London, episode 13. In which we are left to drive.

Mari and I have both always wanted to visit Ireland. Hard to pinpoint exactly, but there was probably something about the Fighting Irish involved, I'm sure.

This is one of my favorite travel photos, for obvious reasons, but also because I'm wearing a favorite shirt. I recently forced myself to retire the L.L.Bean "classic" because it was getting to be too much of a favorite (it kept showing up in all my travel photos), so you probably won't see it again until I've decided to reintroduce it into my wardrobe as "vintage" (perhaps during a return trip to the Emerald Isle).

After our first ever weekend visit to the Paris fleamarket, we headed to Ireland with our newly-acquired secondhand goodies in tow, but unbeknownst to us, sans Mari's suitcase. Not to worry, it would be delivered to our B&B in Galway two days later, just in time for our drive back to Dublin.

Cannot recommend Galway's The Herons Rest highly enough!

theheronsrest.com

As a result of the luggage delay, Mari and I have started sharing suitcases. We still travel with two suitcases, but each packs half of our clothing in both. That way if a bag is lost or delayed, we both still have clothing to wear. In Mari's case, a few souvenir T-shirts found their way into her wardrobe that weekend.

We are also prepared with what we have come to refer to as our "emergency underwear" which is the first thing we stuff into our carry-on backpacks, just in case both suitcases are sent adrift.

Our first full day in Ireland consisted of a leisurely drive along a mostly coastal "highway" from Galway (our stomping ground of choice for two of our three nights in Ireland after much research and a little debate) to the Cliffs of Moher. My favorite shirt made its first appearance above at Oranmore Castle.

Over six centuries old, the postcard-picturesque castle is worth more than a quick stop.

oranmorecastle.com


We were just driving along, no particular plan, saw a castle off in the distance, and pulled over onto a field. That's pretty much how that first day in Ireland went. No map, no reservations, just a sunny day, wonderful wife, and a shoulderless two-lane highway that ambled along jagged coasts, grassy sheep farms, and the occasional slightly-urban stronghold where we had to slow down and yield at roundabouts. Luckily, I had the first few of those to myself so I could figure out my left from my right and get my circular bearings under control.


We found ourselves at the breathtaking (see the next three photos above) Cliffs of Moher a leisurely three hours after our magnificent Irish breakfast at The Herons Rest just 50 miles away.

Next day, Mari snapped that goofy photo of me as I tried to keep my eyes open against the steady drizzle on the Aran island of Inishmore where my sensible shoes proved not ready for slippery ancient stones.

Among the many Dublin sites we managed to cram into a touristy walking tour on our final Irish day was a visit to Trinity College and tour of the library (yeah!) during which I was able to have a moment with the amazing Book of Kells. I am still in awe at the colorful beauty and amazing craftsmanship on display therein (have always wanted to sneak that one into use). Somehow, I had found an online coupon, years before our trip, for a free item from the gift shop at the Trinity College library.  You know me and coupons.  It came along, printed, in my carefully curated clear travel folder even though I had no definite plans to visit the Trinity College library.

When we found ourselves with a few free hours in Dublin on our final day, we uttered a breathless "why not" to each other and I eventually pulled out my coupon at the gift shop and received a beautiful facsimile poster of one of the illuminated pages. I love looking at it every morning when I walk into my office (too many guards around the actual Book for me to actually look at the real thing every morning).

Meanwhile, our Olympics activity went from the grace and athletic ability of gymnastics to the strength, endurance, and (yes) grace of weightlifting. I don't usually watch weightlifting events, but wanting a well-rounded Olympics experience, I was excited at the opportunity to attend the finals in the Men's +105kg (heavyweight) weightlifting competition.

Mari and I certainly expected demonstrations of (far from Festivus) feats of strength and very strong competition (in every sense of the word), especially in this weight class, but what we did not expect was the very emotional and supportive atmosphere both among the athletes and the assembled (very R-O-W-D-I-E) fervently frenzied fans.

I was amazed to witness not only seemingly supernatural physical strength, but the strength of character and sportsmanship that came through even more than physical strength (especially when one of the favorites was eliminated as the result of a particularly gruesome injury).  When the medalists were ultimately decided, the crowd absolutely roared with support and (a little too much) enthusiasm for Team Iran which finished with both gold and silver. Mari and I were (more than) slightly overwhelmed by a hoard of uber-enthusiastic fans who had a difficult time containing their excitement during the medal ceremony.

I get my (metaphoric) kilt on next time and we witness a Bolt of lightning at Olympic Stadium.