Day Two
"Storming the Castle and Discovering Cleveland"
"Drive on the left, Americans! Yes, Americans, this means you!!"
So after, like, 14 hours of sleep, we were up at the crack o' dawn (see what I did there? Irish humor!) and over our jetlag. While we got ourselves ready, we turned on more news. More SKY News coverage. Really interesting getting the British perspective on the war, as much of it was focused on what the British troops were doing. There were a whole lot of them there, more than I guessed people back in America were hearing about. Russ and I both enjoyed the highly informative (not talking down to the audience) coverage and deadpan British delivery and analysis. But soon we were downstairs checking out. The girl behind the counter let us know that it was probably a good thing we were getting out of Dublin, as things were going to be crazy downtown with the big scheduled anti-war protest rally. But I'd also heard on the news that the rally was to be toned down considerably in consideration of the men and women over in Irag fighting. Nice thought, I thought.
So we loaded up the Fiat and headed north. We'd decided that before leaving the Dublin area, we might as well hit Newgrange, a cool-sounding archeological site that Russ had read about in one of his Ireland books. We stopped at a gas station for a better map, and found our way though small winding roads to the site. Problem was, we were up too early. You start at the visitors center, and the sign let us know it wouldn't open for about an hour and a half. Oh, well. We took the time to drive around and take in the countryside for a while, then headed back and had a cigar in the picnic area near the parking lot (stinky Americans inna house).
Some of the countryside near Newgrange
We went though the door at opening time, around 9:30 a.m. We saw a group of people up at the main desk and assumed it was a group of tourists waiting to go. Turned it out was all staff. We were the first ones there. The staff was very friendly, and pointed out that you take a shuttle out to the site. They called ahead and made sure they'd bring the one with the wheelchair lift on it. Let me note here that this is NOT a very wheelchair friendly country (as I expect is the same with most of Europe), so this was a nice bonus. While we waited, we sat through the audio/visual show detailing Newgrange and its history, and we also got to walk through the site recreation they'd built inside the center...which was nice, since I wouldn't be able to get into the actual site with the wheelchair. After we got out, a few more people joined us. With them, we took the short walk to the shuttle bus pickup location and loaded up for the five minute drive. Looked like a pretty well-mixed international group of tourists. The most notable of our group were a couple of GORGEOUS British girls. I was afraid to find out how old they were, though, and thankfully, I didn't (man, we're getting old).
We got dropped off at the site and Russ got a workout pushing me up the big gravel walkway to the site. Newgrange, as it's called, is a restored Neolithic tomb. Basically, it's a big burial mound, but it has much more interest to it. It's older than either Stonehenge or the pyramids at Giza, at around 5000 years old. It's a cool site because you can actually walk inside of it (emphasis on walk, not roll...) and check out both the stone carvings from a people that we frankly know nothing about, and some graffiti added in from centuries ago (nice to know there were taggers in times past as well). What makes it exceptionally cool is that the tomb is set up to allow sunlight in only one day a year...exactly on the winter solstice. As the son rose, a ray of light would creep slowly down the 60-foot long passageway, and the center would be lit for 17 minutes. Then the ray would creep back out, perhaps carrying the souls of those buried here to the afterlife. Hey, it could happen...
Me in front of the entrance to Newgrange
While Russ checked out the interior (which they don't let you photograph, so he didn't take the video camera), I hung out outside and took some shots, and took in my first really impressive view of the Irish countryside. It was a perfect morning for it, with a light mist of fog all around slowly lifting as the sun grew higher. We hung out around there taking pics and video until our bus came back. Then we stopped back at the visitors center's nice cafe for some lunch and to plan our next move. As I said...we planned nothing in advance. We checked the possibilities heading south, and came to a decision that Killarney would be our goal for the night's accommodations. We'd heard good things about the town from a couple of sources. Along the way, it looked like there was a pretty cool-looking castle...the Rock of Cashel. So that was to be our next stop on the way to Killarney.
So after a long scenic drive along N8, passing through many small towns and listening to a lot of Irish talk radio and music (surreal moment of the day...driving through the Irish countryside listening to America's "Ventura Highway"), we spotted the castle we were looking for. The Rock of Cashel. While Russ had seen many of these throughout Wales, this was my first castle, and I knew for sure that I was in Europe. Cashel is a very impressive site. More so because I could actually get around in it; Russ went up and checked with someone, who let us in the back gate that allowed me access to the grounds without all the pesky stairs. Looking up at your first castle is quite an experience. We got a lot of good shots there. And the day couldn't have been more perfect. Did I mention the weather? Seriously, the weather was major national news while we were there. I fully expected to be rained on for a week when traveling to Ireland in March, but much of our trip ended up sunny. Today was one of those days, beautiful and perfect. With the castle being high up on a hill, the sight of the surrounding countyside in County Tipperary was nothing less than inspiring. I spent a lot of time staring at it, just breathing in the crisp air.
Russ and I in front of the Rock of Cashel
Most of the castle still stands, and from the 5th century on it was the seat of the Kings of Munster, whose kingdom extended over much of southern Ireland. In 1101 they handed it over to the church (what do you mean "what church"? This is Ireland!), and it flourished as a religious center until the siege by Cromwell in 1647. It was finally abandoned somewhere in the 18th century. It's a beautiful mass of stone, filled with roman arches and vast ceilings. The first thing every American is taken by when traveling to Europe, I think, is that sense of history that we just don't have here. Touching a stone wall that was built hundreds of years ago is pretty humbling. We cruised around inside for a while, then moved around the back to check out the cemetery there. There were many old stone crosses, the inscriptions of the ones I read (the ones you could still make out) showing the many people were buried here in the early to mid 20th century. We also decided to sit in on the audio/visual show to learn a little history.
Me looking out from the cemetery at Cashel over the plains of Tipperary
After this, it was a good long drive south and west to reach Killarney, which we did as the sun was going down. We found out quick that Killarney is a very popular tourist town, dense with people. Russ ran into a couple of hotels to check out prices and accessibility, but after all that driving, we really didn't feel like spending the evening hunting for the best price. We decided we'd treat ourselves a little, and got set up at a four star hotel called the Killarney Plaza Hotel. Pretty posh place. I got us checked in while Russ found a place to park, and we headed up. Russ grabbed us a couple of pints down at the bar and brought them up, and we relaxed a little and caught up on some war news. Then we hit the streets, looking for a place for dinner and some company. We found out something else quick about Killarney...it was full of Americans. At first we just thought it was our hotel (as Americans do like their four star places), but Americans were everywhere. I started calling the town New Cleveland. There were restaurants catering to Americans, one called "Mustang Sally's" with the letters of the sign done up in an American flag motif. We found a place whose name escapes me that was pretty crowded, and got some fine food and more pints. I think we talked to one non-American local there, who was older and pretty sauced, so I couldn't make out many of his comments, except the ones where he was agreeing with Russ on the quality of a group of hot girls that walked by us. We ended up back in our hotel bar for a last couple of pints for the night, a classy place with fine and rather high-tech player piano, a Russian bartender, and, you guessed it, a lot of Americans, mostly older. After this, it was off to crash and plan out the next day's travel. We were sure of one thing already...we wanted more Ireland and less Cleveland.
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