The world is wide and lovely
Jul. 7th, 2018 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miladygreyOkay, so, after some rough days and some deliberate Internet detox and a lot of personal reminders that it is not my sole job to fix the world, also that I cannot do my bit to fix the world if I am anxious and terrified and suicidal from the constant deluge of news...we went to Ireland. And I am going to write about that, because it was awesome, and I will also put it under a cut because I am going to be happily giddy about it.
Day 1--Travel. Yeats and I got exit row seats, which was great for the extra legroom, but the row we were seated in was...right by the plane restrooms. Yeah. We got almost no sleep, but just exactly enough to convince our bodies/brains that yes, an entire night had definitely passed.
Day 2--Dublin. Due to a tail wind, we arrived in Dublin at 4am. Customs took five minutes, and even after collecting our luggage and a restorative cup of coffee at the airport cafe, we caught the bus into Dublin and found our hotel by 6am. They were happy to hold our bags, but our room would not be ready until the afternoon. So...we walked. And it was kind of amazing. First of all, it was a beautiful day, cloudless skies and sunshine and fresh breezes. Secondly, there is no one on the streets of Dublin at 6am. We walked through half of Temple Bar and saw maybe ten other people tops. We made note of some pubs that looked good, we found the hat shop Yeats desperately wanted to buy a hat from (the proprietor dresses as James Joyce every Bloomsday), we kind of got our bearings in the city before it got super-busy. We grabbed breakfast as soon as we found an open cafe, took some downtime reading on a bench in St. Stephens Park, and made it to the start point of our 1916 walking tour on time. By the end of that (two hours), I was almost dead on my feet, but thank God, our room was ready. We crashed for about an hour, then went to the Little Museum (which was great), and met our Dubliner for a pint of Guinness and tips on where to go and what to do. Joe was a dear, gave great advice and pointed us at a delightful pub for dinner. We ate, went back to the hotel and were asleep by 7pm. Not even the hotel's nightly Irish dance performance woke us up.
Day 2--More Dublin. Up bright and early to see Trinity College and the Book of Kells, which is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen and the highlight of my life. We were part of a little group that pre-booked in advance, so us 10-12 people got to see the Book first thing, and had a wonderful tour guide, Neal, who took us around Trinity and a few other stops, finishing up in Dublin Castle. Yeats won Neal's heart by A) not being an idiot American (seriously, a guy in our group motorboated the Molly Malone statue, so classy), and B) asking intelligent questions about Bram Stoker and Joyce. I won Neal's heart by wearing my "All books are girl books" T-shirt, and knowing exactly who Thomas Lefroy was and why his bust is in the Trinity Library. This led to Yeats and I, and two nice Canadians named Rob and Tom, having drinks with Neal after the tour was done, and talking about Neil Gaiman and Doctor Who and travel and true love and lots of other stuff over beer. After we bid our new friends goodbye, we went to the Guinness storehouse and did the big tour. Which was very nice, but also very slick and commercial...still, Guinness. Can't complain. Dinner at O'Neil's pub (recommended by Neal, who said they have the best lamb in Dublin, and he was right!), and to bed.
Day 3--The Dublining. We purchased a hop-on hop-off bus ticket and were ready to go when the buses were. We went to the Epic Immigration Museum, which is interactive and excellent. This meant a lot to Yeats; his family is very conscious of their heritage. I...am not entirely sure of mine. I'm pretty sure my dad's side of the family is Scots-Irish, I remember my grandmother talking about it, but no one else on either side has ever cared enough to dig deeper. Then we went to the National Archaeological Museum and saw ancient gold hoards and bog bodies (oh my poor lost cousins, I see you, your sacrifices are not forgotten) and reconstructions of the Battle of Clontarf, Yeats dragged me into a random World War I exhibit we walked past, we went to St. Patrick's Cathedral, grabbed lunch at some point. We were both so exhausted by dinner that we debated whether or not to attend our booked Dublin Literary Pub Crawl, but we did, and I'm very glad. Our guides were clever and informative, and did readings and scenes from various works. And we met the delightful Caroline, who talked books with me and whiskey with Yeats. Oh, and Yeats won the trivia contest, and since his T-shirt prize is too small, it is now mine.
Day 4--Travel to Kinsale. We rode a train to Cork, which was fun! Then we rode a bus to Kinsale, which was less fun. Travel tip, do not eat cheese-and-onion crisps before boarding a bus that careers along narrow roads. But Kinsale is beautiful, full of colored houses and blooming gardens (seriously, this was day 4 of perfect sunny summer weather). We arrived around 1pm, found our B&B, greeted our hostesses Orla and Eileen, and began to ramble. The best place we found was the Kinsale Mead Company, which is not even a year old, but makes delicious mead (and cocktails with it!). The whole town is fun to wander through, and we ended up with our arms full of mead, wool clothing (a hat for me and a waistcoat for Yeats), a beautiful handmade silver and moonstone necklace, books, and knickknacks both for us and for family. Delicious seafood dinner at a local pub, and so to bed. We highly recommend the Cloisters B&B, by the way. Its only flaw is the same flaw as every other lodging in Ireland--they have no air-conditioning. Which is not necessary 99% of the time, I am sure, but this particular week...
Day 5--Kinsale, We Love You. Took a morning walking tour around town with a local guide, Mr Ryan, who told us all about the Battle of Kinsale in the 1600s, the sinking of the Lusitania, and various other anecdotes. We visited St. Multose's Church, and met who I can only assume was the St. Multose's Church cat, who followed us around the sanctuary yowling politely until she got her due ear scritches. Then we followed some very bad directions and eventually found Blacks Brewing Company (never take directions from an Irish native, literally everything is "ten minutes' walk, you can't miss it") and had beers. By the time we got back to the B&B, it was almost dinner time, so we changed and went to Finn's Table for my 40th birthday dinner. Finn's Table was absolutely marvelous, and we recommend it wholeheartedly. Yeats had fresh local oysters as his starter, I had black pudding croquettes with braised apples. Then we both had steak (from the Finn family butcher) with tobacco onions, some kind of thin-sliced potato, luscious jus, and red wine. And Yeats finished with port and a small cheese board, while I had chocolate mousse cake with coffee cream and caramel gel.
Day 6--Cork, Kilkenny, and Hiccups. This was a Sunday, and we knew going in that due to this, our bus would be a bit later than usual, and we'd have a narrow window to get to Cork and catch our coach to Kilkenny. Our bus was rather late, made a couple of unplanned stops, and ended up dropping us off several blocks from where we were meant to catch the coach. We missed it by five minutes. After Yeats finished stomping, swearing, and vowing never to travel anywhere again, we established that the next coach to Kilkenny would be along in two hours, and that our ticket for the last coach would carry over to this one. So we hauled ourselves and our bags to a nearby shopping center. Not a lot was open due to it being Sunday, but we found a coffee shop that would let us loiter for the price of a scone and a mocha. The luggage store across from the coffee shop also opened while we were there, so I went ahead and purchased a second suitcase, since we were accumulating souvenirs rapidly. For his part, Yeats emailed our lodgings in Kilkenny to let them know we'd be late, and the Smithwick's Experience to ask if we could bump our scheduled tour up an hour. The Smithwick's folks were very understanding, and we arrived in Kilkenny a couple hours behind schedule, but with enough time to find our rooms (above a pub), drop our bags, devour some scones at a sandwich shop, and meander along the High Street to Smithwick's. We enjoyed their tour more than we did the Guinness; it was more intimate and less slick and commercial. Dinner at an Asian street food restaurant (there's only so many chip-based meals a girl can eat), and beers at the pub while watching World Cup matches.
Day 7--Kilkenny, We Love You Best. Did all things historical all day--Kilkenny Castle, the Medieval Mile Museum, the 16th-century Rothe House home and garden, and a couple hours spent shooting the breeze at the Hole in the Wall pub, which was built in the 15h century and serves great beer, lovely Irish coffee, and Alison and Shane the bartenders are awesome folks. They also directed us to a good place for dinner (Petronella's, down Buttery Slip), and a good pub to hear music (Cleere's). Loaded up on more souvenirs, and I somehow found another piece of jewelry, a handmade copper and silver torc, that I could not live without. How fortunate, as Yeats said while paying for it, that it was still in a sense my birthday.
Day 8--Back to Dublin. Due to mutual travel anxiety, we were two hours early for the train back to Dublin. Instead of being in the center of the city, Yeats had found a great Hotels.com deal and booked a hotel on the outskirts. Our cab driver found his way, turned down the drive...drove down a long, winding, scenic drive...and emerged in front of a beautiful, fancy place called the Finnstown Hotel. Seriously, this place was so nice that we fully expected, in our jeans and T-shirts, to get thrown out. The grounds were magnificent, there was an honest-to-God peacock walking around, and we got to do things like walk around the fountain and say "charge the pints to our room, thanks" in the bar.
Day 9--Tara and Newgrange. Yeats had booked a Rick Steves-recommended tour for this, so we cabbed back into Dublin city and met our group and the bus on O'Connell Street. It was (again) a cloudless and sunny day, which meant that the climb up to the Hill of Tara was kind of a sweaty slog, but good lord, you could see two-thirds of Ireland from the top. It was beautiful. And Newgrange was...there aren't words for it. It's old, and it's patient, and it is here. There is something so strangely comforting in knowing that humans built this thing to allow light to shine on the darkest day of the year--deliberately to ensure that light will come in. It has for five thousand years. Yeats managed not to kill any other members of our group--actual questions asked included "Were the builders Druids or Wiccans or what?" and "But they couldn't possibly have built this before the invention of the wheel, I'm going to Wikipedia the wheel and prove I'm ri...oh." We discussed hitting up Temple Bar one last time, but were so tired and sweaty by the time we got back to Dublin that we cabbed back to the hotel and spent the evening lounging at the bar and packing.
Day 10--Travel Home. After nine days of perfect weather, the morning was grey and cool and drizzly, and I put on my jacket for the first time on the trip. I hate US Customs, but all our souvenirs and booze and chocolate got home safely. I hate 7-hour flights, but I got two books read and two movies watched.
We are home. Laundry is done, the cats are retrieved from my mother-in-law and are devoted snugglemonsters, and we are never leaving our blessed air conditioner again. Oh, and until I can upload some of his pictures, please go to Yeats' Facebook page to see a metric ton of photos, including even some of me.
Reading Log (because I never stop): The Furthest Station by Ben Aaronovitch; Otherworld Secrets by Kelley Armstrong; Stone Mad by Elizabeth Bear; Foundryside (ARC) by Robert Jackson Bennett; Who Killed Sherlock Holmes by Paul Cornell; Jaran by Kate Elliott; River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey; Defy the Worlds by Claudia Gray; The Spanish Bride by Georgette Heyer; The Foretelling of Georgie Spider by Ambelin Kwaymullina; The Alchemist of Souls by Anne Lyle; Last Watch of the Night by Paul Monette; Michael's Wings by Tiffany Reisz; No Life But This by Anna Sheehan; Ice Land by Betsy Tobin; The Guns of Empire by Django Wexler
Day 1--Travel. Yeats and I got exit row seats, which was great for the extra legroom, but the row we were seated in was...right by the plane restrooms. Yeah. We got almost no sleep, but just exactly enough to convince our bodies/brains that yes, an entire night had definitely passed.
Day 2--Dublin. Due to a tail wind, we arrived in Dublin at 4am. Customs took five minutes, and even after collecting our luggage and a restorative cup of coffee at the airport cafe, we caught the bus into Dublin and found our hotel by 6am. They were happy to hold our bags, but our room would not be ready until the afternoon. So...we walked. And it was kind of amazing. First of all, it was a beautiful day, cloudless skies and sunshine and fresh breezes. Secondly, there is no one on the streets of Dublin at 6am. We walked through half of Temple Bar and saw maybe ten other people tops. We made note of some pubs that looked good, we found the hat shop Yeats desperately wanted to buy a hat from (the proprietor dresses as James Joyce every Bloomsday), we kind of got our bearings in the city before it got super-busy. We grabbed breakfast as soon as we found an open cafe, took some downtime reading on a bench in St. Stephens Park, and made it to the start point of our 1916 walking tour on time. By the end of that (two hours), I was almost dead on my feet, but thank God, our room was ready. We crashed for about an hour, then went to the Little Museum (which was great), and met our Dubliner for a pint of Guinness and tips on where to go and what to do. Joe was a dear, gave great advice and pointed us at a delightful pub for dinner. We ate, went back to the hotel and were asleep by 7pm. Not even the hotel's nightly Irish dance performance woke us up.
Day 2--More Dublin. Up bright and early to see Trinity College and the Book of Kells, which is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen and the highlight of my life. We were part of a little group that pre-booked in advance, so us 10-12 people got to see the Book first thing, and had a wonderful tour guide, Neal, who took us around Trinity and a few other stops, finishing up in Dublin Castle. Yeats won Neal's heart by A) not being an idiot American (seriously, a guy in our group motorboated the Molly Malone statue, so classy), and B) asking intelligent questions about Bram Stoker and Joyce. I won Neal's heart by wearing my "All books are girl books" T-shirt, and knowing exactly who Thomas Lefroy was and why his bust is in the Trinity Library. This led to Yeats and I, and two nice Canadians named Rob and Tom, having drinks with Neal after the tour was done, and talking about Neil Gaiman and Doctor Who and travel and true love and lots of other stuff over beer. After we bid our new friends goodbye, we went to the Guinness storehouse and did the big tour. Which was very nice, but also very slick and commercial...still, Guinness. Can't complain. Dinner at O'Neil's pub (recommended by Neal, who said they have the best lamb in Dublin, and he was right!), and to bed.
Day 3--The Dublining. We purchased a hop-on hop-off bus ticket and were ready to go when the buses were. We went to the Epic Immigration Museum, which is interactive and excellent. This meant a lot to Yeats; his family is very conscious of their heritage. I...am not entirely sure of mine. I'm pretty sure my dad's side of the family is Scots-Irish, I remember my grandmother talking about it, but no one else on either side has ever cared enough to dig deeper. Then we went to the National Archaeological Museum and saw ancient gold hoards and bog bodies (oh my poor lost cousins, I see you, your sacrifices are not forgotten) and reconstructions of the Battle of Clontarf, Yeats dragged me into a random World War I exhibit we walked past, we went to St. Patrick's Cathedral, grabbed lunch at some point. We were both so exhausted by dinner that we debated whether or not to attend our booked Dublin Literary Pub Crawl, but we did, and I'm very glad. Our guides were clever and informative, and did readings and scenes from various works. And we met the delightful Caroline, who talked books with me and whiskey with Yeats. Oh, and Yeats won the trivia contest, and since his T-shirt prize is too small, it is now mine.
Day 4--Travel to Kinsale. We rode a train to Cork, which was fun! Then we rode a bus to Kinsale, which was less fun. Travel tip, do not eat cheese-and-onion crisps before boarding a bus that careers along narrow roads. But Kinsale is beautiful, full of colored houses and blooming gardens (seriously, this was day 4 of perfect sunny summer weather). We arrived around 1pm, found our B&B, greeted our hostesses Orla and Eileen, and began to ramble. The best place we found was the Kinsale Mead Company, which is not even a year old, but makes delicious mead (and cocktails with it!). The whole town is fun to wander through, and we ended up with our arms full of mead, wool clothing (a hat for me and a waistcoat for Yeats), a beautiful handmade silver and moonstone necklace, books, and knickknacks both for us and for family. Delicious seafood dinner at a local pub, and so to bed. We highly recommend the Cloisters B&B, by the way. Its only flaw is the same flaw as every other lodging in Ireland--they have no air-conditioning. Which is not necessary 99% of the time, I am sure, but this particular week...
Day 5--Kinsale, We Love You. Took a morning walking tour around town with a local guide, Mr Ryan, who told us all about the Battle of Kinsale in the 1600s, the sinking of the Lusitania, and various other anecdotes. We visited St. Multose's Church, and met who I can only assume was the St. Multose's Church cat, who followed us around the sanctuary yowling politely until she got her due ear scritches. Then we followed some very bad directions and eventually found Blacks Brewing Company (never take directions from an Irish native, literally everything is "ten minutes' walk, you can't miss it") and had beers. By the time we got back to the B&B, it was almost dinner time, so we changed and went to Finn's Table for my 40th birthday dinner. Finn's Table was absolutely marvelous, and we recommend it wholeheartedly. Yeats had fresh local oysters as his starter, I had black pudding croquettes with braised apples. Then we both had steak (from the Finn family butcher) with tobacco onions, some kind of thin-sliced potato, luscious jus, and red wine. And Yeats finished with port and a small cheese board, while I had chocolate mousse cake with coffee cream and caramel gel.
Day 6--Cork, Kilkenny, and Hiccups. This was a Sunday, and we knew going in that due to this, our bus would be a bit later than usual, and we'd have a narrow window to get to Cork and catch our coach to Kilkenny. Our bus was rather late, made a couple of unplanned stops, and ended up dropping us off several blocks from where we were meant to catch the coach. We missed it by five minutes. After Yeats finished stomping, swearing, and vowing never to travel anywhere again, we established that the next coach to Kilkenny would be along in two hours, and that our ticket for the last coach would carry over to this one. So we hauled ourselves and our bags to a nearby shopping center. Not a lot was open due to it being Sunday, but we found a coffee shop that would let us loiter for the price of a scone and a mocha. The luggage store across from the coffee shop also opened while we were there, so I went ahead and purchased a second suitcase, since we were accumulating souvenirs rapidly. For his part, Yeats emailed our lodgings in Kilkenny to let them know we'd be late, and the Smithwick's Experience to ask if we could bump our scheduled tour up an hour. The Smithwick's folks were very understanding, and we arrived in Kilkenny a couple hours behind schedule, but with enough time to find our rooms (above a pub), drop our bags, devour some scones at a sandwich shop, and meander along the High Street to Smithwick's. We enjoyed their tour more than we did the Guinness; it was more intimate and less slick and commercial. Dinner at an Asian street food restaurant (there's only so many chip-based meals a girl can eat), and beers at the pub while watching World Cup matches.
Day 7--Kilkenny, We Love You Best. Did all things historical all day--Kilkenny Castle, the Medieval Mile Museum, the 16th-century Rothe House home and garden, and a couple hours spent shooting the breeze at the Hole in the Wall pub, which was built in the 15h century and serves great beer, lovely Irish coffee, and Alison and Shane the bartenders are awesome folks. They also directed us to a good place for dinner (Petronella's, down Buttery Slip), and a good pub to hear music (Cleere's). Loaded up on more souvenirs, and I somehow found another piece of jewelry, a handmade copper and silver torc, that I could not live without. How fortunate, as Yeats said while paying for it, that it was still in a sense my birthday.
Day 8--Back to Dublin. Due to mutual travel anxiety, we were two hours early for the train back to Dublin. Instead of being in the center of the city, Yeats had found a great Hotels.com deal and booked a hotel on the outskirts. Our cab driver found his way, turned down the drive...drove down a long, winding, scenic drive...and emerged in front of a beautiful, fancy place called the Finnstown Hotel. Seriously, this place was so nice that we fully expected, in our jeans and T-shirts, to get thrown out. The grounds were magnificent, there was an honest-to-God peacock walking around, and we got to do things like walk around the fountain and say "charge the pints to our room, thanks" in the bar.
Day 9--Tara and Newgrange. Yeats had booked a Rick Steves-recommended tour for this, so we cabbed back into Dublin city and met our group and the bus on O'Connell Street. It was (again) a cloudless and sunny day, which meant that the climb up to the Hill of Tara was kind of a sweaty slog, but good lord, you could see two-thirds of Ireland from the top. It was beautiful. And Newgrange was...there aren't words for it. It's old, and it's patient, and it is here. There is something so strangely comforting in knowing that humans built this thing to allow light to shine on the darkest day of the year--deliberately to ensure that light will come in. It has for five thousand years. Yeats managed not to kill any other members of our group--actual questions asked included "Were the builders Druids or Wiccans or what?" and "But they couldn't possibly have built this before the invention of the wheel, I'm going to Wikipedia the wheel and prove I'm ri...oh." We discussed hitting up Temple Bar one last time, but were so tired and sweaty by the time we got back to Dublin that we cabbed back to the hotel and spent the evening lounging at the bar and packing.
Day 10--Travel Home. After nine days of perfect weather, the morning was grey and cool and drizzly, and I put on my jacket for the first time on the trip. I hate US Customs, but all our souvenirs and booze and chocolate got home safely. I hate 7-hour flights, but I got two books read and two movies watched.
We are home. Laundry is done, the cats are retrieved from my mother-in-law and are devoted snugglemonsters, and we are never leaving our blessed air conditioner again. Oh, and until I can upload some of his pictures, please go to Yeats' Facebook page to see a metric ton of photos, including even some of me.
Reading Log (because I never stop): The Furthest Station by Ben Aaronovitch; Otherworld Secrets by Kelley Armstrong; Stone Mad by Elizabeth Bear; Foundryside (ARC) by Robert Jackson Bennett; Who Killed Sherlock Holmes by Paul Cornell; Jaran by Kate Elliott; River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey; Defy the Worlds by Claudia Gray; The Spanish Bride by Georgette Heyer; The Foretelling of Georgie Spider by Ambelin Kwaymullina; The Alchemist of Souls by Anne Lyle; Last Watch of the Night by Paul Monette; Michael's Wings by Tiffany Reisz; No Life But This by Anna Sheehan; Ice Land by Betsy Tobin; The Guns of Empire by Django Wexler
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Date: 2018-07-08 01:49 pm (UTC)<333