Day 7: Belfast and the Black Taxi Tour

Our day began in a haze of attempting to recall what exactly happened the night before (bucket list number 7).  After checking out of the Ibis hotel, which was like sleeping in a steamy futuristic time capsule, we walked across the street to pack-up our rental car with all our bags.  We had a bit of a set back when I forgot where I parked the VW Golf.  Although my memory of what level I had parked the car on was a bit hazy, I knew for certain I had parked it next to an open window overlooking the street below, and the concrete parking spaces were painted green. Only after retracing our steps exactly from how I would have driven into the garage and walked up through the garage two levels, bags in hand did I realize where I had parked the car.  A slightly frustrating set-back but we were quickly off...

Once the car was all loaded we went back down to the street corner to find one of the famous Black Taxis which offer tours of the two rival neighborhoods in Belfast, normally off-limits to tourists.  After being introduced to our cabbie, Murphy, we headed out with a brief history lesson on the Troubles.  Dan was a bit more knowledgable of the background of the Troubles and seemed to follow the thick Northern Ireland accent of Murphy much easier than I did, or maybe he just tuned him out.  Basically, what I understood is that starting in the early 1700s Northern Ireland had a very brutal relationship with its colonial possessors, England. Murphy said that back in those days if you were Irish and not loyal to the crown, the English would have you shipped to the West Indies to work alongside the African slaves.  Then in the late 1960s during America´s Civil Rights Movement, the Northern Irish Republicans began picketing and protesting in a similar fashion to MLK Jr´s marches on Birmingham and Washington.  Since the late 1960s there have been outbursts of violence between the Protestant Loyalist neighborhood and the Catholic Republican neighborhood, which eventually led to a complete political upheaval in Northern Ireland.  During this time, known as the Troubles, the IRA began a campaign of guerrilla warfare against the British police and military.  Violence overtook the streets of Belfast and the footage from 1969 on Falls Road looked more like something from WWII.  The Troubles eventually came to an end in 1993 with the signing of the Good Friday Peace Agreement.

We set off to tour the West Belfast neighborhoods with Murphy as our guide.  Our first stop was in the Loyalist neighborhood, Shankill.  This working-class neighborhood looked like a run-down project yard with trash scattered in the grass lawns and the houses not very well kept.  Obviously most outsiders immediately notice the political murals painted on the ends of the apartment houses and the Union Jack flags flying on each doorstep.  Some of the murals honored famous Loyalist commanders who were born and raised in Shankill, others were murals devoted to honoring the Queen of England and even Martin Luther, the founder of the Protestant Reformation.  The one thing that sticks out in my mind during our tour of Shankill was not the murals, but rather the interment prison, Crumlin Road Gaol.  We learned that Murphy had served time there as a political prisoner of war.  During the Troubles the British implemented a program which made it legal to imprison Catholics, whom they believed to be dissenters, without any trial or due process.  This internment without trial lasted nearly 35 years and many of the Irish Catholics died in Gaol prison without ever seeing any trial or jury.

After visiting Shankill and passing Falls End Church, the red-brick Protestant church which marks the southern boundary of the Loyalist neighborhood, we took a quick right turn and immediately we were in the Republican neighborhood known as The Falls.  This neighborhood was much better kept, with beautiful flowers and green grass in the yards in front of the redbrick apartment buildings.  The most impressive part of seeing The Falls was the murals for sure.  These murals were lined along Divis Street, one after another, stretching for nearly one mile.  These murals had similar themes to the Loyalist murals: tributes to political prisoners and those who died in the hunger strikes.  But there were also murals that paid tribute to famous political revolutions around the world, including the Cuban Revolution and the Palestinian Conflict.  After touring a museum dedicated to preserving the history of the Troubles and female POWs, we took a quick drive down to the Peace Line.

The Peace Line is a several mile-long street with high lofting walls, protected by razor wire on each side.  The Peace Line is meant to be a dividing line, separating the two neighborhoods and protected under the Good Friday Agreement.  Murphy mentioned that one day we may see these walls come down, but not until each side is ready to come to terms with the past.  I was definitely struck by this somber cord and realized that these walls were placed to separate two warring neighborhoods that were divided based on their religion.  And the saddest thing was that both sides worship the same God and are branches of the exact same religion.  Obviously the national and political divisions play a significant role here as well, but really these two neighborhoods were warring and continue to harass each other based on their religious beliefs, which makes the Peace Line a very sad reminder to the brutality humans can inflict on each other in the name of religion.  Murphy asked us to put our John Hancock on the wall and Dan and I both signed our names to honor the peace between these neighborhoods and recognize the struggle and political turmoil that continues to plague Belfast. 

Murphy dropped us off right in front of our favorite pub in Belfast, The John Hewitt.  After an excellent fish and chips and a quick pint, we were headed south to Dublin, on the final leg of our trip around Ireland.

Day 6: Sunny with a chance of political conflict.

We made a right hand-turn in the town of Strabane and crossed the River Foyle. It was just a bridge. There were no big gigantic welcome signs, tourist centers, or rest stops. It was just a bridge into a small town. It could have been a giant fence, a stone wall, barbed wire, armed with military because the changes that would take place were absolutely stunning. It was more than just signs changing from km to miles, from euros to pounds, from just Shannons and Paddys to Shannons, Paddys, and Nigels. It was a general aura, and underlying current... I mean maybe it was because I was aware of the bloody history that engulfed the region and I was thinking about it too much, but I didn't think so. There was even controversy about the name of the town we were about to enter. The loyalists, those who were loyal to the UK and the queen believe the town should be called Londonderry. The republicans who believe that Ireland should be one united island believe it should be just called Derry. 

On our journey into town, certain areas were covered with the Union Jack. Others, much more subtle, had the flag of the Irish republic... but Nelson is blogging more about our first night in the north.


We woke up after a very restful night of no drinking in the center of Derry. The city is quite small, so we thought to have a very quick tour and then head back to natural, green Ireland. The sun was finally shining after three days of pounding rains, fog and clouds that obscured the landscape. After an awful breakfast of meat and beans, we made our way to the old city - the only one in Ireland with its walls remaining. Built around what was about an 8 block radius were these towering walls that gave sweeping views of the surrounding areas. As soon as we climbed on the first wall, the first of many political murals appeared... It was the beginning of what would be a long history lesson on the conflict between the protestant loyalists and the catholic republicans.

East of the city center called the 'east bog' was an Irish stronghold. The west bank was loyalist territory. The conflict was apparent in signs, flags, and emotions. This sign was clearly visible to all in the city.

About a half an hour more of walking on the wall - seeing cannons that protected the city, a church, and some other interesting things, I was struck by a monument that looked completely incomplete. After a bit of research, I discovered that it used to be complete, but it was destroyed by an IRA bomb in 1973... It was amazing that there were parts of the city still damaged by the 'troubles'. 

We packed up the car and headed to the coast of northern Ireland. As we passed by the cities, I was struck by the immense presence of the United Kingdom. Cell phone service was BT, the BBC was everywhere, the royal mail was the mail service... I know we were in the UK, but it was interesting. The architecture of the towns were different - the buildings looked more like modern american structures.. In Ireland - almost every storefront had the look and feel of what an Irish pub would look like in the US. The roads were much more kept up looking like the British government spent more on infrastructure than the Irish republican government in Dublin. 

We made our way up to the north coast - the site of the Giant's causeway. We were ecstatic that the weather was finally cooperating. As we arrived at the visitor's center, it was again apparent of the contrast between the Irish and British government. This place was orderly and organized - with tour maps and audio guides. Most of the Irish sites we visited were pretty raw.. This is not commentary on one way or another, but a good observation. 

Anyway, we made our way to the Giant's Causeway and it was spectacular... The rock formations were uniquely Irish - the basalt stones in hexagonal shapes, the sweeping green mountains behind us with the crystal clear greenish blue water.. it was something else. 

A bit further from the tourist area (there were throngs of people) was another trail. They told us at the visitors center that it was closed due to rock slides, but that wasn't going to stop us.. We made our way up to the top of the cliffs and saw the most beautiful scenery in Ireland. It was magical. 

We got back in the car and continued our journey around the north coast. The drive was spectacular with sweeping views of the North Atlantic ocean. The sun was gleaming on the green blades of grass and again justifying Ireland's green reputation. We passed and stopped in harbors, small villages with pubs and ice cream stores. of course because of the weather, the towns were hopping with people. It was really spectacular. 

Our last stop was to a rope bridge that connected the mainland with a small island. The bridge was first constructed for fishermen as the cove made it a natural harbor for the boats going out to sea. The bridge was just one single rope and they had to drag their fishing gear over to the island on it. Yikes. This one was much safer for tourists, but a bit scary for those who are afraid of heights (like me). Of course, the 1 mile walk to the bridge had sweeping views of the coast and the island after the bridge was majestic.. Ireland is absolutely beautiful, no question. 

The ride to Belfast was great. Nelson has been such a trooper, driving over 1,000 KM for the week.. I was doing my part with navigation (thank you iPhone!) and we arrived in Belfast around 9 PM. To be honest, it looked like an industrial British city. While I was in the hotel getting our room keys, poor Nelson was witnessing a bunch of 16 year old whores making out with some sketchy dudes on the side of the street. I think that may have set our expectations wrong right off the bat... 

We got out and started exploring the city's nightlife. After a night off of drinking, we decided that our thirst buds were active again and wanted to make a memorable night in Belfast. We stopped at this pretty neat bar... Belfast's claim to fame is having these very old pubs from the 1800's.. They do have some local beer as well... Nelson went for a guinness as I tried some of the local fare. to be honest, it wasn't that great - typical british beer.. warm and stale! 

We wandered around to see a few more sites -the city was getting a bit nicer as we moved away from our hotel. We stopped in a lonely planet recommendation... and it was good. The beer was good, nice atmosphere although there were only a few there. The bar was a bit dead - but we had fun anyway. Back in Fota Island when we created our bucket list - item #11 was to order an irish car bomb in the north. We thought it was pretty damned funny before- but in Northern Island it was a bit sensitive. Nevertheless, we were DETERMINED to get our bucket list completed... We called over the bartender, and to be as diplomatic as possible, I asked him what that drink was called where you order a Guinness and a shot of Jameson with a touch of Kahlua... he laughed and asked me if we wanted an Irish Car Bomb. SCORE!

Ok I know I'm not 21 anymore, but we are young at heart... and creating memories that 5 years from now, we can talk about over and over again. Isn't that what life is about? We were ready to go out more, but bars closed at 1 AM and there were no nightclubs open or anything, so we decided to end the evening on a high note.

Ireland is beautiful... enchanting.. the people are awesome. When we entered into the north, it got even more interesting. As a political science major - there's nothing more interesting than political and social conflict. It was all around us no matter where we went. The next day would get even more interesting... 

Day 5: Rain, Clouds and a lot of Driving

We set out from Galway first thing in the morning.  Pops at the B & B was a bit slow bringing the breakfast, but no rush for us after only a few hours of dizzying sleep the night before.  The weather was not in our favor this day, so we made the best of it by driving over 250 kilometers from Galway to Derry.

The first thing that sticks in my mind is the endless fields of green with stone fences zig-zagging across the countryside.  Though there may have been no sun, Ireland is still breathtaking, even behind the grey clouds.  Endless sloping hills dotted with white sheep with their backs painted different colors.  Dan and I figured that this must be a way of marking the ownership of the livestock, but it seems strange because nearly all the sheep had either a red or a blue streak down their spine.

As the drive began to set in, and we became a bit restless, we decided to stop at a town called Sligo in County Mayo for a quick bite to eat.  Feeling a bit hung-over still, this pit stop was brilliant.  We found an excellent bistro, which I am blanking on the name, but the food was amazing.  I got the cajun chicken bread bowl and Dan got rashers with cabbage.  We both ended up enjoying each others more than our own.  The steamed cabbage was so fresh and tasty, it reminded me of the steamed veggies I get at the local farmers market in south Georgia.

The best part of the drive for me was seeing the old Protestant church built by John Yeats in 1811.  Many of you may be more familiar with his son, William Butler Yeats, the famous Irish poet.  Though the church was simple and was nothing more than a dozen or so wooden pews with a modest pulpit at the front of the arch way.  The sight to see here was obviously the grave stone of W.B. Yeats.  I imagined they have replaced the headstone a few times over the years, because the graves next to Yeats, including his wife´s, were completely eroded away with moss growing in the tine porous holes.  I´m not sure why but I had this extreme sensation of peacefulness walking around the cemetery.  It may have been the amazing countryside surroundings or the enormous trees with drooping limbs overhead, but this was not a creepy cemetery by any means.  It was an absolute serene graveyard, fit for a poet like Yeats.

Once we had left County Mayo, we headed north for Donegal.  I don´t remember exactly why I wanted to stop here, maybe cause I knew this was the place to get the traditional Irish tweed caps.  Unfortunately, we got to town a bit late and all the shops were closing and the castle we planned on scaling (the second item on our bucket list) had just closed its gates as well.  So we pushed on to Derry, but before we made it to town, we stopped briefly to take in this amazing beach, where the local surfers were literally running down the road to catch the last few breaks of the day.

Driving into Derry was surprisingly uneventful.  We were planning some border check or even a few guards by the side of the road, but once we crossed the River Foyle, the only difference we noticed were the orange UK license plates which lacked the EU emblem, the  road signs were no longer written in Gaelic and the posted speeds were now in miles per hour.  We made it safely to Derry and found our hotel without any trouble, and after a quick dip in the hot tub to relax our tense muscles from the 5+ hour drive, we walked around the famed Derry city walls, flanked by cannons aimed directly at the Irish catholic communities on the outskirts of the city.

More on the walk around Derry tomorrow.

Day 4: Foggy with a chance of Whiskey

One of Robert Frost's most famous poems was about taking the 'road less traveled'.. writing that turning on a path that one may not know could be the right one. This was definitely what was in store for us on this day in County Galway.

We began day 4 cramped in a tiny bed and breakfast just down the road from the city center. We were up after an early end to the evening before, but opened the windows to the pattering of typical Irish rain on the pavement beneath. Yes, it was to be yet another wet day - but no surprise to us or the locals.

During a traditional Irish breakfast (rashers, sausage and sunny side egg), we debated what to do in spite of the nasty rain.. We were looking for an adventure.. something that no one else would do and that would be memorable. Our trip was really about creating lasting memories that we would talk ten years from now...

We decided to take a drive to the Connemara and hike one of the mountains there. We were in dire need of some good exercise and adventure. The drive would be about one hours drive from Galway. The destination according to the guide book was one of those things you 'have to see' in Ireland. So we were off and planned to return in the evening to participate in yet another night out in Galway city.

As soon as we left the hotel, bands of rain from the cold Atlantic blanketed our car. The fog had rolled in, making visibility bearable for the driving, but absolutely awful for taking in the scenery. We saw the outline of rolling hills, bogs, and mountains... but that was it, an outline. The sense of extreme disappointment entered the car knowing that we were missing the most incredible, breathtaking views in Ireland. It was starting to be a disappointing trip and awful decision to go.

The rain was so hard we decided that hiking was not going to be in the agenda for the day, so we kept journeying down the country road and then made a left on an even more desolate stretch. We were headed to the coast to buy a pint and contemplate. We arrived in a quaint harbor town called Roundstone, greeted by the famous Galway Hookers - sailboats with black hulls and sails the color of red wine. These fishing boats were designed to weather the powerful ocean, and this day was absolutely no exception.

Nelson parked the car (he is now an expert left-side of the road driver)  and we stopped in the nearest pub. It was old, traditionally Irish, and full of people who probably had the same idea as we did - to retreat inside to enjoy a pint.

The highlight of the menu was the oysters and Nelson ordered a plate of them (of course I did not partake). They were caught recently right near the restaurant - and the report was they were fresh and delicious, especially with a pint of IPA.

It was a cool lunch because we were so far off the beaten path.. we talked it up with the locals and took in the rain and obscured view of the sea. Our Irish luck was starting to change.

When we exited the restaurant, the fog had lifted a bit and the rain subsided to a mere drizzle. The visibility was getting much better, so we continued along the coastal road to see beaches, bogs, mountains, and lots of Irish sheep. We arrived in Clifton to a bustling town full of shops and tourist traps. Really nothing to see.

It was about 3:30 and ready to return to Galway. We heard about this spooky but enchanting country road called the 'bog road' that cut through the swampland and hills of the coastal plain.  We decided to try to make an adventure out of it and continued along the country road until making a sharp left onto this obscure path. A hazy mist glazed over the mossy grass.. and the local livestock grazed along the way. Of course, Nelson thought at this point that the road was perfect to learn how to drive stick. Embarrassingly enough, I had no clue how to drive a manual transmission, but despite the hills, sharp turns, bikers, sheep, and oncoming cars on literally a one-lane road, it was time to learn. I will spare you the details but there were a lot of stalls, floods, and near misses of the rocks on the side of the road - but I eventually got the hang of it and drove for about 20 minutes... I felt a huge sense of accomplishment and happy that I learned something new that would be helpful in the future. 

We arrived back in Galway to begin the evening festivities. We had a good tapas dinner followed by a walk down the coast to a smaller town called Salt Hill, a less touristy and more local part of Galway. We were excited because its nice to be a part of the local scene. We stopped in a bar called Oslo - a microbrewery to sample a few of the local brews and whiskeys and shared a drink with the bartender who returned the favor by giving us some advice on the Monday evening scene.

We followed his advice and our next stop was a packed 'Riosin Dubh' where we met more locals, including a New Zealander who has been here for 10 years and a few others.. Galway is a college town - about 25% of the population are students - so the scene was lively, evening in the wee hours of the morning. Surprisingly, the average age was older though, a nice change compared to some of the bars in Mexico. The party went on pretty late and stumbled home knowing it was another memorable day in the books. 

Day 3: Cliffs, Parades, and BEER

When I was in 7th grade, my English teacher taught us the components of a Limerick - this poem with five lines and has to rhyme. Growing up in a town heavily influenced by Irish culture, it was somewhat of a dream or fantasy that there was a place called Limerick or that there were leprechauns and pots of gold.. I marched the St. Patrick's Day parade every year from age 14 - 18 and this culture was a part of my growing up.

I woke up this morning in the center of Limerick... in a hotel on the Shannon River... that was pretty cool.

After drinking a few gallons of beer and eating a house for the past ten days, a long run was in order... we ventured over the bridge on a running path, through some green marsh and around a lake. Everyone told us that Limerick was kind of sketchy - and I could see this industrial-rustic look and feel.. with factories nearby and a working class vibe. It was a Sunday and hard to see people at work - but it was evident.

After our 5.4 mile run and check out, we had a quick bite (Goat cheese in Ireland is delicious by the way) - we headed off to County Claire to see what is a must-do for anyone traveling in Ireland - the Cliffs of Moher.

About an hour or so through the drive - we again were surrounded by fantastic scenery. Hills and mountains of green.. green everywhere - with dramatic landscapes and beautiful blue water.



It was a bit chilly - with misty rains that were coming off the coast. The Atlantic wind howled as it scooped up moisture and dumped it on us. But when we arrived in Moher, it was not raining thankfully. We parked the car and walked up to these majestic cliffs.. 200 meters in height that divided the mighty Atlantic with the shoreline. The cliffs were mossy, but breathtaking. I could look at them for hours. The distance down from the top of the cliffs were a bit unsettling. I could not stop thinking of how many people may have ended their lives on those rocks - how easy it was for one to jump... alas - we walked down and drove away.

Another hour in the car and I felt a bit more comfortable with Nelson's driving (he's getting the hang of it) although on this one in particular we had some close calls with a bus, pedestrians, curbs, shrubbery, etc. We passed some dramatic views of the hillside and really quaint Irish towns. It was neat.



We arrived in Galway at 5:30 PM. I had booked the 'Four Seasons' B&B to feel like we were actually going to a Four Seasons.  It wasn't anything like a Four Seasons. It was a tiny, quaint, nice place that gave us decent accommodations. Good news was that the ADE ladies were in town as well, so we quickly met up with them.

A quick dinner at a local restaurants, we all made our way to the street to watch a really incredible parade. This week is the Galway arts festival, so we had a nice treat.


The floats were incredibly artistic and the route was filled with artists, music, great costumes, etc. We were really pleased. The rest of the night was going to another Irish pub and lamenting in the good beer and great people. Irish music is great.. and the vibe in this city is really cool. 





Although I haven't sunk my teeth yet into Galway, it seems like a really cool town. It's a college town, so there are a lot of pubs and the people seem great. The city is clean, there are tons of things to do (it seems), so it will be a few great days ahead. 

Day 2: Dingle Berries

We didn´t actually find any berries in Dingle, though Dan did order any berries on hand for breakfast at the B&B.  The best experience in Dingle was having our future read the night before, by a mystic Irish lassie who specialized in generic horoscope writing.  She told me that I have had a very hard life and that I was a very strong person, and Dan was very bubbly and had a warm ora and was a genuine lover.  Dick Macks, if you ever get a chance to stop for a pint, was quintessential.  The aging books with tan leather pealing off the shelfs opposite the aging whisky that no one can afford to drink, is genuine Ireland.    

Before we set off the next morning bright and early, Dan asked the owner of the house what recommendations she had before leaving the peninsula and she said, “Ahh, you can´t miss the Slea Head, this drive is one for the ages.”  And so we set off in the blue VW Golf around the Dingle Peninsula.  Being still a bit hesitant to side-swipe oncoming traffic, I was sticking fairly close to the left side walls which hug the roads with ivy clinging for dear life.  I quickly realized I was coming close to giving Dan another heart attack so I tried my best to forget about oncoming traffic and stick to the white dotted line in the middle of the road.

We first came upon this fairly small town with scattered houses along a blue strip of ocean. The place dated back to 5 BC when it was first constructed and through a series of invasions of sea faring vikings, it was finally established as a fort over looking the giant sea walls.  We stayed just enough time to snap a few photos and then we were off again along the narrow roads to Slea Head.

Once we arrived I knew instantly why the locals referred to the town as a sleigh.  The entire valley seemed to be carved out from the jagged cliffs and came to a series points along the ocean wall.  It was absolutely stunning sitting on the cliff side looking over the emerald landscape, with a whipping breeze stirring up the bone chilling blue atlantic below.  Dan was nervous immediately getting out of the car, due to my cliff-hanging parking job, which startled the edge of a ditch, almost close enough to be blown over by the gusting wind.  

We made it around Slea Head safely, meeting a few locals that were boisterous as ever, and headed back to Killarney where we heard there would be a championship match between two rival teams of the traditional Gaelic football.  We arrived safely without any cuts or bruises and parked our car outside the stadium.  We had plenty of time to waste before the match, so we decided to catch a pint or two in town.  We ended up meeting the star player´s family for the rival team at a pub and took a few quick pics with the family, which Dan bought a round of beers for.  

The match was brilliant, one of the memories that I will take a way for years to come.  We found our seats, if you´d call them that, in the center of the Kerry mob, sporting the green and gold jerseys, and flying the flags of the local team.  These three lads behind us pretty much explained all the rules before the match and as the game ensued, they began rifling curses at the other team like calls from a playbook.  We ended up not only walking away from the match with a few new Irish slogans to shout for the coming days, but we also gained a sense of the Irish joy which everyone, both Kerry or Tyron shared: a love for sport.  

These people, though they may be poor, have a bond that shows the wealth at the bottom of their hearts.  I saw players throwing each other around and tossing straight blows to each other´s head throughout the game, but what happened at the end of the match?  They came up and hugged each other like brothers and stripped off their jersey and traded it with their rival.  The genuine bond shared among the Irish is one that is unshakeable.  These are true brothers, though they may toss around a lot of slag, they still know the common bond that binds them all, and this is something I have come to truly respect.

And we're off...

 We sat in a Volkswagon Golf... blue hatchback with manual steering.. Driver's side on the right. Our bags were packed and in my iPhone was a bucket list... of all the crazy fun and stupid things we were going to do for the next ten days to make our voyage through the Emerald Isle a memorable one. The list, compiled over a week of pondering included finding a pot of gold, ordering an Irish Car Bomb in the north (ok that's kind of disrespectful but dangerously fun), and participating in a hurling match.

Our drive was a bit scary.. Nelson said he was a manual transmission expert, but I knew that there hasn't been practice recently, especially that we were going to be driving on the left side of the road. I have never driven stick before - a frequent embarrassment but reality for me. To make matters worse, we both were pretty hung over from the party from the night before - dehydrated, tired, and hungry.. Alas we were about to begin our voyage.

My plans as they are often were to journey out solo to see the country - rent a car and explore the area. Luckily, Nelson was at the same conference and had the same plans, so we decided to join forces.. I was very glad for this. I like traveling alone, but it could be stressful to meet up with people and try to meet new ones. What's good is that we both had similar goals and agendas for the trip.

The drive through County Cork was largely uneventful as I nervously watched Nelson master the manual transmission. As soon as we entered County Kerry... the terrain was magically transformed into this green enchanting forest of trees and rolling hills.. as we got deeper into the County, green mountains began to appear as well. I can understand why the Irish are green and they call it the emerald Isle. Our stomachs were grumbling so we decided to make a stop in Kilarney for some lunch. 

Kilarney was that quintessential Irish town that you pictured. Storefronts looked like the same type of front you would see in an Irish pub anywhere in the US. Black facades with wood.. really nice. 

We walked around the town that was bustling with people - full of shops and pubs. There was an old stone church in the center of town.. We stopped in a restaurant recommended by the guide book - ordered some pretty big sandwiches with Irish bacon (they call it rashers) and soaked that Jameson that was prevalent in the stomach. 

While in the restaurant we found out that there would be a huge Celtic Football match the next day at 5:00 PM. So we are planning on returning tomorrow afternoon to catch it. 

We were off again and as we drove towards the Dingle Peninsula, the drive got more amazingly serene. We ended up riding along the coast to green mountains, and then laid our sights on the Atlantic Ocean looking west instead of looking east. I've been to Europe many times before, but have never seen the Atlantic.. and it hit me that just a few weeks ago I was sailing in the Atlantic from South America.. and sailing in the Atlantic from New York.. and now I'd be viewing it from a completely different perspective. 

The weather was beautiful.. blue skies and pretty warn (60 degrees) which is actually perfect weather in Ireland. The weather here sucks about 300 days a year. We were very fortunately to have this and hope it lasts. We turned around a bend and saw an extended shoulder, so we pulled over, got out of the car and saw this incredible beach where they were giving surfing lessons. Now, this comment is for all of the Brazilians that think that 15 degrees is too cold for the beach, but there were people swimming, surfing, laying on the beach to get some sun. It was unbelievable. 

Through the rest of my drive, I was reflecting on why I love Ireland so much. You know, when I was in Prague a few years ago.. it was really beautiful. But I didn't like it - because I measure the quality of a city on the warmth and friendliness of its people. People and their culture are what make up a place, not necessarily the landscape and buildings. The Irish people so far have been the absolutely nicest people I've come across. They love to talk about their culture, the food, to sing and dance, and to drink the night away. I have been so happy to meet so many amazing people. They may not want you in their personal space (very different from Mexico) but they really want you to be part of their lives... It's an incredible feeling. 

About 30 minutes more of driving, we pulled up to this little B&B at the center of town. It was quaint, but really good to rest and relax for an adventurous day ahead of us... and a night exploring Dingle. 

We are off to a restaurant that specializes in Berries.. yes that's right... Dingle Berries. More to come...