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Published: January 30th 2007
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Not wanting to repeat our mistake of the day before, we had arranged for a cab to take us to the bus stop in nearby Carlow Town, so we could catch our quick half hour bus to Kilkenny. We related the ‘Len’ story to the cab driver and he chuckled and said “Ah sure, I know Leonard.” After dropping us off, the cabbie honked and waved goodbye before pulling away. I felt like my dad had just dropped me off at a high school dance - except my dad never charged me $25. This was the first place we’d been to that didn’t have an actual bus station where we could buy tickets and ask questions at a kiosk, so a nice local made sure we got on the right bus and indeed told us where to get off (there are two stops in Kilkenny - one at the rail station and one that drops you right in the centre of town, so you want to get off at the right one for your needs). From the stop in the town centre, we made the long, but flat trek to our B&B on College Road, called The Laurels, where Brian McHenry greeted us. We were too early for our room, so Brian suggested we leave our bags and go exploring a bit. We took his suggestion, and walked back to the city centre, enjoying the gorgeous warm weather and sunshine.
Now, here’s my Kilkenny confession - I had printed off a walking tour for us to do, so we could see some of the Kilkenny sights, but we did none of it, not even the famous Kilkenny Castle. Still, both of us found the map that came with the tour very useful, and Jenn was taken by the poem about the fighting cats of Kilkenny. I’d definitely like to go back again and see more of the city. Kilkenny was awash in black and yellow; everyone was obviously very proud of their champion hurling team. We ate some paninis at Café Catz (or Catz Café, can’t remember which) and then spent the entire afternoon shopping. I was charmed by the medieval streets of Kilkenny and both of us lost track of time. We made our way down the Butter Slip, a little covered alleyway which connects two main streets, and which now houses several craft shops. It was used by women selling butter in medieval times, and still retains its medieval charm. We each bought a really cute shirt/dress thingy, which has been getting me a ton of compliments now that I’m back home. It fits perfectly. I love being able to tell people “Kilkenny” when they ask me where I got it. We also spent about an hour at an internet café, doing an email check and sending out a final update on our trip to friends and family.
When we finally returned to the B&B, with tired feet and lighter wallets, Brian showed us to our room and gave us a ring with two keys on it. I asked if one was for the front door, and with a gleam in his eye he replied, “Are you kidding? I don’t want to be woken up when you two come stumbling home at 2:00 am.” Does our reputation precede us? We picked up some more paninis and some Fat Frog at a nearby Spar and got ourselves all prettied up. We had a bit of a walk ahead of us to get to the city centre, but the weather was so nice we weren’t too bothered. Crossing the River Nore, we stopped in at the first decent-looking place we saw, called Matt the Millers, on John Street. It was still fairly early and the band hadn’t started yet, though the crowd was building. After having a drink, we decided on a pub crawl and went further up the street to a place called Biddy Early’s. Wow. I felt ancient in there. I also heard the absolute WORST version of Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” ever, courtesy of a bride-to-be. One drink later, and further up John Street, we ended up at Langton’s, which I’d read about during the course of my research. We both thought it was a very nice bar, with comfy looking seats and an interesting layout.
We weren’t at Langton’s for long before a group of people at a table motioned us over and uttered the familiar phrase, “Can I ask you one question?” This time it was, “Have you ever seen Big Brother?” Having established that they were talking about the British version and not the American one, we said no. They then introduced us to one of their group who they said had been on the latest season of the British version - his name, apparently, was Spiral and he was from Finglas. ‘Spiral’ was quite entertaining, signing autographs for all kinds of women and doing some kind of ridiculous rap that had apparently landed on the charts in Ireland. When I got back, I looked him up on the internet. Still not sure if it was really him, but why he would lie about being that guy, I do not know. I ended up going off to get some drinks, and had a very nice conversation with a local couple, who had actually met in Langton’s and were now married. I actually took off my shoe and sock to show them my tattoo. That was a first for me, but possibly not a last, unfortunately.
I also chatted with a group of people who were down from Dublin. Their 25 year old son, brother, nephew, friend had passed away the year before from cancer, and they were in Kilkenny for the weekend, celebrating his life - they were going to do something similar every year, and make it a tradition. This really touched and inspired me - instead of grieving on the anniversary of his death, his loved ones gathered together to celebrate what he meant to them. These were extraordinary people.
I eventually found Jenn, who had been enjoying Spiral and co.’s interesting stories, and we scraped our leftover euro coins together to get a cab back to the Laurels, where we were careful not to wake Brian or anyone else up.
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