Feeding the Sheep

Shades of green. Just like I imagined.

As we continue toward the fishing village of Dingle, we stop to take roadside photos.

An Irishman with a bucket of feed walks down the path. 

When he returned Robin asked him what he's doing.

Irishman: "Feeding the sheep."

Robin: "Because there's not enough grass?"

A glimpse of the Atlantic.

Very Ireland.

Inch Beach

A couple of helpful old-timers in this highway pub assured us that Inch Beach was just around the next curve or so.

Cold, windy, and damp. But still a nice stop.

Just beyond the rocks are a couple of surfers.

Carla ponders some mystical sand writing that might have been here for hundreds of years.

Jamie.

More mystical evidence. A miniature stonehenge.

The beach started getting crowded so we continued our journey.

Inch Cemetery

Friday morning we headed off to Dingle, a fishing village on a peninsula on the Atlantic coast of Ireland, the westernmost point of Europe.

Robin's Euro-driving-skills are getting even better. Can't always find drivers as good as this one. 

Our first stop was at a pub in the middle of nowhere to ask if Inch Beach was near. We found out it's just up the road. As we walked back to the car we realized we were parked a few feet from a cemetery with an ocean view.

What's the Craic?

What's the Craic: An Irish phrase for "Where's the fun?" "Craic" is pronounced "crack."

We haven't had any trouble finding craic around here. Here's a photographic hint before we run off to a birthday dinner at Lord Kenmare's Restaurant, located here in Murphys of Killarney. Our room is on the third floor and Lord Kenmare's is on the 1st floor (which is actually the 2nd floor, but they call the 1st floor the ground floor, so the next floor up is the 1st floor).

At Cork Airport we asked for directions to a nearby restaurant, which turns out to be Bull McCabe's, above. Thank heavens we payed a few extra Euros for a GPS to put in our rental car. Robin is doing all the driving. She's doing an amazing job of staying on the left side of the road. I'm in charge of typing our destination into the GPS device. So far, my skillful input has been responsible for our successful peregrinations. That plus Robin's skill for driving a left-handed stick-shift on the "wrong" side of the road. 

We asked the waitress if they were still serving food. It was mid-afternoon and we were a couple of hours behind schedule. Fog had been delayed our flight a couple of hours in London, Jamie's luggage was missing, his wallet was missing, and several other minor details had complicated the trip for them. So we were feeling pretty tired and needy by the time we found our way to Bull McCabe's. 

We asked the waitress if they were still serving food. She went to check and yes, they could feed us. The gent above, John, came to our table. We said "Thanks for letting us order food." He said "That's our mission: to feed the hungry and the poor."

My Official First Guinness in Ireland.

Jamie, one of the "hungry and the poor," heads for the Bull McCabe parking lot.

Less than two hours later, thanks to Robin and our GPS, we're checking in to our rooms at Murphys of Killarney.

Jamie's still wondering where his wallet is. Maureen, the front desk person spent a lot of time on the phone with Heathrow Airport Lost & Found and located his wallet the next day. With money and credit cards all intact. It's being held for him to pick up when we return to London Monday evening.

After checking in, we walked around town a bit to check out the neighborhood. Pretty quiet. That would change over the next couple of nights.

Murphy's at night. Our rooms are nice. The people are extremely nice. In the pub we can put everything on a tab with our room number. How conveeeeenient.

Traditional Irish music starts a 9:30 pm. On Thursday night the moderate crowd thinned out early, but we stayed until midnight with a handful of others, listening to the music and sipping Irish coffees, Guinness, and Ciders. Oh, and Robin turned started dancing with the locals.

Two other Americans (from Florida) and Robin are spellbound by the music.

The accordion player trances out during an Irish tune. Yes, I got video. He's a great harmonica player too. This trio is due back tonight (St. Patrick's Day) in the bar. We'll check it out.

An American in Killarney.

Much more to come.

Countdown to Ireland

Packing and wrapping up some last-minute chores before we fly to Ireland tomorrow morning. 

Friends from Kentucky, Jamie & Carla, are arriving in London tonight, meeting us at Heathrow airport tomorrow morning, and flying to Ireland with us for my big birthday bash at Murphy's Pub in Killarney. In case you missed it in an earlier blog, my birthday is March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, I've never been to Ireland, I've never had a real Guinness Stout in an Irish pub, and I've never been 67 before. I plan to start remedying all those shortcomings, starting tomorrow, with help from Robin, Jamie, and Carla. I've been friends with Jamie since the 3rd grade, went to high school, church, and college with him for nearly 15 years. But I've never had a Guinness Stout with him. Especially not in Ireland. It's going to be epic. 

I just wish James, my twin brother, could be here. And Emma Jean, my sister. And their families. And Jan & Willie. Shannon, Ces, Pat, Cliff, Julie, Dave, Roni... OK, I'm not leaving out more than 100 people, so I feel pretty good about that. 

Last night another couple of friends from Kentucky showed up in London (what are the odds of that?) and trekked out to Uxbridge for the evening. Ross and Danby are on their way to a conference for computer programmers in Reading, north of here. Ross is one of the main presenters, speaking about Unicode. Don't ask, just be thankful you don't need to know what Unicode is. Ross created a page layout application called PageHand (he's since sold it to another developer) and he has a free Solitaire app, Eight Off, available on the iTunes App Store. Both Ross and Danby are involved in all aspects of theater work in Kentucky: acting, directing, vintage dancing, sound design, and heaven knows what else.

Ross and Danby have been a big part of fabulous Robert Burns Dinners in the past, a couple of which Robin and had the extreme pleasure of attending. If you haven't seen Ross recite Robert the Bruce's March to Bannockburn, or Danby recite Ode to a Haggis, you missed some grand and inspirational performances. 

A reunion toast with Ross and Danby at The Metropolitan pub.

Today was class-day for Robin at Brunel University. There's always something happening on the main mall of the campus, such as above. I was scared to ask what this is about. I just know that it sooo does not remind me of Louisiana College, the Southern Baptist college that Jamie and I attended.

Robin and I stopped by a student exhibit of projects by PhD students. This is Sara from Iran. Her project is about investigating Friedreich's Ataxia (FRDA) molecular disease mechanisms. Shakespeare probably studied that in the Stratford grammar school. Heck, he probably taught it. He was a genius, you know.

An employee of the Mary Sidney Society, UK office, works late into the night.

Before & After Ealing

Random photos on the way to Ealing and on the way back.

Leaving for the Tube station, Robin comforts our occasional cat, after I had to shove her out the window. Just to be clear, I shoved the cat out the window, not Robin.

Parked in front of The Queens Head pub in Uxbridge: Super-cool graphics on the hood of a Mini Cooper.

Even cooler graphics on the side of the Mini Cooper.

 Waiting for the train doors to close in Uxbridge.  

From my new fine art series, Tube Shoes.

More Tube shoes. It's less invasive than pointing the camera at someone's face.

When we arrive back in Uxbridge, the walk home takes us past the place where trains sleep. 

Speaking of trains, I read that train employees are going to be given substantial bonuses just for showing up for work during the Olympics this summer. Watching the Olympic games from Santa Fe sounds better all the time. 

An Ealing Evening

It was really an Ealing afternoon, but alliteration sounds so much better in a headline.

Jon Moon, with whom we had coffee and a nice visit back in February (see the February 13 posting) invited us to his home in Ealing for a visit. Ealing is just a 30-minute train ride from Uxbridge, then it's a ten-minute walk to Jon's house from the Ealing train station.

We had a wonderful visit with Jon and his wife, Joan. We also got to meet his two sons, Christopher and Conner. And we were totally entertained by Oslo, a four-month old Norwegian Elkhound puppy who has mastered the art of being adorable. 

Oslo loves company. Jon is holding her back because she so wants to share the love.

Are all Norwegians this friendly?

The walk from the train station to Jon's house takes us across Ealing Common, a large public park area. 

Daffodils in Ealing Common on a beautiful Spring-like day.