around there and I must've had the most elated expression because when I returned to the van he told me that he'd said to himself, "She thinks she's in heaven." How cool is that, given my heaven-on-earth encounter in Tralee? I quickly replied, "I am!"
He talked of pottery shops, the "Sleeping Giant" island/rock formation, and the other tours and work he does. I told him I'd give him a tour of DC if he comes to America; he's never been, but would like to. So, I ended up with my own private tour and having a personal photographer at all the places we stopped. It never ceases to amaze me how some things just work out better than you ever imagine. It didn't even rain on my tour; John said I was as lucky as a shamrock. He ended up
spending a full two hours with me instead of one. When it was over and I got out back by the tourist center, the last thing I said to John was, "Thanks for showing me heaven!" He beamed back at me.
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