A Jingle from Dingle

An Daingean Peninsula must be one of the most beautiful places on the earth. The bus ride in was so Irish, with massive fields of sheep and cows all over the mountains, all right on the coast of the Atlantic. Dingle town itself was cute It had all the typical Irish looking shops, but unlike Galway, it felt like fishing and farming really did fuel the economy, not just hordes of tourists. The town centered around a harbour, which also happen to be the home of Ireland's most friendly dolphin, Fungi. Apparently in 1984 Fungi adopted Dingle as his home town (The way Bennet the Cat adopted us). In his younger years he would jump over small zodiacs and fishing boats and play with local fisherman and scuba divers. In his old age, although still active, he more swims beside and jumps alongside boats, as opposed to over them.

The really impressive part of Dingle was the surrounding peninsula. Our B&B host (who baked delicious homemade bread, pies, cakes and museli (muselage, as Gramma calls it.)) called and set us up with a private tour of the peninsula for a group-rate price.

Now, instead of boring you with more description about how incredible the most Western tip of Europe is (plus I'm running out of adjectives), I will let the pictures do the talking and tell you some interesting facts about Ireland (ps. the tour guide said that I was very lucky to be able to actually get out of the tour bus and no be blown away by the coastal winds). But don't fret, my avid fans: I would have risked it for these pictures, regardless of the threat on my life. So, anyways, when Ireland joined the EU, it was one of the poorest countries, but as promised, the other EU countries helped build it up to is luxurious position today. Unfortunately, payback time had come, and many Irish aren't pleased about the cost. For example, Ireland has experienced a huge wave of Polish immigration since Poland recently joined the EU, and since the minimum wage in Ireland is almost 3 times as much as it is back home , many Polish people are making the obvious choice and are either moving to Ireland, or at least working here for the summer. It just so happens that we met a Polish student in Dingle who had been working in Limerick for the summer, who confirmed that she didn't end up have to speak any english at all in Ireland, as the Polish community is so large. During the famine, Ireland lost almost 4 million people. We toured a famine village in Connemara that had ruins of the tiny stone houses with very few windows. The more windows your house had, the more taxes you would pay! When Ireland was ruled by the British and there was no work in the small communities, people would get paid to build walls out of stones piled on each other. The walls did not divide anything, and served no purpose other than to provide work (the British gov't didn't believe in handouts). A final intersting fact is that it pays to have a thatch roof. The Irish gov't actually gives out grants for people to maintain and install thatched roofs!


Tides. Tides are so cool. I think this because yesterday I got to walk on the ocean floor when the tide was out. They actually had steps down the cliff! There were underwater plants growing on the rocks and little fish who got stuck in puddles and missed the ride out. We were standing at the tip of Dingle Bay looking out at the Atlantic, watching Fungi having fun with the fishing boats, about 20 ft under water! (Well, if it were about 5 hours later!) We took some great 'water crashing on rocks' pictures, talked to some fishermen fishing for sting ray, snuck through cow fields and hopped some fences. After all this adventure, the only logical thing to do, was to enjoy some good old live trad. Irish music. So we did. Then we walked the 5 minutes across town (yes, thats all the way across) back to our B&B, which btw, our rooms were about 20 ft from the Atlantic with a great view, and slept with the ocean breeze on our faces. (because I insisted the windows be left open!). Dingle is now tied with Northern Northern Ireland for most beautiful places on our trip thus far,in case you were keeping track.

A note about sheep. I would like to take this opportunity to express my love for sheep. They are just so entertaining! If they aren't trying to escape their huge lots (where would they go anyways?) or narrowly diving out of the way of on-coming tour buses, or being chased by tourists (ahem, Jonathan), they really are just little fluffy and unaware entertainers. I think I am going to get a pet sheep when I come home. Just think about it Dad: you would never have to cut the grass again!


ps. sorry if the title of this entry misled you. I don't actually have a 'jingle from dingle'. Gramma, however, will be home Saturday and will be more than willing to lead a round of 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling'.

pps. if interested in an exact ply by play of Ireland 2006, Gramma has recorded every detail right down to the fresh squeezed orange juice we had for breakfast this morning, for everyone's reading pleasure. Just another example of why she is the cutest Gramma in all of Ireland (and Canada).

ppps. SARAH, we said 'hi' to Fungi for you! He wants to see you back on the Emerald Island soon.

A Typical Day in Ireland?

Our time in Galway was building up to an Irish Medieval Banquet, in the style of Oh Canada Eh?! Dinner Show, which was held several town over at Dungire Castle. We booked tickets in advance and, the day before, double checked which bus we needed to take to Dunguire. It left at 200. We double checked. Our plan was as follows: We would arrive at 145 for our 200 bus to Kinvara, the city that boasts Dunguire. It would arrive at approximately 230 in Kinvara, which would leave us 3 hours to enjoy the quaint town and tour the castle before the 530 banquet. Our day was perfectly planned; nothing could go wrong.

Now fast forward to the day of the banquet.

Although the bus people had told us which bus wee needed twice already, we triple checked at 1100am that morning.

"There is no 200 bus to Kinvara," the bus laady said, "the only bus going there leaves at 600 tonight."

We now had a 530 banquet and a 600 bus that would get in half way through our dinner show. Our hopes and dreams were shattered, and, one of us became moody and cranky.

It was looking dim: the closest town to kinvara we could get to could have still left us with a 4 hour walk to the castle. What were we going to do? Hitch-hike (with Gramma), of course! So we hopped on a bus going in the general direcion of Kinvara and started into uncharted territory (for us, anyway). I started chatting with the Irish lad next to me on the bus and learned Kilcolgan, the town the bus would leave us in, is a one-horse town: 3 stores, no gas station, no taxis, population about 200 (including sheep).

Unbeknowst to us, our conversation sparked the interest of a lady sitting a seat beyond. She made her way into the conversation. Whe was a tri-lingual Irish high-school teacher, was married to a man from Italy, had 2 girls, and was a traveller herself. She said her car was in Gort, a stop 30 minutes past our Kilcolgan stop. If I could convice the bus driver to let us stay on, she would drive us to Kinvara! I convinced him (with no extra charge!) and we were off to Gort.

It was a beautiful town full of beautiful people, much like our new-found friend/chauffeur, Pauline. Pauline didn't just drive us to Kinvara, she gave us our own private 1 hour tour of her region, the Burren, and told us the history and legends surrounding it. The Burren, we learned, has no dirt to bury a man, no tree to hang him, and no water to drown him; a unique landscape for sure! We are very thankful for her.

Until 530 we sight-seed (sight-sawed?).

The banquet was worth every penny! The actors/servers certainly knew how to entertain; and the cooks certainly knew how to cook! We ate like the 'Lords' and 'Ladies' we were that night. In the photo, if you see any looks of fear or pain on the faces of the banquet guest, it was probably because I had just finished serenading them with my rendition of Mull of Kintyre on stage. When the banquet,, filled with Irish culture, literature, and music, finished, we thought our night would start winding down.

Again we were wrong.

Half-way back to Galway, our bus driver picked up rowdy Irish boys, with beers in hand, from the Annual Oyster-Fest. They sloppily staggered to the back of the bus where our trio sat. Gramma soon became the apple of their eyes. We traded stories and accents and all were merry. At the back of the bus there were 5 steep steps leading down to an emergency exit. That staircase was out with a vengence that night: it claimed 2 Irish boys. One second they were in front of us, the next second: gone. They laid crumpled at the bottom of the stairs while their remaining pints of Guinness found a new home at the top of the stairs, sprayed across the windows. That was the grand conclusion to a rather eventful day in Ireland.

We have learned to expect the un expected when travelling Europe. Only now, we look forward to it.

ps. After that last photo was taken I was immediately informed that, apparently, it is very uncool to give the peace sign while having your picture taken. I will try not to make that same mistake again.

The Wild West (of Ireland)

I am going to say two things that I NEVER thought I would say. Brace yourselves.
#1. We have met some very nice Americans
#2. I have a problem: I take too many pictures. (although you wouldn't know it with the measley amount I am allowed to post)

This has to be quick... we are being kicked out of Dingle's cute little Gaelic library in 24 minutes.
We will start with Galway... at first I (Kristen) HATED Galway. I figured that if I had wanted to spend a weekend in a touristy, overpriced town, I should have just stayed in Niagara Falls. However, as Jonathan Buchanan Mooney predicted, within a few hours, I had been won over. Let me tell you about the incredible day that won me over. It started normally. It was Saturday morning, and we had planned, after going to the local market and seeing the Galway Cathedral, to take the 2pm bus out to Kinvara for a Medieval Banquet. Upon arriving at the bus station however, at 11am, just to confirm our bus our (although we had already done so the day before as well). To our horror, we discovered that, in fact, the bus did not leave at 2pm, and that the next one didn't leave until 6pm. Since the banquet started at 5:30, we took the more adventurous option... we hopped on the the next available bus to the closest possible town. A town, that we we told, had no bus services, no taxi, and was about 10km from Kinvara. We were assured by locals that hitchhiking was a safe and almost reliable way to get to Kinvara. With Gramma in tow, and ready for an adventure, we set out to Kilcolgan. On the way, Jonathan started chatting up a local Galway-ian sitting beside him. After the young boy got off the bus, the woman across the asile began talking to us. She was very friendly, and right before our stop, she offered to drive us to Kinvara herself, if we kept on the bus a little longer to her town! It was incredible! Not only did she go out of her way giving us a presonal narrated tour of the Burren (a really cool rocky region south of Galway) but she then dropped us off right in the harbour of Kinvara, across from the castle. Someone is definitely watching over us. Corny, I know.


The banquet was awesome! Gramma got to hear some of her favourite Irish songs, and Jonathan seranaded the ENTIRE crowd with his rendition of "Mull of Kintyre." On the bus ride home, we drove right through a town that was having an oyster fest and a number of very drunk Irish boys got on, pints and all! They loved Gramma Mary! Although none of them believed we were from Canada. That, in part was because Jonthan was talking in this ridiculos "Canadian" accent (think 'hockey hick meets newfoundland meets something definitley NOT Canadian) and also in part because, according the the Irish guy who 'really knows Canada', Niagara Falls, is not actually a city, but a site. I told him that about 80,000 people would probably disagree with him.

Thats Galway, and our 24 minutes. We will post pictures from Dublin, and believe me, they are BEAUTIFUL!!


ps. mom and dad: you don't have to write my personal messages in the blog comments! Just EMAIL me!! We can check our emails! You guys are hilarious!

pps. If my spelling and grammer were not up to par, sorry. You try typing with someone yipping over your shoulder. No names.


Wish you were here .. with us and Fungie (the dolphin!)

Northern Northern Ireland

I am sad to announce that this is our last post from Aunt Eileen and Uncle Trevor's house. Aunt Eileen was nice enough to drive us all over the northern coast today. We saw places we meant to see and a few that we didn't, all which were equally as interesting. I don't think that I have ever travelled so well! With who else, and where else for that matter, would you get hot tea, hours after leaving the house, from a thermos, sitting on the side of a road somewhere between Belfast and Ballymoney? Only with Aunt Eileen in Northern Ireland, and it was wonderful!

Some of the highlights of today are shown in the pictures. We visited Northern Ireland's most touristed site, The Giant's Causeway. Geologists tell the fable that this peculiar rock formation formed by volcanic eruptions and the cooling lava. In actual fact, its origins can be traced back to the handy work of the 52 ft giant, Finn McCool. Just a few miles down the road, we also stopped to brave the 65 ft long-100 ft high Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. The scenery didn't let us down. Waves crashed against the cliffs below. The hills sparkled with 40 shades of green and the sea was crystal-clear. Also, despite a possible fear of heights, I have down-graded the fear factor of walking across a rope bridge high in the air from 'extreme' to 'less-extreme'; it has been bumped by 'walking across a rope bride high in the air during high winds.' We survived, though, and enjoyed every minute of our last day in Northern Ireland. I must also mention that, with Pappy and David, we visited Nanny in the hospital. Day by day, Nanny is progressing. Please keep her in your prayers.

It is almost midnight here in Belfast and we are catching the 8am train in the morning to Galway (it's unfortunately a little more involved than it sounds). So, I am just going to post some pictures and hit the hay, or "boogie the chiwawa" as Jon's grandparents used to say when they were missionaries in Nigeria years back. (Or so I learned last night) Northern Ireland has been great to us, even though we were rained on quite a bit today. In Ireland though, the rain seems to compliment the scenery, as opposed to distract from it. ps. Thanks for all the comments! We love reading them!

A Post from the Better Half

Hello from Northern Ireland!

Now, it may seem a bit weird that I am saying hello now, as we have already posted numerous times since landing yesterday... was it only yesterday? Anyways, it's because this is the first time I (Kristen) have been allowed to write something! And, for the record, I did not give Jonathan permission, nor was I even aware that he had posted about the tragic mishap involving the crocodile Hunter. Seriously, Jonathan, we are in Ireland, not Australia! One trip at a time!

So, to answer the question, mom, Gramma is just great! We dragged her all over the city of Belfast today. I have even included a picture (much to her dismay) just to prove that she is indeed, after 75 years of anticipation, in Ireland! We went on a City Tour of Belfast today, through both the Catholic and Protestant areas. It was interesting to see the peace divides, which are literally walls between people's backyards, as far as 70 feet high in some areas. The people on the one side of the divide don't even know what their neighbours look like! Thankfully though, the city is peaceful as of late and many people are working towards turning the once bomb ridden areas into heritage places. The area where the Titanic was built for example. The people of Belfast maintain that the Titanic should still hold the title of "unsinkable." When it left Belfast, it was unsinkable, and in their opinion, it isn't the Belfast engineer's fault that a Scottish captain ran it into a Nova Scotian iceberg! lol Just a little tidbit of information: As of a year or so ago, Belfast had no public restrooms. Apparently most were underground, and therefore perfect places to hide bombs! Imagine there being no public restrooms in Niagara Falls? What would the tourists do?

Anyways, we also took a tour of city hall, went to Queen's University and the Botanic Gardens. We met the most honest homeless man along the way too, who's sign read "Money to buy Booze." Hey, atleast Irish homeless people don't try to fool anyone! Aunt Eileen was nice enough to drop us in the city centre and then come back again a few hours later and pick us up. We are really greatful for her and Uncle Trevor. After dinner we went with Jonathan's Grandpa and Aunt Eileen to the hospital to visit Jonathan's Grandma. It was great to see them again, and we had a lovely visit. Tomorrow its off to Northern Northern Ireland to the Giants Causeway!

Now, lets take a vote:
Would you, our loyal readers, like to see pictures of the places we are (only the best shots, of course), or would you rather just see pictures of people?

And, just for another record, we are only posting so often because we are staying at Aunt Eileens and Uncle Trevor's, who happen to be very generous with their internet. Out of their care, I can make no such promises! Here is the ONLY picture I was given permission by King Jonathan to post. Isn't Gramma cute?!

Ireland 2006: It Has Officially Begun

We have de-planed our first transatlantic flight in 2006 for the second and last time. Do you know what that means? We're in Ireland! Belfast to be exact. After two hours on the airplane they made us get off. Luckily, we weren't 13,000 feet in the air at that point; we were still safely on the ground, at the airport, well behind schedule. A radio needed to be repaired. Apart from that inconvenience, our flight was fine. The inflight movies, so I have been told, were Jack Black's Nacho Libre and the animated Over the Hedge. I slept...and possibly snored. Upon landing, we shuffled up to Customs and informed the fellow that we were leaving, with certainty, on 4 January 2007. Now we are not so certain. Since then we have learned that Ireland has no (NO) mosquitos, making the prospect of staying indefinitely ever more enticing.

Aunt Eileen picked us up from the airport. We spotted each other quickly as she had already wrestled her way to the front of the waiting-crowd. I love visiting with my family here. They have already made us feel at home in Ireland.

I best rest now to be prepared for Irish sightseeing tomorrow. We hope for a bit o' Blarney. Then again, we are here: maybe we already have it.