Welcome.

Up for some craic (pronounced CRACK) reading? Depending on my presentation and your perspective, what follows may offer that.

If you have a bit more than a sliver of time and wouldn’t mind reading about and/or seeing pictures of endless roundabouts, sheetless beds, small squares for toilet paper, fake plants adoring restaurant ceilings and business fronts, rock walls with spilling green foliage, chips and fish, small cars – too narrow for two roadways, the funniest of signage that makes this American giggle down to her toes, lazily grazing sheep and down for a nap cows, white homes dotting grasslands, castles with cool histories, pubs galore, street musicians, the stirring sound of bagpipes, and forty shades of the lovely color green…

or in other words,

Ireland,

then go on, have a read.

Fair warning: it’s a bit lengthy.

This American girl and her good man vacationed to Ireland. It was a week of craic, or in Irish terminology, fun.

It was a blast. Jas and I had a lovely little time.

Some few highlights (too much to cover deeply) if you care to have a read.

First the funnies out of the way.

THE SIGNS!

Some of Ireland’s signs are so hilariously funny. These were among our favorites (especially “No dog fouling”). Lily is a fouler in the worst of places (inside Lowe’s yesterday ☹), so she would have gotten us into some trouble in Ireland.

But no worries, we left her at home.

Secondly, some Irish lingo. So cute. It took me the better part of the week to understand most of the natives, especially those whose accents were thickest. After an Irish-English exchange, I was forever looking at Jason: “What did he/she say?” Jas was much better at comprehending Irish than I was.

Their vowels are all jacked up! In the explanatory words of an Irishman himself, “The A’s become O’s and O’s become E’s.” This American whole heartedly agrees with that clarification.

Can = pop

Chips = fries

Meal ticket = bill

Sit in = stay and eat

Take away = take out

Weans = a small child

Mammy = mommy

Notes = monetary bill

This candy bar was adorably helpful:

For me, the weather was consistently cold, and I pretty much lived in my coat nearly 24:7 during the days. Lots of wind. Lovely views if you could stand the wind and chill to see them – especially in Northern Ireland. We were blessed, though, and only had a day-ish of rain, but on the positive side, it wasn’t “bucketing down.”

Down near Dublin, one Irish woman told us this was unusual for June. Glad to hear it was an exception. To be fair and honest, we did get some sun near the end of our trip, and it was welcomed.

Ireland is for sure a touristy destination. Lots of folks from lots of countries.

Jas sat on the wrong side of this trusty little white car and drove the island of Ireland on the wrong side of the road by American standards but not by Irish ones (and that mattered most over here!). I panicked too often, thinking he was turning into oncoming traffic. Thankfully, he was much more level headed than I was and adapted pretty flawlessly. One time he was in a bus lane and got a bit bawled out by a “garda” but otherwise, he did stellar. We should have been more “cop on.”

Look at this girl speak Irish!

When we turned in the rental, we got charged extra euros because we put too many miles on it! Ooops! We sure had fun driving the island. There must have been half a million roundabouts. I am convinced Ireland invented those things. Wow. They are EVERYWHERE in Ireland.

Here’s a brief write up and a few pictures detailing some of what we saw and experienced.

Dublin:

We started and ended our trip here.

Here was a city with busy streets – especially on a weekend day! Walking bodies everywhere. Street musicians flashing talent with tunes! Ate at a yummy 10/10 restaurant called Bewelys. Note to self to visit should you ever set foot on Irish soil. Yummy food. Fun atmosphere. Pretty stained glass.

The hop on/off bus proved to be a really great way to see the city and learn its history. I slept through the first drive around (I was so tired!), but we did it again and got a different tour guide whom I could understand slightly better, so I did learn a few things the second time. View was best up top.

#learninghappensbestawake

The bus tour guide told us a funny story as we passed a row of colorfully painted house doors. Aside from front doors, the side-by-side dwellings looked identical. The guide said the doors all used to be painted the same color of black, but the Irish men, after enjoying drinks at the pubs, would come home late at night and in their drunken stupor, they would struggle to find the right home entry, so the wives went and painted all the doors different colors.

Brillant women – those Irish gals.

Belfast:

Dublin aside, this was our first stop on our drive around Ireland.

It was here that Jas and I had our very first ever pub experience. We had a yummy lunch – each served on a wooden cutting board. Here I learned that French fries are chips. Call them whatever you want, they are something yummy and fat in Ireland. And yes, fried. Side note: we ordered mushrooms once, and they turned out to be fried, too. Not that I’m complaining. Well, perhaps my heart is, but what’s done is done.

I loved how the restaurants and pubs did water! Rather than run themselves ragged monitoring and refilling your water cups, the waitresses/waiters leave a picture (the likes of this) on your table full of water. Help yourself as needed. Love it.

Gonna do kitchen-ing like that. I think water is pretty cute served up like that.

We took a fantastic foot tour around Belfast given by Brian English (he did, in fact, comment on his last name, saying it was the worst name an Irish man could have. Given the British-Irish tensions of the past, he most certainly had a very good point).

He told us of former Belfast days and expressed appreciation for the changes that have come, the peace that prevails now in place of the revolutions and uprisings he lived through in the 60’s and 70’s. Back then, he had a boss that was killed in a bombing, and one of the pubs we meandered around was bombed some 40 times.

Imagine!

He told us of the Unionists and Nationalist and explained the reason for Britian’s heavy thumbprint in Northern Ireland and admitted that without the Brits, Belfast couldn’t stay afloat; Irish residents couldn’t afford the taxes. Brian expressed hope in the young adults saying it was their turn to lead Northern Ireland forward in a more unified way.

Jas and I felt completely safe in Belfast and enjoyed our time there, but there was so much evidence of war, heartache, sorrow, and suffering.

One Catholic lady taking admission for a protestant church viewing told me, “It was about politics, not religion,” but I’m not so sure. The two seemed to be incredibly intertwined. The former Catholic-Protestant divide and hostility, well documented and showcased, seemed to run deep, but kudos to much improved conditions in brotherhood.

Beautiful cathedrals (Protestant and Catholic) throughout Ireland.

Absolutely stunning stained glass – seen most in Belfast. This one was especially touching to us. It portrayed the parable of The Good Samaritan.

Moving.

The Titanic was built in Belfast, Ireland. One T-shirt I saw in a local shop read: Titanic: built by the Irish, sunk by the British. Giggle. Quite proud of their shipyards, the Irish were major shipbuilders for many years.

Here’s an interesting Titanic fact that neither Jas nor I knew. These two names with the asterisk by them in the picture below are two men who were not on the Titanic in actuality but whose names were recorded as having drowned. The truth: they went to work that morning. Their wives sent them off only to be told later that they had drowned at sea, but it was identity theft. How about that?

Botanic Gardens in Belfast were peaceful, serene. So many ideas for home yard improvement. The transformed with foliage archways were a “K” favorite.

Derry:

This is a town in Northern Ireland that has been beset with bloodshed, fighting, insurrections, uprisings, hostility, and hatred. It was obvious that people yearn for better days and have worked hard to live more peacefully together, be they of whatever religion or be they of British or Irish decent. It was a pleasant place full of kind Irish and other visiting foreigners such as ourselves. There is hope here born of steady progress and mindful peacekeeping measures. There have been considerable improvements even in twenty years. No longer are guard stations up and all seem to roam freely and safely. We enjoyed our time here.

Pounds instead of euros up here as well as British flags – a reminder that Britian is in charge around those parts.

In Derry, we viewed the Peace Wall Museum. “The spoken words scattered across this peace wall are those of local women who endured the [time known as] ‘The Troubles’ ” in the city and continue to live in the shadow of its legacy…” (words on the Peace Wall)

Small horizontal wooden signs relayed truths such as these:

“Anger builds strong barricades. Connection tears them down.”

“Barriers can be real or within our minds. Both hem us in.”

“Where you’re born is not a choice. Who you hate is a choice.”

I hope Derry/Northern Ireland will not forget how ugly war is.

This is a tender little statue in Derry. It was “designed by a local teacher…[and is a] powerful metal sculpture of two figures extending their hands to each other…[in a] growing hope for peace and reconciliation in Northern Ireland.” (Stevens, R., O’Connor, P., Ireland, pg 444)

Quite the story with the historic Dunluce Castle. “The earliest standing remains of Dunluce Castle date to around 1500…” (pamphlet at castle) Overturning hands several times and even involving the English Crown, the castle was finally “left to go to ruin and stonework removed for use in building elsewhere…” (pamphlet at castle) Finally in 1928, it came into state guardianship.

The castle was erected on land jutting precariously close to and above the water. The view is simply stunning, but the castle’s kitchen story is simply sad. One day as the family was dining for dinner, the kitchen fell off into the ocean! The servants went with it. Oh my! That’s truly a dinner time gone bad. What an abysmal misfortune!

One Englishman took a picture of Jas and me inside Dunluce castle ruins (he kindly volunteered). As he was preparing to snap the picture, he said, “Lift your chin up…now your other one.” We had a good laugh together.

Also on the way to Derry was this fun stop: Giant’s Causeway. “The Giant’s Causeway is steeped in myth and legend. Carved from the coast by the mighty giant, Finn McCool, Giant’s Causeway is an ancient home full of folklore. Local people…believe between the hexagons, the mythical features carved out in the rocks and the tumbling sea, there’s real magic. You may not always see it straightaway, but come to this place, stand on the sones, uncover the legends, use your imagination and just wait. It won’t be long until you feel it.” (pamphlet, Giant’s Causeway)

Super windy place. The windiest in all of Ireland we were told.

That felt true.

Jas and I had a delightful time listening to the giant mythology. Finn was Ireland’s giant, but neighboring Scotland had one, too. The Scottish giant came to Ireland to measure his size against Finn. Finn, afraid he would measure smaller, dressed up as a baby and feigned to be one. When the Scottish giant laid his eyes on Finn, he said, “If the baby is this big, what of his father?’ He dashed back to Scotland.

Win for Finn.

This is Finn’s pipe organ. If you show up on Christmas Day at 6 am in the morning, you can apparently hear him playing it.

Definitely have a profound soft spot in my heart for the roads leading to Derry and deep appreciation for the goodness of God to me while in Ireland. When I was loading my luggage into the car after a peaceful night’s stay at an Airbnb, I space headedly left my backpack (with my purse in it!) on the wall ledge of a very well-traveled road, and when we went back to get it over an hour later, it was still there, and our Airbnb host had emailed Jas saying he noticed a backpack and wondered if we had left it. Wow. So beautiful a thing to see such honesty! Warmed me to my toes.

Sligo:

This was a cute little town. In the days of its founding, “Sligo people were leading entrepreneurs in shipping, and the town was renowned in the 18^th century for the manufacture of linen.” (pamphlet, city of Sligo)

This was a personal favorite. This Irish household has it about right:

Street signs? Forget it. Maybe they were somewhere to be seen, but if so, you had to know where to look except in the obvious, to be expected places one would think they might be.

On the note of street signs, there is a James Street in Sligo which is known for a couple of things: (1) The city council hasn’t allowed any major big name companies/brands to be set up, so everything on that street is local and small business. So cool. (2) It’s a street without stop signs. The idea is that people are known to be kind enough to conscientiously and kindly allow pedestrian and car traffic to travel easily and safely without traffic signs or lights. Wow! What a cool thing!

I loved all the goodlooking rock walls with obstinately beautiful vegetation creeping through the stone:

Hyde Bridge – a fun name (my mom’s maiden):

The Bridge was renamed Hyde Bridge in 1947 “honoring the first president of Ireland: Dubhglas De Hide.” (placard by bridge)

If you are fond of fairies, Sligo had this fairy message for you:

This statue entitled “The Famine Family” in Sligo touched our souls. It depicts a desperate family during a difficult time for Ireland. “Between 1847 and 1851, over 30K people emigrated…This sculpture is one…of three…to honor the victims of the Great Hunger…” (signage near statue) According to Brian, our Belfast guide, there was sufficient food but because of the expense, people could not afford to buy it. Other sources consulted seemed to suggest a true famine, sponsored, in large part, by potato crop failure. Whatever the whole story, many Irish folks emigrated, and America welcomed thousands of Irish to a new homeland during this time.

On the note of immigration, I was a bit disappointed to learn that it is extremely difficult to move to and take up residency in Ireland (#suredidcrossourminds) if you are not native born. If you are not extremely wealthy or do not have immediate Irish decent (parents or spouse), it’s a stone’s throw from impossible. I saw several campaigning signs in favor of closed Irish borders, down with immigration. Such an interesting stance – especially given the kind arms of a very welcoming America when so many Irish would have otherwise died.

Jas and I both loved Sligo because of this:

Sort of our last name! An added “G” and deleted “E.” So fun! Maybe we have some relatives here in Sligo somewhere.

Calling all Donaghys or Donaheys!

If there was one place that was uniquely interesting, it was Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery. “Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery is the oldest and the densest concentration of Neolithic tombs in Ireland…Remains of over 35 passage tombs are found here, constructed almost 6,000 years ago.” (Internet, Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery, Ireland) Some of the remains were stone johnnies or in other words, cairns. Really cool!

What was less cool was the new word Jas and I learned here: de-fleshing (also called excarnation). As I understand it, it is the removal of the deceased organs and flesh prior to burial. This was not to be, we were told, confused with cannibalism, which was not practiced here according to local source guides.

The anciency of the excavated ruins was fascinating!

Westport:

Ashley was a delightful Irish find in Westport. She kindly chatted with us and told us of her trip to America – Washington, DC to be exact. “Lovely, it was so lovely,” she said of it. Jason kindly tipped her handsomely for providing us with several minutes of soul stirring tunes. She was a generous receiver and so obviously valued and practiced gratitude. So good to see in a younger soul. She sang one of our favorite Scottish songs.

Jas introduced me to this song soon after we were married, and I’ve loved it tenderly ever since.

Take a listen should you like:

Croagh Patrick:

Ireland’s holy mountain. As I understand it, St. Patrick fasted for 40 days atop this mountain, cast all the snakes out of Ireland (though there were reportedly none), and replaced and disseminated Christianity in place of Pagan worship. Faithful pilgrims make the climb up this mountain “on St. Patrick’s Day or…anytime during the months of June, July, August and September.” (signage near mountain) Many choose to make the climb barefooted. Ouch. There is a humble little chapel on the top and devout climbers stop at each of the three erected stations as they climb. At each station, they perform rituals and formalities of devotion.

As for this girl, I had this very fun Irish gent pick us out our very own J-K walking stick from the holy mountain.

The rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would say, is pretty ridiculous. If you want the details on getting it back to the states, you can ask me privately. It definitely does not reveal my brains – more like the lack of.

I wish we would have had time to climb the actual mountain. The Irish man (pictured above) asked me if I was going to give it a go. Our conversation, as best I can remember it, went like this:

Irish fella: “Are you going to climb it?”

Me: “No, I’m probably not fit enough to make it.”

Irish fella: “You look like you are.”

Me: “Kind thanks, but it’s an illusion.”

Both: Laugh!

I did the absolutely most logical thing aside from climbing: stood at the base, imagined myself climbing it, and shared an Irish ice-cream cone (arguably worth EVERY calorie!) with Jas.

Delicious.

Galway:

This is a western Ireland city that retains a Medieval flare. Supposedly, there is a strong Celtic flame here. There were lots of languages on the streets, so I don’t know what was what. Interesting fact here: one in four are not native born.

While I generally thought Ireland was an overall very clean and uncluttered city, Galway was dirtier than the other cities. I did not like this, because I am totally anti-litter, and the presence of it annoys and saddens me greatly.

Here Jas and I had to pay to use a filthy toilet downtown with offensive jargon on the facility’s walls and Sharai law threats by apparent Muslims. Just gross. And unsettling.

Cute shopping places, though, and this display of ribbons and bands. Never did learn the meaning.

We arrived here late in the evening and did not get a good day – or even a few good hours – here. Too bad, but we saw so many wonderful things that I ought not to mourn this.

Jas and I enjoyed our first night time meal and music entertainment in a pub here. That was exceptionally fun. We jetted prior to the evening getting considerably late. The hired musicians were gifted, playing and singing to the absolute pleasure of everyone. Jas and I thought it was so funny how many American songs were played both in the pubs and on the street by street musicians. Even John Denver and Johnny Cash, two of my favorites. So fun. Nothing like coming to Ireland to experience American music. The pub entertainers said the longer people stayed, the better they would sound. Laugh. Though no Guinness flowing through our blood, the performers sounded fantastic to our sober selves.

For whatever reason(s) the prayers were solicited, I, for one, appreciated the pub’s sign:

Jas and I didn’t eat at “The Kings Head” in Galway, but with a name like that, I had to investigate. Here’s the building’s story: “This building is over 800 years old and retains many of its original medieval features. It was once home to Mayor of Galway…until it was seized from him…following the surrender of Galway to Cromwell’s invading forces in 1653. [Col Peter Stubbers] is thought to have been responsible for the beheading of King Charles 1 of England in 1649.” (signage posted outside building)

Cromwell.

That’s a nasty name attached to an equally nasty man.

This power hungry, cruel, and callous Englishman really caused havoc, heartache, death, and destruction in Ireland in the mid 1600’s. As I understand it, he came to Ireland to reconquer the country and was sent by the English Parliament. Here in Galway in one of the cathedrals, he stored his horses when he came marching and invading into town. What a rotten thing to do to a cathedral.

On a happier note, Columbus apparently came to Galway in 1477 to learn more tales concerning the west prior to returning to Spain.

The Cliffs of Mohr:

Uhm…cool to have been here, as it’s a recommended to see site in Ireland, but it was so cold, rainy, and foggy that I had a bit of a difficult time enjoying it as much as I should have (I am too often guilty of this).

These are the cliffs of Mohr:

Home to this creature:

As for me, I’m gratefully glad I find shelter under a sturdy roof, not a ledge or cliff.

Overlook Tower:

On a clear and fogless day, no doubt the cliffs would have been more impressive and a glorious sight from the Overlook Tower. As we had it, they were overshadowed with decently dense fog and peppered with rain, so the view was lousy at best and largely non-existent at worst.

Geary’s to the rescue in the rain and cold! A tavern with a June fireplace roaring. It was one of the most warm and wonderful soup sipping moments for me in Ireland.

Blarney Castle and Gardens and Kissing the Blarney Stone:

This place was pure glee.

“Built by Gaelic Lords between the 14^th and 16^th centuries,” the Blarney Castle “is known as a tower house.” (posted sign at castle) “The typical tower house was four or five storeys tall with one or two main chambers and some smaller rooms on each floor…” (posted sign at castle) I don’t remember how many storeys this castle had (it was large), but it wound up high. Looking down from the top made me queasy.

The Blarney Castle was really fun to see, the grounds just lovely as lovely can be, and kissing the Blarney Stone was super fun. A very nice Irish gent supports you as you lay supine and reach down to kiss or touch or blow at the Barney Stone – whatever you feel like doing for the few seconds you are given.

I kissed it.

Ages of germs. Oh well.

“The term ‘Blarney’ [means] beguiling but misleading talk,” and it “gained currency during the 16^th century as [the owners of the day] attempted to fend off the demands of Queen Elizabeth 1.” (posted sign at castle) The actual Blarney Stone is an oblong stone built into the lower portion of one upper wall of the castle. There are several legends about the stone’s origin, “each as plausible as the next.” (posted sign at castle).

Here were my two favorite:

• “It was said to have been the stone used by Jacob as a pillow when he dreamed of a ladder extending up to heaven with angels ascending and descending on it The stone was brought from the Holy Land after the Crusades.” (posted sign at castle) Very cool story.
• “A further legend tells us that Cormac McTaidhg Laidir MacCarthy, the builder of the earliest part of the castle, rescued an old woman from drowning in a lake. She turned out to be a witch (witches could not cross over water). In gratitude, she told him of a certain stone already in his castle that had magic properties and that he could benefit by kissing it.” (posted sign at castle)

One of the castle placards reads: “Whatever its origins, the powers of the Blarney Stone – The Stone of Eloquence – are unquestioned.”

Hence, the privilege of kissing it.

Check. Been there, done that.

And got a picture of this Irish clad, handsome ham climbing castle steps:

The castle stairs were something incredible! Narrow. Narrow. Narrow. Did I say narrow? Whewie! A bit scary ascending but so worth it. Fun fact: castles were built so much for defense. They seemed to be stormed and taken on a fairly regular basis, so defense was constantly of paramount importance. The stairs, we learned, were built narrow very much on purpose. Way easier to fight one fella ascending rather than a bunch of men ascending. Building the stairs so narrow allowed passageway of one at a time – and only one. Brilliant. Maybe an advantageous edge in the direction of fighting, too. Cool stuff.

The murder hole: another brilliant castle move. “…The murder hole…allowed the lobby area below to be covered by deadly fire in case the entrance was breached…An undesirable intruder could be attacked with deadly fire, boiling tar, or even a sword or pike.” (signage in castle).

#poorchoiceofcastlestostorm,intruder

This is a view looking way down from the castle’s top. Eeek. I really hoped they had some sort of window bars or blocks to protect climbing children. What an awful thought.

On a much happier note, this was an especially fun part of our vacation for me, because here wandering around the castle I had the fortune of meeting a lovely Deaf couple visiting from California. Fun to chat with my hands in Ireland. The Deaf lady showed me the new sign for Ireland. I was taught that Idaho and Ireland are the same sign (based on the sign for potato, as both are potato places), but the Deaf lady told me the sign for Ireland has changed. Good to know.

Rock of Cashel:

The Rock of Cashel is “a thought-provoking early Christian site…” (Stevens, R. & O’Connor, P., “Ireland, pg 165) Its claim to fame is that here, on this site, the King of Munster was converted to Catholicism by St Patrick in the 5^th century.

Impressive – even all these years later! On our return, one of my friends who has been to Ireland said, “You could literally taste ancient time.” I’d agree.

Powerscourt Garden:

Absolutely stunning! Wordless beauty here. This was in the top three of my most favorite places in Ireland. There is beautiful, and then there is BEAUTIFUL. This was positively the latter kind of beauty. Wow.

I did mind my plant manners (#incrediblydifficult) and took zero clippings of anything here, not even the grass, though I was incredibly tempted, but I decided against it so as to not have Jason dealing with pleading for a wife possibly behind bars in Ireland. It would have, no doubt, been something akin to a felony. These are among the world’s “Top Three” for gardens.

Formerly this was a private castle but was changed into a shopping center and the 47 acres of gardens were made public. Thank goodness! I can’t imagine not having been able to see this when in Ireland.

One of my favorite spots was the pet garden where all 30 pets of the families that have inhabited the property had been laid to rest. I read every stone and took note of every pet’s name. Pets included a cow, ponies, and dogs. I was most fond of this dog’s name: Tinker.

It’s official. Lily has been additionally named. Jas concurs.

#LilyTinkerDonahey

This was a sweet little spot in the 47 acres.

The Japanese gardens were – as they always are – just breathtaking.

Is this Rapunzel’s tower hidden in the woods or what?

The view from the tower’s top showed the wide array of lovely trees planted on these acres. Again, simply stunning.

The Book of Kells:

Believed to have been written in 800 AD, this is a monk preserved manuscript of the Four Gospels – written in Latin. We saw a page opened within the book of Luke (pictures not allowed, but this was a posted wall hanging of what it looked like):

Dublin’s Trinity College/Old Library:

The chance of a lifetime to set our toes on this threshold. Absolutely gorgeous!

And Ireland’s declaration: (Final paragraph: “We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God…”) What a brilliant thing to do, Irish friends.

Here I am chumming with some of the finest in intellect: Socrates and Shakespear. Please kind gents, share your wit and wisdom with me!

If you are at all a flower or plant lady like I am, Ireland is the place for you to get your fill of lovely. Greenery galore. Ivy faultlessly flowing down rock walls or sagaciously crawling around windows or doors. Colorful flowers effortlessly spilling over black pots – perfectly dashing them with a sense of vibrancy. Wooden or weaved baskets – full of Irish lushness – suspended from apartment or business windowsills. So many business fronts had fake foliage dropping around and above doorways and entrances. Once inside, the displays continued, many hanging from ceilings and adorning corners and wall space.

The vegetative beauty added to my joy so exceedingly much.

And should you be interested in Ireland’s wildflowers, well, here they are:

I was avidly fond of the ox-eye daisy, Irish orchid, and foxglove. So often, wordless beauty.

#DearGod,thankyouformakingIrelandsobeautiful.

I considerably lightened Jason’s wallet while we were in Ireland (#you’rewelcome,Jas) plus I got so many more décor ideas. I can’t imagine Jas feels very positive about that. As he is fond of quoting, “Come what may and love it.” (Wirthlin, Joseph, General Conference, December 2014)

Jas did a top-notch job finding us countryside Airbnb’s, and we enjoyed the hospitality of the Irish in each place with their breads, jams, treats, and fruit left to warmly welcome us.

Only one of the places we stayed had a top sheet on their beds. All but one housed a little tub of sorts in the kitchen sink. An Irish gal told me it’s to preserve the cleanliness of the kitchen sink. So funny. The showers were fitful to figure out and often unpredictable and sporadic. Jas could figure them out much better than I could. Guess it’s a good thing I shower fast (thanks to growing up in a family of nine with two small bathrooms and basic military training where you got two minutes to shower if you were lucky).

#fastshower?noproblem!

This Irishwoman must have a great sense of humor. This was waiting for us in the last Airbnb at which we stayed:

Glad to try an Irish breakfast; I quite enjoyed it:

I skipped the sausages and bread. SO.MUCH.BREAD.AND.PASTRIES here. By week’s end, I’d had enough pastries and bread to last me six months!

Many signs were posted on street poles – mostly campaigning ones. It works. I actually loved the absence of billboards. Once in a while you would see a larger sign secured into the grassy landscape to the side of the road, but it was way more the exception than the norm.

It was definitely fun to visit Ireland. The lack of wrecking preservatives in their food made it a real health treat for Jason and me.

It is most certainly the land of 40 shades of green. Stunning landscapes. The rock walls were charming and attractive works of art. They even corralled animals.

Speaking of animals, the sheep were so adorable as they grazed in pastures all over the countryside. We never had to contend for country road space with them, but had we the honor, we would have gladly acceded to them.

Plenty of white cattle, too. And near perfect looking white farmhouse. Very picturesque.

Jas and I loved this little Irish detail: connected to the bottles lid caps. Brilliantly helpful! Go Irish!

The pubs and taverns were the best places to grab delicious grub if you ask me. The atmosphere was so friendly, totally relaxed and easy going, and just downright fun.  As I mentioned previously, one rainy day, we happily chanced upon one with a fireplace burning. It was the delight of the day!

Whatever it’s been in the past (I’ve read not so good), pub food has come a long way if ever it was bad. Jas and I loved every bite every time. I wasn’t sure how both the reception and the atmosphere would be for non-drinkers in the pubs, but we were welcome, welcome, welcome.

#Noproblemnon-drinkingJas&Katrina

Exception x 1.

Brian, our walking tour guide in Belfast, told us this pub/bar’s traditional and old-fashioned Irish owner would kick your bum out, out, out if you took up a seat and didn’t drink. That’s an Irish man serious about the money coming into his pub/bar. Laugh.

Aran: it’s a word you hear a lot in Ireland. It has reference to the Aran Islands (wish we could have visited them) and refers to “thick undyed wool with its natural oils retained.” (Online, definition: Aran definition and meaning)

One shop’s attendant told us that the wool in Ireland is too rough and non-desirable for wear and so wool is shipped in from New Zealand. I don’t know if this is true all over Ireland, but in Galway, it seemed to be.

No matter, wool is wool, and any authentic wool was good enough for us.

At this shop in Galway, we found Jas his cute Irish hat. Looks so good on him. He wore it steady for the rest of our trip. I think he looks so attractively cute in it. Good find.

Adjacent to Blarney’s Castle is the Blarney Woollen Mills of Ireland (since 1823). What a place! Jas bought me this wool (totally non itchy…that’s the case if it’s made from the best of wool our neighbor told us prior to coming to Ireland, and he seems to have been right) sweater. It’s made from Merino yarn – my first Aran item! Bedtime aside, I worn it non-stop after getting it. It was a nice downgrade from the coat, especially as the weather warmed. It is hand stitched of course, lovely, and smells like wool smells, and I love it.

#Thankyouverymuch,Jas

The tiny streets almost qualified Jason to be a race car driver. He can pass anybody within an inch and do it going some 120 km.

#WelldoneJas

The above picture gives you a decent peek into the tininess of the country roads. We took those way more than the freeways, though we did do some freeway driving, too, of course.

In closing (if you made it this far…if so, thanks for that by the way – this was super long…hard to stop), here are a few Irish “Murphy’s Law” maxims on a t-shirt we saw – just so you are in the know when you next meet an Irish (maybe you will impress him/her with one of these lines):

“Falling buttered bread always lands butter side down.”

“The light at the end of the tunnel is the headlight of an oncoming truck.”

“In order to get a loan, you must first prove you don’t need it.”

“There’s never time to do it right but there’s always time to do it over.”

It was good to go and wonderful to return. In one Irish word, it was craic! I missed Lily! And yes, we most certainly brought that doll heart back some specialized Irish gifts.

Love you, Lily girl.

#thanksforbeingagoodgirlwhilemama&papaweregone

Special thanks to Ava and Kelsea who were the best dogsitters on planet Earth.

As the Irish say, “No worries” if you didn’t read to the end. If you did, sincere thanks.

Unto all the world: #Ireland,thanksforareallygreattime!