I landed in Dublin early in the morning two weeks ago Monday; I'd slept like a donkey on narcotics on the flight over so I was ready for my drive to Limerick. Hertz, who has proved to be ever so helpful in the past, thought it a good idea to give the dumb yank with little sleep and minor dyslexia a manual car. I only smashed the stick into first gear on accident three or four times, and only almost killed two joggers. I was on a roll...
Jackie was already in Limerick having arrived two days prior to myself. Her original plan to extort money out of her ex-boyfriend who promised to pay for her flight over but never did then became a right jackarse! She said she had a great time though, little did we know just how much we were about to laugh our faces off for the entire week.
We headed to Cashel to see the 'Rock' which I had seen last year and wanted to show Jackie, amazing views yet again but not as nice weather this time.
We contemplated Dingle then got a text from Johnnie saying he had tea on for us so we drove straight to Ennis. What a beautiful B&B his parents have. Druimn, the Finn family estate, is storybook. What was even more quaint was the budding romance between Jackie and Johnnie's father whom we deemed 'The Captain' since we didn’t feel comfortable calling him John and he didn’t feel comfortable being called Mr. Finn. 'The Captain' came from a picture in their kitchen where Mr. Finn is looking rather dapper in a very authoritative uniform. When he said it was his captain picture and we asked of what, he told us the golf course we all laughed, hence his new name. Jackie definitely has good taste though; The Captain could very well be the cutest man alive.
After some drinks in town on the walk back to Druimn, while having an intense discussion on the proclivity of serial killers, Jackie snapped a picture with an alarmingly bright flash. Johnnie peed a little and I jumped into the hedge.
After a few ciders and a few hundred laughs we snuggled into our beds awaiting the week’s adventures.
Tuesday Johnnie took us in our rented car which we called 'Siobhan' - pronounced phonetically as a dumb American friend of mine once did. The GPS became known as Fergal which is Jackie's ex-boyfriends name because both of them seem to have no fucking idea what they are talking about. We headed to the Cliffs of Moher which Jackie and I had both been to but never on such a beautiful day. (Side note- the entire time we were there it was sunny and 75 degrees, unreal.)
Please don't fall, tanks.
That castle is actually HUGE!
It's electric, boogey woogey...ahhh, lame...
On the way home Johnnie drove us through The Burren then Ballyvaughn where we saw the birthplace of Jackie’s beloved.
Throughout the trip, Johnnie being a Chef and obviously from the area, often would see someone and say things like, oh that guy is my fish supplier which of course led to many jokes involving who my meat distributer is and who handles Jackie’s ice cream maintenance.
Birthplace of El Capitan!
Ballyvaughn boats.
Wednesday we met up with Sinead, Johnnie's sister, for an amazing meal at the Moy House, incredible views. Then we went down to the water to watch the surfers and crazy Eddie (mentioned previously and often in this blog!) teach a group of school kids surf lessons. That night we headed to Limerick to see Johnnie's friend Cahal play in a traditional Irish band at a huge pub called Nancy Blake’s. It was amazing; I loved every minute of it!
Thursday we awoke bleary eyed, hung over and starving. But due to my awesome planning skills we had no time to eat before our Angela’s Ashes walking tour. My friends at home know that I am obsessed with Frank McCourt; I even tried stalking him at NYU where he taught. The tour was very interesting, I freaked out every 5 minutes especially when the tour guide said he was friends with Frank and last year before he died he had accompanied that very tour. The hangovers we were experiencing in addition to the rumblings in our bellies and the seemingly never ending walk we were on enabled us to really experience what little Frank must have gone through as a starving semi-homeless child in Limerick.
We headed back to Ennis to relax and get ready for the Aran Islands the next day. We awoke fresh and bright Friday and drove to Doolin to catch a ferry to the smallest of the islands, Inis Oirr- pronounced Inis Sheer. It was another lovely day and we were no longer hung over so the boat ride was not catastrophic, it was however on the way back the next day!
We played tennis on the beach, I made a sand castle that would rival a Frank Lloyd Wright creation, took artistic pictures, went on a horse drawn tour around the island, had lunch and then proceeded to drink and laugh for the next 12 hours straight. That night, after I had a terrible run in with the shower and having to take a bath after completely soaking the entire bathroom, we had a lovely meal and hit the town. The town on Inis Oirr is two pubs. It was a great night the highlight being when Jackie fell in love with the bartender, Nessan who apparently also catches all the lobster for the island, and runs the bike shop, oh and runs the ferry. Days later while reading the Ireland Lonely Planet Jackie and I noticed Nessan’s family highlighted in the book as owning the largest of the few hotels on the island. This of course led to discussions on how Jackie would someday return, marry Nessan and become Queen of Inis Oirr, after having added ten ATM machines, an internet cafe and a McDonalds. Americans rule!
Jackie only had cell reception on the ground. Class!
Mussel Beach
Miniature Grand Canyon!
Johnnie never stops working!
Inis Oirr Lake
before
after
On the way back, stopping to take pictures I forced Johnnie and Jackie into a prom pose. Jackie tried to resist but Johnnie is too cute.
gayest. picture. ever.
The next day we headed back to Ennis then straight to Dublin so Jackie could get her flight at 6am Sunday, ow?...why..? Johnnie collapsed in the hotel claiming liver disease, whatever! Jackie and I already know from our previous trips to Ireland that we can out drink Irish men...wait... should we still be proud of things like this? Oh well, the two of us went for a few pints and Jackie had a few hours of sleep then cabbed it to the airport. It was like our child leaving the nest, so sad, she was missed dearly. But not for very long cause Johnnie got us tickets to my first ever hurling match Sunday night!
What can I say....I am used to Yankee games where everyone drinks obsessively and talks about life over a leisurely 3 hour game, then everyone pays attention in the last inning and lazily cheers or boos accordingly. Hurling is another thing all together. Everyone and I mean everyone was on the edge of their seats during the one hour match. No pads, no rules, no penalties. It was awesome! Johnnie's county in which he lives, Clare, was the underdog and expected to come nowhere near winning. Guess what? Someone got my memo to make this the best trip ever cause they won! Only a few people went on the field to congratulate the team...
Johnnie and I had a quiet night after that, my liver was telling me night mares as well so I decided to be nice to it for once.
Thanks to Brian, the ever so helpful bartender at the Gingerman pub across from the hotel, we had plenty of amazing advice to carry out our Dublin plans. My last day in Ireland was visiting Kilmainham Gaol, which if it sounds scary it should being that it is a former prison where many famous leaders in the campaign for Irish independence were imprisoned and violently executed. Kilmainham was built in 1796 and is now a museum with an incredible amount of history. Our tour could have been a week long and we wouldn’t have scraped the surface of all the events that took place there. You may recognize it from movies like The Italian Job, Michael Collins and In the Name of the Father.
On the way back to the hotel to have a proper meal and say our good byes before my flight Johnnie and I took a cab with a lovely driver named Antony. You know how they say everything happens for a reason? Well I am fighting for this story to appear next time anyone Wikipedia’s that statement....
Johnnie decided randomly that we should get Antony's phone number as I needed a ride to the airport that evening. Fast forward ½ hour later, walking while looking for a nice restaurant Johnnie realized he had no wallet. Breathe, think, breathe, gasp, profanities, breathe again. SHIT. We called Antony who looked in his cab and saw no wallet but ominously told Johnnie that he would be calling him back in twenty minutes. Apparently Antony picked up two guys right after us, one sat in the front and one in the back. Antony knew the guy in the front fairly well. The guy in the back, he did not. He dropped them at a bar in a dodgy part of town. So after our call he returned to the bar, walked up to the guy (from the back seat), put his hand on his shoulder and asked to speak to him outside. Once outside and without saying a word the guy squirmed and put Johnnie's wallet in Antony's hand.
Yeahhhh......
So our super hero cab driver said he would just bring it back to us when he picked me up for the airport in a few hours and we all cheered. I told Johnnie that this was either the coolest story ever or a very elaborate and painful way to go about me paying for dinner.
You go Ireland! You’re awesome!
