Another lovely day in the making

The sun is uncertain and there's a cold wind, but I still managed to get a few minutes of reading in the sun beside the pool. I even took my sweater off and pulled my pant legs up to my knees. Soon, the thoughtful and generous Susan will be picking me up at the hotel. We may go to a light lunch someplace in Orlando. It's a drive (we took it the day before yesterday in a rented car) so it's very nice of her on many levels to come on over and see me.

People are wearing parkas, but it's not that cold for a northerner. Still, I'm going to bundle up if I decide to go hot tubbing later on. The official high temp predicted for today is 55, more than twenty below the average for this time of year. Not exactly brr, but it's a lot less fun to hot tub and then be nothing but layers on layers of goosepimples by the time I make it to the door leaving the pool area.

I'm not disappointed by the weather (much--it would have been sooooo fun to spend time at the water park right across the street.) It's been fun and relaxing and the flowers, wow, the flowers. So many varieties in bloom right now, and it's winter. I wonder how it looks in spring and summer. And the orange juice, and the margaritas .... Ripe citrus, really ripe, hand-squeezed, is amazing.

I love the bright orange of ripening oranges on the trees when we drive past the orange groves. I saw a nursery selling potted citrus trees--they were heavy with fruit and I so wanted to take one home, but it's impractical on a gizillion different levels. My orange trees really suffer, especially over the winter.

I truly love the Pacific Northwest. Having said that, there are a lot of really fascinating, wonderful and beautiful places in the world and I'm glad I get to visit them. Given a chance, I'd love to see Orlando again. Maybe next time, the sun will be out a bit more.

Happy happy sun sun

It's cool and cloudy, but for a brief time this morning the sun came out. I got to be there, by the hot tub (and in the hot tub) actually basking. I'd forgotten how good it felt. Not as good as gardening (weirdly, because gardening is hard!) but relaxing and soothing, like a gentle massage. R. got his requested time by the pool with a bikini-clad wife, and I got to do some reading on graphic design but mostly I reclined beneath the golden warmth of that strange and seldom-seen-in-winter object in the sky that I love so much.

I taught belly dance to martial artists, decompressed at a dog park and got to fawn over lots of really neat dogs, had great Cuban food in Mt. Dora, a great margarita at the hotel bar, incredible censored and I've had some decent work time. I might even get some stuff actually done. I'm hoping for more sunshine later, too. Because as much as I like getting stuff done, I really, really love the SUN.

Arrival in Orlando

I've never been to Florida before.

Although I'm physically here, I haven't done anything yet. Took a cab from the airport to the hotel. Orlando from the air at night, btw, is incredibly beautiful. I love the scent in the air. And though it's a 'cold' night (59˚F) it feels warm to me.

Bear in mind that the average temperature in the heated part of the house is about 60˚, varying between 54 and 68. Downstairs ... yeah. My fingers go numb when I'm typing on the computer downstairs.

So I'm sure that while everyone in Florida will be bundled up against the cold snap, I'll be in shorts.

I'm so tired I'm itchy. My internal clock should be telling me that it's a bit after 10pm, but it's past 1am here and I feel like that's the more accurate time. That's probably a good thing.

Sadly, won't be sleeping in tomorrow. Having said that, I'm all kinds of excited to be here. Right now I want to sleep in, but I betcha I'll wake up tomorrow wanting to dash out the door to spend time with friends I haven't seen in years and years and to see the palm trees by daylight and see real, actual, golden and warm sunlight. Feel it on my skin. Taste it in the air.

It's going to be a beautiful day.

Beyond the River

I love traveling to eastern Oregon. Beautiful country, wonderful people.

There's a roughness to the soil and to the bark of trees in the high desert. The quality of the greens speak of thrift and toughness. The rivers are wild, liquid gems--not just beautiful, but much more obviously precious because of the dry all around them. Juniper, sage and pine lend an incense-like perfume to the air. And this time of year there's a sharpness to0--the clean cold. To me it doesn't seem to go deep as fast as the same temperature in the wet regions, but it's fierce and wakes up my mind. Coming into that cold from a warmer, wet area, I'm startled when I step outside or crack the car window, but I warm right back up when I'm sheltered again.

I'm snuggled up right now, with gorgeous hand-knitted socks on my feet (thank you J!) My belly is full, and I'm quiet in my heart. I'm glad we made the trip.

Like any other life experience, travel can inspire writing. I don't think it's essential to good writing, but it sure helps to have direct knowledge of ecosystems and cultures beyond the places you live and shop and go to the dentist. Going from suburb to urban, urban to rural, across the railroad tracks, across the state line, across the nation border can not only provide a foundation for writing about new places, but lend a new perspective on your regular stomping grounds. Even when I write about home, I have a sense of what's just a few hours of driving away, beyond the river in view of mountains strange and wonderful to my eyes.

Another Journey Coming Soon

Looks like I'll be going to Istanbul for a week.  The song always goes through my head.  But also, mosques, magical cisterns, turkish baths, baklava, islands, golden treasures, dancing, amazing music, drums, seafood, sailing ships, carpets, veils, hats, dark eyes, big smiles, busy streets, dates, eggplant, spices, silk ... a place where many cultures meet, a destination so famous it seems cliche' if a world traveler mentions they've been to Istanbul.  I felt connected to Ireland.  Istanbul will truly be a foreign country for me with very little to internally reference it except what I've read in history books.  (I'm ignoring Hollywood references.  Yuck.)

As per usual I won't say much about it until I get back, for security reasons but also because there's only so much readers can take of the squee and the packing and all that.  Also as usual I'll take lots of photos and do a series on Turkey when I get back.  Wish me luck.

Blarney

Ireland.

I have to admit that one of my favorite places in Ireland is one of the most notoriously commercialized.  This is one of many places we visited where traveling in Ireland off-season made the experience very worthwhile.

When we arrived in town, it had been raining off and on.  It cleared long enough for a spectacular sunset.  From the driveway of our B&B, I managed to get a photo of the castle in the distance with the early part of the sunset peeking through a window.  

Our host advised us to go to the castle early, or an hour before closing, as the buses of tourists don't run at the verges of the castle's visiting hours.  He'd heard on the news that the weather would break in the afternoon the next day, and hoped for us that the weatherman was right.

It rained in the morning and early afternoon, so we toured the stores and the town square hoping the rain would let up.  The weather and time of year kept it from being crowded, and we were able to spend some relaxing hours writing, reading, and taking in the local atmosphere in a comfortable pub.  The rain did relax, so we walked over and arrived at the castle gates about 45 minutes before they stopped admitting new arrivals.  A sign let us know that we wouldn't be booted off the grounds for a bit after that, and the gatekeeper assured us we'd have plenty of time to see everything so long as we went to the castle straightaway.

The castle is more complex and interesting than I ever imagined.  Nooks and steep spiral staircases abounded.  The center of the main building had no floors anymore, so there's a view several stories down as you approach the top.  On the way up, often there's another diversion somewhere, or another tower to climb, so that it seems you'll never see it all.  At times the view from a walkway or tower set off my mild fear of heights, and I was grateful for the frequent breaks on our ongoing climb.  It would be very difficult for someone of frail health or with a disability to get anywhere inside the castle.

The location of the Blarney Stone is much higher than I realized it would be.  Those who used to come to kiss the Blarney Stone before safety committees existed quite literally took their lives into their hands.  Now there's a gate to keep you from plummeting to your doom if you slip, but it would be an unpleasant fall onto it, and wouldn't trust it to hold me.  It might slow me down long enough for the employees to grab my ankles and pull me to safety.

Yes, I know what locals do to the stone.  I kissed it anyway.  I'm a writer in my heart, and the history of it is too irresistible.  Besides, it had been raining all day, and it didn't smell funny.  I've done worse things, and it was a lot of fun.

The best was yet to come.  The grounds are amazing, and unlike the castle, there are plenty of places for people with physical challenges to explore.  But even in the garden, there are hidden steps, steep hollows, and potentially dangerous areas including some fast water, so it's a good idea to take it slow and keep a close eye on small children.  As a gardener and appreciator of nature, I felt like I'd took a strange turn into a different world.  The garden is old, and despite being overrun relentlessly for years, it has held onto a magical undercurrent and ancient power that our entire family felt.  I didn't take many pictures as a result.  At one point the men and the women went down separate paths.  What secret rites or mysteries the men wove into, I have no knowledge of.  I hold my own memories close.

Blarney is a place to bring a sketch pad, or watercolors, or a good camera, but it's also a place to meditate, or play, or relax.  By all means have fun at the castle, but for me, the real power of Blarney is in the land and the good nature of its besieged locals.  If you want to check off a world-famous landmark, you'll only need two or three hours for the castle, grounds, and soup at the pub.  But there's much more to find there if you're patient, lucky, crafty, humble, and quiet.

(last photo by my DH)

Kylemore Abbey

Ireland.

One of the must-stop places in Ireland is Kylemore Abbey.  The grounds are graced not only with the Benedictine abbey itself, but a gothic church and a Victorian Walled Garden.  The interior of the abbey has some interesting artifacts.  Part of the building isn't accessible, because it's still in use, but the areas that visitors are allowed in are plenty to hold a history buff's interest.

A lakeshore walk through woods took us to the gothic church, a small but ornate and lovingly-kept piece of architecture.  Although I was impressed by the building, especially the incredible interior colors and ceiling, I have to admit I was distracted by the birds.  This is a bird-watcher's paradise, and I really wished I had a zoom lens and tripod with me.  Their songs surrounded us.  On the path, signs help bird watchers and folk who appreciate wildlife identify what they might be looking at.  I really wished I could have seen a badger, but alas, the only one we saw in all of Ireland had been killed by a car.  I spoke with a local about wildlife and she lamented that hedgehogs had declined lately and she hardly ever saw them anymore.  Again, sadly, we saw a hedgehog, but only a roadkill.

Those of you involved with a horticulturist, be prepared to sit back and spend some time here, because the gardens are a work of art-in-progress.  We walked, but there's a bus for visitors who don't want to hike the not-insignificant distance up to the Victorian walled garden.  One of the most fascinating things about this garden is the painstaking restoration process its undergoing.  Horticultural archeologists are analyzing leaf and other plant deposits to determine what originally grew where.  The greenhouses are being rebuilt.  This particular garden had some innovative design features, including piped heat, that must have made it a wonder to behold in its time.  Right now the garden is very young, but I can see in my mind's eye what it will be when it's all grown up and I'm thrilled to consider its future.  For avid gardeners, they provide plant lists, which I had to take home of course.

The gift shop deserves special mention.  It has some quality artwork and handmade goods at reasonable prices.  If you see something at this shop, don't resist if you really want it.  There's a possibility you'll find some of the items there for slightly less somewhere else, but chances are you won't find these things anywhere else at all.  I looked, because there was a statue I wanted, but I never saw the artist's work displayed anywhere else we went.

Having said that, the cookies were not to our taste.  The birds at the bed and breakfast we stayed at that night, however, loved them.

Glendalough

Ireland.

One of the first places we visited out of Dublin was Glendalough, and that turned out to be the perfect introduction to Ireland.   We left Dublin and headed toward Military Road on the advice of one of my tour books.  I'm glad we did.  The little-traveled route helped us learn how to drive on the left and cope with narrow Irish roads without having to worry too much about a head-on collision.  We did have to watch for sheep, though.  They often wandered the roads, and one fearless little lamb even stopped to nurse briefly while we waited for a small herd to leave the road.

The real gem in the region, though, is the monastic settlement.  A round tower, ruins, and well-kept hiking trails could keep a soul busy for the entirety of a day, so if you like to hike, bring a picnic meal.  Jackdaws nest inside the roundtower windows.  Ancient and modern graves share an extensive graveyard, with warning signs put up by the government reminding locals that no burials are allowed within certain of the ruins.  The hills and river (we thought the water was stained by peat, but it turns out much of the water is stained by iron that oxidizes when it becomes aerated, say, by the long waterfall near Glendalough) form a spectacular backdrop to the site.

A small village holds up well to the tourism in the area, with a gas station and well-stocked convenience store, lovely shops, and sizable restaurants.  The village compared favorably with far more developed areas, surprising considering the population is tiny.  I'm particularly grateful to the shop owner who advised me to get a book map of Ireland.  Combined with my very useful useless map (the scale gave me a great birds-eye view of the whole island but didn't have enough detail for proper navigation) I was able to tour us around Ireland without getting unintentionally lost.

Very nearby, we came across the miner's settlement.  Another perfect picnicking area, you can admire the view and kick through the tailings, check out exposed beams that used to frame pipes, and speculate on how the mining operation ran based on the buildings, paths, and framework.  

There's not much left to guess on, which makes it an intriguing puzzle.  Information signs help, but don't give away the whole picture, letting the visitor figure out much of it for themselves.  My question was, how did they pump the water up to the mining area, or, if they didn't, was there a natural water source that's since dried up or diverted itself?

This is an intriguing area, and near enough to Dublin to daytrip.  We didn't return to Dublin, but continued onward toward the south coast, driving to areas I've already posted about, like Kilkenny, and others I haven't gotten to yet in my ongoing scattershot coverage of our vacation.

Bunratty

Ireland.

Specifically, Bunratty, an easy drive from Shannon.  Yes, it's touristy.  I don't care!  I loved the atmosphere.  Medieval feasts, a working potter, period furnishings not only in the castle but in the village, and the animals created a fun anachronistic (the sites at Bunratty vary wildly in period) park-like destination.  During the height of the tourist season, it probably is quite crowded and might get Disneyland-ish, but while we were there it was near-perfect. 

 Alas, to counterbalance our experience, a lot of the places within the park were closed or unattended.  You could still go inside the unattended buildings.  In the ones that were attended, we were able to sample bread made with period methods, and purchase pottery made on site, among other things.  [Fudge. *ahem*] 

I wish we could have stayed for the medieval feast at the castle.  Ten courses, if I remember correctly, with live period music and entertainment, and irish wolfhounds in attendance.

The keeper for the wolfhounds happened to walk them to the castle while we were on the last leg of our tour of the grounds.  We had to pet the dogs.  Had to.  People a bit more shy of dogs than we are watched rather than participated in the ongoing corruption of their doggerly obedience.  The dogs seemed much more interested in attention than dinner.

A walled garden, cottages designed to illustrate how people of different walks of life lived, mills (that I believe still grind flour!) sheep, a donkey, deer, a castle, hens, a manor house, pubs, a doctor's house, printer ... there's much to do and see at Bunratty, all kid appropriate without being insufferably downsized or safety-fascist so the adults can play and not feel stifled.

  Afterward, have a meal at Durty Nelly's, established 1620.  Yum.  It's just outside the park, so no need to pay an entrance fee to eat.  If you're with law enforcement, bring a spare patch from your jurisdiction.  They have them stapled to the beams.

I brought home a pin and a small pottery tea bag cup, for disposing used teabags in.  (Used teabags are useful for fertilizer, sunburns, and other oddball stuff--google sometime!)  It's also beautifully decorative, and if I was serving tea to friends I'd happily set it on the table so they could make use of it after their teabags were done steeping.  One of those things that you didn't know might be useful until you have it.

Bunratty is definitely high on my recommended list.  You'll have to decide for yourself whether it's better to visit during the height (more energy, more things to see and do, much more crowded) or during the off season (no crowds, quieter, potential to talk with guides and folk who work there about Bunratty and period life in general, fewer exhibits in full swing).  I haven't decided.  I guess I'll just have to try both.

Kilkenny

Ireland.

In contrast to the quiet village and rural splendor of Cong and Ashford Castle, Kilkenny is a lively, busy medieval town.  I recommend stopping at the tourist information centers anywhere in Ireland, but particularly in Kilkenny, the meeting place for a guided tour that will allow you to appreciate the town's rich, dual past.  As a dweller on the outskirts of a large metropolitan area, I enjoyed imagining two towns, side by side, experiencing medieval-style growing pains as they expanded into each other, echoed by our own area many times over.

The St. Canice's tower in Kilkenny turned out to be the only roundtower we found on our countrywide tour that gave visitors access to the interior and landing on  top.  The view is incredible, but the standing area is very narrow, so if you're nervous of heights, this place might give you the feeling of balancing on the top of a very long pole.  The neighboring church looks gorgeous from the tower top, but it has an even more exquisite interior.  I wished I'd brought blank newsprint--they might have given me permission to take rubbings of some of the tombs.  Worshippers and visitors have been walking on many of the church's memorials for centuries, so sadly, some of the inscriptions are so worn they can no longer be read.

Kilkenny Castle is furnished and gorgeous, and filled with artwork, including a modern gallery below.  Nearby, the Butler House marks the perimeter of an incredible marketplace with a gold smith, silver smith, dry goods store, restaurant and other businesses that have a soft, period feeling to them, as opposed to the modern shopping mall a short walk away that has all the usual suspects.  There are many other places to peruse in Kilkenny that have that same ancient feeling to them; restaurants, gardens, a farmer's market, an inn once owned by a reputed witch (and based on the stories, I'd say she may well have been, and a potent one at that!) and even a nursery that abuts the ruin of a church.  

This is a great place to visit when it's raining--plenty of things to do indoors.  If it happens to be sunny, though, all the better because there's a lovely riverwalk and extensive castle grounds.  It would be tough to decide where to have a picnic.  Might as well stay a few days and go to all of them.

Are you all green with envy yet?  Or orange?  Some people mentioned 'the troubles,' but not here in Kilkenny.  Someday I hope to go back to this peaceful, friendly town.

Ashford

Ireland.

We went to a lot of places, saw more than I can describe in even a dozen posts.

We stayed at Markree Castle, but before we got there we visited the other castle I considered staying at (but it was quite a bit more expensive.)  Ashford Castle is a five star hotel, and we weren't allowed inside.  But we were allowed to wander the grounds.  They included hundreds of acres of woods, a shooting range, impressive stables, and so on.  We crossed a bridge to get to Ashford, the first image on this blog post.  Guards at the gate took our entry fee.  My DH noted that he felt excluded since we couldn't go inside, but he was grinning.  We all were.  The place is magical.

It's hard to understand the scope of the castle itself without walking completely around it.  Before we did that, we roamed along the river and through woods.  Gunshots periodically pierced the quiet. We found a cave, and in it, pieces of orange skeet.  We decided that heading back might be a good idea, in case loose bullets might be flying in our vicinity.  On the way, we found the building where marksmen can shelter while playing.  The folk who'd been using it, if they had been there and weren't shooting at real pigeons on the trail, had left.  We didn't hear anything after that, though.

We found several gardens, all huge and old.  My favorite was the walled garden, in which there's an herb garden that looks like regular landscaping until you realize that the big shrubs matched in size to the roses were things like sage, rosemary and thyme.  Ancient, gnarled wood supported fat, fragrant sprigs that can be used in cooking or medicine.  They had a long arbor--hazelnuts, not grapes--shaped to bend sharply at about eight feet in height so that it was difficult to tell the trees apart from the supports.  This is what all gardens want to grow up to be.  I could have stayed for days and days.  Next time I'll bring shoes that look good but have a serious waffle sole so I can stomp around without slipping in the sometimes muddy areas.  Or just go horseback.  I didn't see signs that said we couldn't ride horses through the walled garden.  

I loved Ashford.  Loved it.  If you go to Ireland, you have to stay in Cong, visit Ashford Castle and the church and abbey, and be sure to bring your walkin' shoes and nice clothes for the day you visit the castle.  If you stay at the castle, bring your best clothes, and bear in mind that the restaurant is black tie.  And don't forget to stop by the Crow's Nest in Cong.  They do good food, and if you're looking for a brawl, that'd be the easiest place to get into one.

That probably bears further explanation.  These kids, on our way walking to the Crow's Nest, hooted and hollered while driving like Irishmen through the streets of Cong.  We went into the pub, and a few minutes later these same kids came in.  The four of them could only afford one cider.  The bartender gave it to them in the can with a glass upturned over it.  One of them tried to be impressive by picking it up by the glass and flipping it over ... and the cider ended up on the ground.  And of course exploded when they opened it.  Then the shrill wolf whistling started, right behind us, while two old guys sang songs familiar to everyone but me--no Danny Boy, no Whiskey in the Jar.  Just when I thought he'd whistled for the last time, he'd whistle again, sometimes in my ear, sometimes in Ruairi's ear, sometimes between the lady and gent sitting to my right.  I kept Ruairi in check (which entertained him) but I wasn't sure the lady to my right would be able to restrain her companion for very much longer.

The whistling won, in the end, in the sense that it drove us out before the fight was on.  As I got up, the lady smiled at me.  We never traded a single word, but our eyerolls were timed about the same (synchronized eye-rolling, anyone?) and we were friends in irritation.  I wished her luck and she laughed.

Fun town, exquisite castle, great food, incredible scenery, and a sense of ancient peace and yet liveliness that's hard to describe.  It's a place to go fishing, not to doze by the river but to actually catch stuff.  It's a place to practice falconry, and race on horses, not amble sedately on animals so jaded they're like zombies.  The ancient is alive and well at Ashford Castle.

Lists: Loves and Misses

I'm sleeping well (except one incident with sleep walking--haven't done that since I was a kid!) and I'm on local time, but I'm a bit draggy today.  Just a quick post before I start putting up more stuff 'bout Ireland.

Ten things I love about being home:

*Friends are a local phone call or a short drive away!

*Yay kitties!

*Yay dogs!

*The garden--she is blooming!  And I can weed!

*I'm totally motivated about cleaning house.  Weird, but I'll take it.

*Dinner and a movie every night (we often watch videos during dinner)

*My very own laundry room with my very own soaps!

*I can turn around without bumping an elbow in my shower and there's two shower heads.  Ahhhhh ...

*I can meet with  my writer's groups again.

*I can cook my own meals!

Ten things I miss:

*My DH

*Being with my whole family every day

*Stone circles and dolmens (and speculating about bored gaelics with too many rocks about)

*Having a pint with my DH and kids

*Listening to local wisdom, especially when it's unwise

*Good bacon (and black and white pudding, and irish sausage)

*Castles

*Lamb as a regular option on restaurant menus

*No dishes or dusting

*Chasing unfamiliar birds with my camera

Twelve Great Moments:

*Castle bedroom antics (and other antics but I won't use up the whole list for that)

*Seeing the Cliffs of Moher from the sea

*DH's expressions while having a pint at The Crow's Nest

*Running around Cahir Castle until after closing (oops)

*Roaming Ashford Castle grounds, especially the gardens

*Being terrified of the roads to Moll's Gap--and then not terrified after the sun came out

*Sunning (and getting sunburned) on the black rocks on Inisheer

*Rock shop shopping spree

*Distracting Irish wolfhounds from their mission

*Dunmore cave--the creepy learning where people met their fate at the hands of Vikings

*Watching falconry students walk their hawks

*Pony trek around Inisheer (I sure loved that island)

Five great meals:

*Dinner at Markree

*Dinner at Davenport Hotel in Dublin

*Lunch where I had that amazing thick slab of cod--hopefully I'll remember where soon

*Dessert/coffee at Moll's Gap

*Breakfast just about every south coast B&B

Honorable mention to the Rogue Brewery Pub at the Portland Airport -- you guys always rock and I couldn't resist giving a nod even though that wasn't in Ireland

Markree Castle

Our vacation is almost done.  I'm torn between feeling sad that Ruairi and I will be going different directions soon, and homesickness, especially for my friends, the animals and my garden.

We're in the castle sitting room right now.  The castle is beautiful and smoky and lush and drafty, as castles are wont to be.  We were very early, so our rooms weren't ready when we came in.  They gave us coffee and water on a tray and offered tea and scones.  Portraits with gilded frames hang on the wall.  One has a lady in a mink cape with a large ring on her right hand, which is held to her breast.  Green marble columns (from Connemara?) support a wedding cake ceiling.  The walkways near the main stairwell slant toward the rail side, bent from ages of supporting people moving about the castle.  The walkway closer to our rooms is level, but I can feel loose boards through the rugs.  Some rooms have famous names on the doors.  A French employee serves as a butler, though he handles much more than wine.  He also lights and maintains the many fireplaces, and brought us drinks in the late evening.

Wind gusts harass the trees.  We took a walk in the gardens, down to the chilly, clear river, through wooded areas on well-kept paths.  An archery target set up makes me want to set up my own archery range as soon as we get home.  Here, it's soggy and a walk in the woods in my last pair of shoes (the others are muddy--one got sucked off my foot in deep mud at one point) would be unwise.  I don't think they'll let me run around the airports in my stocking feet.  Otherwise I might have been more tempted to ask that they call the archery instructors to take me around on a shooting walk.  The receptionist said they have bear and deer shaped targets in the woods.

We had a fine dinner and I just finished a hot port (aka mulled wine.)  Feeling very relaxed and sleepy.  I got some writing done on a novel.  Not much else to say except that it's been a beautiful day, both the sunny part and the storm.  One more overnight to go after tonight, and then I'll be flying home.  

A Family History

We stayed an extra day at the Dan O'Hara Heritage Center to relax and enjoy the lovely town of Clifden.  We had some laundry to do too, and I wanted a night to soak in a tub with seaweed bath salts and enjoy some mead.  I'm glad we did, because the guided tractor tour of the grounds left a big impression on me.

It's very strange to be in someone's home knowing that they were forced out by the landlord and as a consequence half the family died on the way to America.  Dan O'Hara himself died soon after, and his four remaining children were fostered.  I don't think anyone knows what ultimately happened to them.  

Dan O'Hara had a very simple, and by our standards harsh life, but he loved his home and his family and enjoyed a good livelihood by his own measure.  He had all he needed--sheep, cows, chickens, peat, good water and potatoes--and was reduced to selling matches on the street.  It's not a distant abstract to me imagining the loss of home and family, never to be found again.  Despite this grim and sobering story, I can still enjoy the land and the welcome given by its owners and devoted caretakers.  If anyone reading this manages to make it to Connemara, I highly recommend visiting and if possible staying overnight.

Tomorrow we're heading in the vague direction of Sligo.  The weather was beautiful this morning and afternoon, but we've got rain and wind now so I'd better plan something that's indoors, just in case we don't get fair conditions back again.  

More Fun in Ireland

We've been to so many places since my last post, and there hasn't been time to write about them.  I don't have that much more time now, but I thought I'd post a couple of pics at least. 

Our family hired a pony cart on Inis Oirr (Inisheer,) one of the Aran Islands.  The driver took us on a nice tour of the east side, which included a shipwreck.  The three biggest of us walked part of one hill to save the pony, which acted up several times at the sight of having to drag around four big Americans.  There was seating for nine, by the way.  Not sure how the pony coped in the height of the season!  Probably with much grumpiness.  My DH used to be known as Aran Storm to some ... and we wanted to have a guinness at the local pub, Ruairi's ... but alas, they were closed.  At least we got to walk about, have a guinness at another place instead, and also got to sunbathe on a beautiful beach.  He and I basked on dark, smooth rocks.  We got sunburned.  Sunburned!!  Not bad, though.

Afterward, our ship, the Tranquility, took us to the base of the Cliffs of Moher.  On the way, Ruairi pointed and said, "You hear that sound, Highness?  Those are the shrieking eels ..."  The cliffs are amazing from up top, but even more spectacular viewed from the sea.  We got up close enough to see the thousands of birds nesting and swirling around the rocks.  We had perfect weather, and the sea was very kind, but still fun as we had a few rollers give us an fun and easy ride on the way over.

More later, possibly even tomorrow, as we're taking a vacation from packing/driving.  Our extremely entertaining host is going to take us on a tractor ride after breakfast up a big hill, and we're going to get a close look at some Connemara ponies.  There's also some nice pubs and the sea close by, here on the outskirts of Clifden.  I'm looking forward to putting my feet up in the afternoon and maybe reading a few chapters from one of the many books in the B&B's library, or challenging my DH to a game of chess.

Ireland the Beautiful

Rock of Cashel

We're taking our first down-time break of the trip.  Not exactly a pub crawl, though that may come later.  

Blarney is a lovely village beset by tourists.  This time of year is usually crowded, but the economic downturn has kept away all but the most determined tourists, and many of them are avoiding the rain at the moment.  So things seem pretty 'normal' for a place this size, at least to me.  It's quiet, peaceful, and people are just going about their business.  At about 2pm our local time, the buses will stop running quite so often and the owners of the White House, where we're staying, tell us that we'll have Blarney Castle pretty well to ourselves.

Still not sure about kissing the stone.

So far my favorite place has been Cahir Castle.  Dungeon cells, tower refuges, walkways with no safety rails (take that, poopyheaded overprotective gov'mints!) and plenty of nooks and crannies, plus a healthy dose of history, made the castle very special.  I could have spent twice as long there, but as it was they locked us in and we had to be let out with one other tardy group of German tourists that ran around one of the walls taking pictures of each other hanging precariously out of various crenellations.  We wouldn't do anything nearly that silly.  Much more sensible to tickle each other while going up steep staircases or climbing onto narrow ledges off of towers.

Ahem.

The Rock of Cashel was also fun, but more crowded, and we weren't able to get up into the kewl parts.  They're still restoring the poor thing, which has seen better days.  Despite this, some partial paintings (!!) survived and were restored in pieces.  Others were so fragile they were sealed behind an opaque covering for future generations more clever than us to restore.  The Rock has a beautiful view of a Cistercian Abbey that we didn't have time to see, and besides, it looked like a long, muddy trek to it and it had been sprinkling off and on.

So many places to visit, all old, all beautiful and mysterious and interesting.  I'm looking out at Blarney Castle from our window, hoping the rain will give up soon.  The weatherman (aka morale officer) has been telling the locals we'll have better weather any time now.

Any time.  Really.

But honestly, it hasn't rained as hard or steadily as it does at home.  If they think this is bad, boy, they're got another thing coming if they visit our neck of the woods.  And yet, I hear tell that we have sunshine.  My garden has probably exploded!  I'm looking forward to the rest of our vacation, but I have to admit that sometimes I close my eyes and remember how my roses and peonies looked last year, and imagine Wizard in my lap purring up a storm.

Ireland Interlude

I love Ireland.

Lots of castles, cathedrals, old towns, water stained by peat, hills, sheep, and one magnificent cave.  Weirdly, I love black pudding, and white pudding isn't bad either.  I feel like the only one who isn't local that likes it.  Staying at B&B establishments has been great.  Everyone has been kind and friendly.  

Driving on the left, not so much, but we're likely to survive the experience.

More later, when it's not, er, late.

Intermission

By the time you read this, I'll be in stranger climes, drinking wine and tasting the sea salt that's settled on my lips each time I sip.  I might even be relaxed.

Travels (by kzmiller)

The drift, the swift lift, the breathless drop away

The sea, the bright sky, the boisterous, idle play

To wander, to see

emerald, sapphire and gold

To listen, to be

more than can be told 

All in the moment, today

Tomorrow we'll go another way

The Joys of Flying Away

It's the final countdown for my incredible journey or amazing race or whatever it is I'm going on.  The last minute details  are popping up, but I'm knockin' 'em down, with massive help from my friends and family.  This is one of those times when the downside of having lots of animals becomes very readily apparent.  I'll miss them lots, probably about a week in.  I'm a little nervous about how they'll get by without mommy to love them, but that worry is starting to be overshadowed with push-pull.  The push is that they'll be in good hands.  The pull is that my focus is now on flying with everything we'll need.

Ah, travel.  This is one of those times when my nerves start to tingle and my palms start to sweat.  I'm not a regular flier, which my DH takes delight in by teasing me (to keep me laughing, I think.)  Every time I drive by the airport now, I get flutterbelly.  It's not just being up in the air.  It's knowing that if I've forgotten something, things can get really hellish really fast.  Passports.  Tickets.  Boarding passes.  Luggage.  Money.  Having to run in an unfamiliar airport if our flights don't match up just so due to weather conditions or problems on the runway or a flight check that doesn't clear.  I don't mind waiting, even for a very long time.  I mind missing a flight.

I will post pictures and stuff, maybe while I'm there, maybe not until I get back.  Which reminds me of another set of details that make my head hurt.  The amount of electronics I pack these days is weird.  Laptop.  Digital camera.  Cellphone.  Ipod shuffle.  And they all have different power requirements.  And converters, of course.  Remember back in the day when all you brought was a camera and some film?  I'd sigh wistfully, but you know, I remember that I could handle only so much reading while I flew, and that making phone calls home was a challenge to say the least.  Operator, can you get me someone who speaks English or who can understand my broken Czech?

No stress, deep breaths, this is fun, we want to do this, remember?

[palms still sweating]

Threes

My mom always says that things come in threes.  Gawd I hope so.  I don't want to take a fourth hit right now.  Three is more than enough.

I can't go into too many details, because they're not mine to give, but I will say that we lost one more goat (Skunk!) and now we know why.  So far the other goats are okay, but we may lose them all.  The really good news is that they're now eating well--extremely well, which tells me that the situation is probably through their systems and they're making up for lost ground.  I think we're out of the woods.  But I'm reeling.  Skunk put me through a virtual veterinary school.  Through her I learned how to deal with neck wounds from a cougar, how to give penicillin shots, how to deal with hypoproteination, worm overload, false pregnancy and hoof wall rot.  We made it through together, and she stuck by me through my ignorance and incompetence.  And now she's gone.  We've lost animals for all kinds of reasons around here.  Some of it was intentional (butchering,) some through accident, illness ... but it never gets any easier.  We'll lose more, because we'll always have animals.  But for the first time in a while, I want a vacation from the responsibility.  I look at Dakota and think man, she's old and having trouble getting around.  Will I lose her soon?  I look at Lucky and try not to think about the fact that his epilepsy seems to be getting worse--longer seizures, closer together.  We knew this would be the progression that might eventually lead to medication.  It just seems like a lot to bear.

Then there's the joy and stress of Ireland.  We've run across a major hitch.  We'll meet in Ireland for sure, and see all kinds of neat and fun places, and it'll be good, but we have to make a decision that's not mine, but the boy's to make.  I hurt every time I think about the situation.  I feel so helpless.  How do you compromise or make adjustments when it's all or nothing either way?

The DH and I argued.  We sorted that out, but believe it or not, this all came to a head on the same day.  Goats, Ireland, argument.  

When the DH and I argue, we either play argue (we did this for entertainment for a long time and used the excuse that it's probably not healthy to have no arguments in a relationship) or we argue about something that isn't easy to resolve.  If it was easy to resolve, there'd be no argument.  So although things are sorted out, the core of the argument remains, and it eats at me.  

I've been moving along, letting the fallout from Seattle's failed Worldcon bid distract me, pampering the kids with restaurant meals and trips to the bookstore, home cooked spaghetti and bakery desserts.  We bond over re-viewing Veronica Mars episodes and the little victories that come from seeing the goats sunning themselves, alive and well, near the barn when we wake up in the morning.  But The Three never went away the whole weekend, even for a second.  These things are haunting us, and bring strange, unsettling dreams and strain to our smiles.  

The boy and I are starting to get the sniffles.  Stress=reduced immune system.  Hopefully we'll sleep good tonight, eased by good conversations with my DH, goats who seem happy and healthy and recovering, and the luxury of time in which to deal with what we need to do.  We need to rest up.  It's going to be a long week.