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Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Killaloe. Birthday Killalooty!
29th Birthday started off in Dingle, ended in Killaloe, home of Grandpa Kealy. This is what happened...
B&B breakfast is lovely.
Headed 2 and a half hours East to Clare/Tipperary.
Drove through Obama land. No joke. Apparently, one of his very distant relatives came from some po-dunk town in the middle of nowhere Ireland, and he decided to visit it, so they painted all of the houses, made an Obama coffee shop, put up American flags and Obama billboards, and welcomed the U.S. president. Crazy. Maybe one day, Woodlawn will become Jamie-Land.
Anyway, we arrived on the border of County Clare and County Tipperary. Ballina and Killaloe are kind of like twin towns, one is on one side of the river Shannon, the other, across the bridge. Gorgeous Catholic church from 10th-12th century (depending on where you read about it), which is pretty cool, because that means Grandpa Kealy probablyjavascript:void(0) went there. Had a lovely lunch at the bistro in Killaloe, then headed to the Ballina side to check into the Lakeland House B&B. It rained, it was sunny, it rained, it hailed, it was sunny, it hailed, it rained, it was sunny, it rained, sunny, rain, sunny, rain, sunny... the entire day. And I thought Boston weather was unpredictable!
We walked around for a bit, then drove through the country side along the river just to see if we could find a Kealy farm. No dice, but gorgeous ride with rolling hills set against the river. We did some P90X Yoga for an hour and a half and later, had a wonderful birthday dinner at Flanigans Steak House, and went to Goosers for a night cap. Brad had had Trudy, our B&B host, bake me a birthday cake to surprise me when we checked in, so I got to blow out a candle and have an absolutely delicious death by chocolate cake. Then, we watched some Irish guy on TV who went to America to wrestle alligators in Colorado. Is that what they think we do? Ha.
This morning, woke up at 7, did some Core Synergistics for an hour, and now we're about to indulge ourselves in our first Irish breakfast (wish us luck with black and white pudding... Eh, don't tell me what it is until after. At least it's not blood pudding, right? Ok. I ate it. I'm updating this entry, and oh rats. It is blood pudding. I only had a few bites. I had suspicions. The white pudding was good, though!) Then, we're headed back west toward Doolin, Cliffs of Moher, and Aran Islands where we'll be for 2 nights. Very exciting.
To Doolin! (Where I hope the food is better than its Spring Lake counterpart's.)
B&B breakfast is lovely.
Headed 2 and a half hours East to Clare/Tipperary.
Drove through Obama land. No joke. Apparently, one of his very distant relatives came from some po-dunk town in the middle of nowhere Ireland, and he decided to visit it, so they painted all of the houses, made an Obama coffee shop, put up American flags and Obama billboards, and welcomed the U.S. president. Crazy. Maybe one day, Woodlawn will become Jamie-Land.
Anyway, we arrived on the border of County Clare and County Tipperary. Ballina and Killaloe are kind of like twin towns, one is on one side of the river Shannon, the other, across the bridge. Gorgeous Catholic church from 10th-12th century (depending on where you read about it), which is pretty cool, because that means Grandpa Kealy probablyjavascript:void(0) went there. Had a lovely lunch at the bistro in Killaloe, then headed to the Ballina side to check into the Lakeland House B&B. It rained, it was sunny, it rained, it hailed, it was sunny, it hailed, it rained, it was sunny, it rained, sunny, rain, sunny, rain, sunny... the entire day. And I thought Boston weather was unpredictable!
We walked around for a bit, then drove through the country side along the river just to see if we could find a Kealy farm. No dice, but gorgeous ride with rolling hills set against the river. We did some P90X Yoga for an hour and a half and later, had a wonderful birthday dinner at Flanigans Steak House, and went to Goosers for a night cap. Brad had had Trudy, our B&B host, bake me a birthday cake to surprise me when we checked in, so I got to blow out a candle and have an absolutely delicious death by chocolate cake. Then, we watched some Irish guy on TV who went to America to wrestle alligators in Colorado. Is that what they think we do? Ha.
This morning, woke up at 7, did some Core Synergistics for an hour, and now we're about to indulge ourselves in our first Irish breakfast (wish us luck with black and white pudding... Eh, don't tell me what it is until after. At least it's not blood pudding, right? Ok. I ate it. I'm updating this entry, and oh rats. It is blood pudding. I only had a few bites. I had suspicions. The white pudding was good, though!) Then, we're headed back west toward Doolin, Cliffs of Moher, and Aran Islands where we'll be for 2 nights. Very exciting.
To Doolin! (Where I hope the food is better than its Spring Lake counterpart's.)
Monday, April 9, 2012
Dingle Dingle Dingle
So, it's my birthday. And I smell like roses. From this amazing body lotion at this ridiculously gorgeous bed and breakfast that overlooks the Dingle Bay and harbor. Uhmm, yes please? Can every birthday be this good? I've been pretty fortunate with my birthdays, I'm not going to lie. I'm not the out and about pub girl, and I'm not a huge fan of birthday parties... for some reason crowds of friends who are there just for me make me anxious (hence why I don't want a wedding!) And yes, I know that's insane. Thank you.
So for me, this is paradise. A cute B & B, Irish rain and mist, and a trip to my great grandfather's home town on the agenda.
Last night, we drove the entire Dingle Peninsula loop which was rocky cliff, Atlantic Ocean beauty, we bought Irish wool sweaters (Thanks Beeb!) and had Easter dinner at Fentons. And no, we did not have a 3rd growth 96 Bordeaux, but it was lovely nonetheless. Then, after a tasty morsel, we went to the Dingle Pub, where Brad confirmed that yes, crazy Irish people do know Woodlawn. We met a guy that had gone to Woodlawn, and his friends all had friends that live there. Brad didn't even have to say New York, or America. Just Woodlawn.
There was also this crazy American kid, in a pink shirt (obviously), who rented Irish friends. Uhmm, yeah. Reminded me of BC. Apparently, he's pretty wealthy, and had used some website called rent-a-friend (some of the girls were wearing T-shirts) because he wanted the "Irish experience." 5 girls and 2 guys. And he pays for their accommodations and travel; they pay their food and drink. The girl was telling me that it was a business school project, and to check it out on facebook (which I don't have), and that it's a great deal for them. The bartender wasn't hiding the fact that he thought the whole thing was nuts. So... do rich Irish people want to rent me for the Hamptons? Just saying.
I re-confirmed that Smithwicks tastes better in Ireland, had my first official Guinness pint, and also got to recollect happy study abroad days with a pint of Bulmers. Then, it was my birthday! Headed home, found a tasty morsel of cake waiting for us because our Pax House B&B owner was afraid that we never woke up from our power nap. Birthday cake! Yay!
As I write this, the fog has rolled in. I can barely see the mountainous landscape in the distance. So peaceful.
Headed to Clare. Might try and get some P90X Yoga in if possible. Might be relaxing.
So for me, this is paradise. A cute B & B, Irish rain and mist, and a trip to my great grandfather's home town on the agenda.
Last night, we drove the entire Dingle Peninsula loop which was rocky cliff, Atlantic Ocean beauty, we bought Irish wool sweaters (Thanks Beeb!) and had Easter dinner at Fentons. And no, we did not have a 3rd growth 96 Bordeaux, but it was lovely nonetheless. Then, after a tasty morsel, we went to the Dingle Pub, where Brad confirmed that yes, crazy Irish people do know Woodlawn. We met a guy that had gone to Woodlawn, and his friends all had friends that live there. Brad didn't even have to say New York, or America. Just Woodlawn.
There was also this crazy American kid, in a pink shirt (obviously), who rented Irish friends. Uhmm, yeah. Reminded me of BC. Apparently, he's pretty wealthy, and had used some website called rent-a-friend (some of the girls were wearing T-shirts) because he wanted the "Irish experience." 5 girls and 2 guys. And he pays for their accommodations and travel; they pay their food and drink. The girl was telling me that it was a business school project, and to check it out on facebook (which I don't have), and that it's a great deal for them. The bartender wasn't hiding the fact that he thought the whole thing was nuts. So... do rich Irish people want to rent me for the Hamptons? Just saying.
I re-confirmed that Smithwicks tastes better in Ireland, had my first official Guinness pint, and also got to recollect happy study abroad days with a pint of Bulmers. Then, it was my birthday! Headed home, found a tasty morsel of cake waiting for us because our Pax House B&B owner was afraid that we never woke up from our power nap. Birthday cake! Yay!
As I write this, the fog has rolled in. I can barely see the mountainous landscape in the distance. So peaceful.
Headed to Clare. Might try and get some P90X Yoga in if possible. Might be relaxing.
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