Surprised by Kylemore Abbey

Leaving County Clare was not easy. Seeing the beauty of the Cliffs of Moher and the phenomenal wildlife coupled with the raw beauty of the coast made it difficult to believe that Ireland could continue to amaze me in more intense ways than it already had.

Oh, how little did I understand Ireland.

As we drove north toward Ballina (County Mayo), we passed through some beautiful landscapes.

We stopped for lunch in Gallway, which I wasn’t very impressed with at the time. I described it in my journal as being “like most cities” with “chain restaurants with their own parking lots.” I’m sorry, Galway! My more recent trip hit me very differently and I enjoyed the scenery very much. However, as an 18 year old in 1997, I found Galway to be very tedious.

Excerpt from my journal about Galway

Our weather this day was beautiful – sunny and warm. The sun does just as much for the beauty of Ireland as the rain. The greens in contrasts with the deep blues of lakes in the valleys of hills and mountains dotted with white sheep seems to shine even brighter beneath the clear skies. We drove most of the day, but I didn’t mind because of the beauty of the scenery.

While we were driving we caught sight of something that made us literally stop in our tracks – Kylemore Abbey. We decided to investigate, knowing nothing about this beautiful castle in the middle of nowhere on the edge of a lake. We were surprised to find out that Kylemore Abbey is one of the more famous places in Ireland.

Originally the home of a wealthy family, the castle eventually became the home of nuns who were displaced during World War 1, and they’ve been there ever since. Indiana connection: The have a partnership with the University of Notre Dame (South Bend, Indiana) for their study abroad program!

About a mile up the mountain behind the abbey is a giant statue of Christ with his arms outstretched, as if inviting people to the abbey. Unfortunately we couldn’t go up there because we needed to get to Ballina before dark, so we left fascinated by what we had happened upon.

In Ballina we stayed at Ashley House bed and breakfast which appears to still be operational, though it does not have it’s own website. TripAdvisor has a listing, though with very little information.

The host told us that Ballina was having a festival and that evening was “international night”, so we went into town. The center was blocked off to traffic and different sections were set off as different “countries.” The US section had classic cars from the 50s and a miniature Statue of Liberty. I don’t remember this, but my mother told me that they even had “hotdogs”– but they didn’t taste ANYTHING like actual hotdogs (which is probably a good thing in my opinion). France had an Eiffel Tower and can-can dancers. Germany had an oompah band and copious amounts of lederhosen. It was quite a night!

I checked online and Ballina still has the Salmon Festival– and as of April, it is still planned for the second week of July. Dear Ballina, I hope that you get to have your festival this year because I enjoyed my one night of it!


Other posts in this series:

The Gift that Launched A Thousand Trips

Dublin: love at first sight

Powerscourt: Surprised by Beauty

Glendalough: My First Love

Waterford: More than Crystal

Blarney: Everything but Kissing the Stone

Kenmare and the Ring of Beara

From the Disappointing to the Magnificent

In Shadows and Sunshine

In Shadows and Sunshine

On this leg of the trip, we left Killarney and visited Muckross House, a beautiful stately home in Killarney National Park. The house has been restored to the way it was in the late 1800s when Queen Victoria stayed there. Unfortunately we were not allowed to take pictures inside the house, but we have many pictures of the outside of the house and the beautiful grounds. At the time it remind me of the Breakers (in the US) – not so much in the architecture of the house, but in the grand style of the rooms and the extensive grounds.

Muckross House

View from the house

The gardens

After leaving there, we drove along the coast for a while and having lunch in Dingle (where I had my first “lamburger”) and then took a ferry to cut nearly 100 miles off of our trip as we headed toward the Cliffs of Moher.

Few places are as iconically Irish as the Cliffs of Moher. I have been fortunate to see them multiple times in my journeys to Ireland. Both in the “shadows” — or fog, and the sunshine. My first trip to the cliffs in July of 1997, they were shrouded in fog so dense you could barely make them out.
I was beyond disappointed, to say the least. I’d learned that an infamous scene of my favorite childhood movie, The Princess Bride, was partially based off of the Cliffs of Moher — in the movie they are called the Cliffs of Insanity. Consequently, I was so excited to see them in person. But as you can see from the pictures below, there were barely any cliffs to make out.

It was a rainy day, and the fog was incredibly dense. However, we did walk around a bit and took some pictures with the realization that the trip to the Emerald Isle was going to be hit or miss with fog. I was disappointed, however, that it had descended on that particular day.

Afterward, we drove to our bed and breakfast for the night – Berry Lodge, which (at least as of 2018) is still in operation, according to Trip Advisor. The accommodations were extremely comfortable, and view surrounding the house was stunning and remote.

The women who ran the bed and breakfast were sisters and were incredibly kind! We ate dinner there, and when they found out that this trip was a graduation gift for me (read more about that here if you are new to the blog), they baked me a cake in celebration of my graduation. It was incredibly touching. And though I don’t remember how it tasted, I remember how the women made me feel – loved and appreciated.

My mom, one of the sisters, and me

We told the ladies about our sadness having not truly been able to see the cliffs, and she mentioned that we should try again the next day because “everything could be different of a morning.” Well, we took their advice and went back the next morning, and they were right! The sun had cleared away the fog, and it was a beautiful, sunny, warm day.

We enjoyed walking along the trails (as far from the edge as humanly possible, for me).  Climbing on rocks, and posing for a zillion pictures, we spent a large portion of the day there when the day before we’d only spent a few hours. The biggest surprises for me were that there is almost no barrier between the trail and the cliffs and that it is incredibly windy. There were a few gusts that I worried would push me right over the edge!

My parents went up in one of the observation towers. I, of course, kept my feet firmly planted on the ground and walked around at the base of the tower instead.

As a self-proclaimed anti-touristy person, the cliffs are definitely worth seeing despite the crowds you will encounter. Just be careful on the trails and take care when being “daring.” Especially in today’s “selfie culture,” people often don’t pay close enough attention when attempting to get the perfect shot. I assure you, there are several places that are very safe and offer amazing pictures.

I was at the cliffs roughly a year ago, and I learned so much more about everything the cliffs have to offer, but you’ll have to come back when I do a series on that trip. As a teaser, I did run across a picture of me in 1997 that is in nearly the same spot where one of my co-workers took a picture of me in 2019.


The rest of the blog posts in this series: 

The Gift that Launched A Thousand Trips

Dublin: love at first sight

Powerscourt: Surprised by Beauty

Glendalough: My First Love

Waterford: More than Crystal

Blarney: Everything but Kissing the Stone

Kenmare and the Ring of Beara

From the Disappointing to the Magnificent

 

From the Disappointing to the Magnificent

In recent days the world has seemed to turn upside down, and it has been very steadying to look through wonderful memories of a simpler time when I was in Ireland shortly after graduating high school. So despite the unsettled nature of the world right now, I shall press on in my remembrances.


After leaving the beauty of Kenmare (read more about that here), we headed to Killarney despite the warnings from our host in Kenmare. She told my parents when we were talking about our next stop that Killarney was nothing but “tour busses and plastic leprechauns.” And though I don’t recall seeing any plastic leprechauns while we were there, she was right about the tour busses. However, that was pretty much everywhere in Ireland.

However, that was not where our disappointment came from in Killarney. We were scheduled to take a tour by horse cart and then have a boat ride. However, due to circumstances that I don’t remember, we were late getting to Killarney. A cart driver offered to take us to catch up with the group for an extra £10 (again remember this was several years before the Euro was introduced in Ireland). This frustrated my father beyond measure, and we decided to explore on our own.

We walked to Ross Castle ourselves (where the cart would have taken us), and it was a lovely walk. Though the carts are nice (I rode in one last year when I went to Ireland for the third time), the walk does allow you to stop and enjoy the beautiful views at your leisure. I highly advise walking instead of taking the horse carts.

Ross Castle was very nice – it’s beautifully situated on the water. The castle itself, according to my 1997 journal, was nothing to look at, so we didn’t spend the extra money to go inside.  However, the surrounding area (part of Killarney National Park) is beautiful, wooded, and filled with wildlife.

Image result for ross castle

After coming back from the castle, we found our bed and breakfast, Cleevaun Country House. From what I can see, this B&B is no longer open or at the very least does not advertise on the internet. I couldn’t remember anything about the accommodations there, but my mother said she clearly remembered the mattress being so bad that when she and my father laid down on it, they actually rolled to the middle in what she humorously called “a gully.”

We had dinner at a restaurant that was recommended to us by the host of the B&B.  It overlooked the bay and shore. Though I tried to look for it online, I couldn’t remember enough about it to find it. Shame on me for not realizing I would want to write about it over 22 years later.

After dinner we went adventuring and searched for a place that the owner of our Kenmare B&B, Sallyport House, told us about.  From what I remember, she thought was the most beautiful coast line in Ireland – Slea Head. And so we took her word for it, and went to find it.

It. Was. Magnificent.

This is a terrible picture I took of my parents on the beach. Ah the days of film cameras that didn’t show you the image when you took it! 🙂 

The cliffs were stunning and the sound of the water on the rocks is a sound that I can still hear in my mind today. Dramatic and beautiful. We were there at dusk, so many of the pictures didn’t turn out very well. However, the cliffs were truly stunning. We walked down to the small beach at the base of the cliffs, and walked around for as long as we could until it started to get dark.

I wrote this in my journal later that night:

“You look one way and there was the ocean, with waves crashing up against he cliffs. The water was so clear and clean – totally unmarked by humanity.  Then you look the other way and as far as you can see are little green squares covered in the white dots of sheep and cows. It is so green and so wonderful. I never wanted to leave.”

I have yet to go back to Slea Head in my subsequent adventures to Ireland, but I do hope to go back some day. I know we were close last year when we were in Killarney, but due to the news we got the morning we woke-up there, I was hardly in a position to pay attention to the roads we were passing. For those of you who haven’t been reading this blog long, you can read about my 2018 experience in Ireland here. The trip in general was wonderful, but the morning in Killarney was one of the most difficult days I’ve experienced.

Next week I’ll be writing about our trip to the Cliffs of Moher… both times. 😁


Other posts in this series

The Gift that Launched A Thousand Trips

Dublin: love at first sight

Powerscourt: Surprised by Beauty

Glendalough: My First Love

Waterford: More than Crystal

Blarney: Everything but Kissing the Stone

Kenmare and the Ring of Beara

Kenmare and the Ring of Beara

For the past several weeks I’ve told you about the first grand adventure of my life — my first trip to Ireland in 1997.  This was not my first adventure, and not even my first trip abroad. It was, however, the first time where I was in utter awe of my surroundings for two weeks solid. If this is your first time to the blog, I’ve listed the earlier posts in this series for you there.

For the rest of you– let’s continue, shall we? After Blarney, we headed toward Kenmare, “the jewell of County Kerry” – and that’s not a phrase to be taken lightly, because County Kerry is a glorious county!

Kenmare’s name was originally Ceann Mara, which means “head of the sea” due to the fact that Kenmare is at the head of the Kenmare Bay between the Beara and Iveragh Peninsulas. It is no surprise that this town has beautiful views of the water and amazing cliffs and stunning shorelines.

Our stay in Kenmare was heightened by our accommodations at Sallyport House, and once again you are all in luck because Sallyport House is still in business! Click here to see their website and book your own stay here. I tell you the truth when I write that the owners here were incredibly inviting and provided us with some amazing “insider” information about the backroads of Ireland that shaped my memories of Ireland forever! I’ll tell you more about that later, though.

The postcard from the bed and breakfast – circa 1997

But let’s back up for a moment first…

When we got to Kenmare, we had just traversed a very stressful and gorgeous stretch of Irish roadway through a mountain pass. It was rainy and foggy, and those of you who have driven in Ireland know the narrowness of some of the more remote roads. They are barely one lane.  I’m not sure how drivers decide who has the “right of way” in situations like this, but there were several occasions where we had to back up for quite some distance until there was pull off that gave us enough space to get out of the way of the on coming traffic… some of which were giant tourist busses. To this day I don’t know how my father was able to maneuver on the wrong side of the road, on the wrong side of the car, in the fog and rain… mainly because my eyes were closed the entire time as I leaned away from whichever side of the car happened to be closer to the cliff-like drop-off. The drive was beautiful in many ways, but all I can remember was knowing that I was going to die in the smallest Ford I’d ever seen in my life as we dropped off the side of some Irish mountain.

So when we arrived at Sallyport House, we were (understandably) stressed out. Walking into Sallyport House… no, driving up the driveway… was calming in and of itself! The house is simply beautiful and painted a peaceful, calming pale yellow. I remember smiling when we got out of the car at how lovely it looked.

The grounds were gorgeous, too! (picture from Sallyport House website

When we got inside, there was a fire in the fireplace, tea ready for us, sweets to go with it, and other guests in the lobby. The atmosphere was so family like! Once we got settled, I pulled out my copy of Julius Caesar and read for a while, a sure fire way to calm me down (I have always been a Shakespeare nerd).   

After a while, we left the comfort of the bed and breakfast and went for a walk around Kenmare. We walked along the bay and over bridges into the main part of town. The buildings were painted in the colorful way that many buildings are in little villages in Ireland. We did some shopping while we were there, and I bought a novelty license plate that I still have today. For years it was in the back window of whatever car I was driving at the time. The only reason it’s not still there now is because I have a hatchback, and it won’t stay pushed up against the back window. 🙂

Sallyport House

 

The next morning we had a lovely breakfast, and my mom had her very first French press coffee. She approved! While we ate, the owner came and talked to us, and when we told her we were planning on going to the Ring of Kerry that day, she discouraged us from doing that. She insisted that it was a crowded tourist route and that the Ring of Beara was just as beautiful and much less known by tourists.

Now, having been to both places (last year I went on the Ring of Kerry), I don’t know that I would say they are equally beautiful… the Ring of Kerry definitely has some more breathtaking coastlines, but the Ring of Beara was beautiful, and we had a day full of driving, stopping, taking pictures, and marveling at the beauty of Ireland. Below are pictures of that drive.  Keep in mind that my 20+ years old pictures do not do the luscious greenery of Ireland any justice! Even though it was overcast, the green seemed to glow sometimes as sun would shine through the breaks in the clouds.

Look closely in the middle of the picture and you will see a “floating rainbow”

SHEEP!

Though Ireland has many areas that are beautiful, the Ring of Beara offered just enough seclusion, especially our stressful drive the day before. I highly recommend that drive especially during peak tourist season. You will find beauty without having to deal with all of the tourist busses and crazy American drivers who don’t know what they are doing. 🙂


My Ireland journey

The Gift that Launched A Thousand Trips

Dublin: love at first sight

Powerscourt: Surprised by Beauty

Glendalough: My First Love

Waterford: More than Crystal

Blarney: Everything but Kissing the Stone

Waterford: More than Crystal

On our two week trek around Ireland, we found many interesting sites both planned, like Dublin, and unplanned, like Powerscourt. And after the “high” of Glendalough, I didn’t know if our trip could get much better, and we’d been in Ireland less than a week.

The 1997 tourism map for Waterford

The next stop on our trip was scheduled to be Waterford. We actually spent the night there the evening we left Glendalough. Our accommodations for the night were Diamond Hill Inn (now Diamond Hill Country House). I honestly remember nothing of this bed and breakfast, so I’m sure it was not terrible, but not as memorable as some of the other places we stayed.

That evening we didn’t get much of a chance to explore other than eating dinner. In my journal I wrote about how nice the restaurant was, but since the idea of public journaling (essentially what blogging is) was not even a glint in my eye in 1997, I didn’t anticipate ever wanting to know the name of the restaurant again. Consequently, though the food was amazing, all I know is that it was somewhere in Waterford.

The next morning we hopped over to the Waterford Crystal Factory.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, Waterford Crystal is internationally famous for their plethora of famous additions to our culture. Probably the most notable item to the majority of people would be that Waterford Crystal makes the “ball” that drops in New York City on New Year’s Eve. However, they are also responsible for chandeliers in some amazing places like Windsor Castle (London, England) and the Kennedy Center (Washington, D.C.). Waterford Crystal also makes everything from paper weights and vases to the statues for the People’s Choice Award winners.

We spent about two hours at the factory going on a tour and then ogling the showroom where you can buy things for between (at the time) £4 to £10,000 — side note: Ireland didn’t change to the Euro for another four and a half years. We had a lovely time, and even teenage me didn’t mind touring the crystal factory where you get to see all kinds of methods for shaping and engraving the crystal. It was actually quite fascinating. I highly suggest taking a tour and checking out the showroom and all of the beautiful things you could never possibly afford, and then buying something a bit more modest.

Waterford has much to offer. For one, it is the oldest city in Ireland. According to Ireland’s tourism website, the Vikings developed a settlement there over a thousand years ago. However, my cousin Tom would insist here that I clarify the term. “Viking” was originally a verb – to travel or to be a part of a traveling expedition. The term was then applied as a noun meaning people from Scandinavia who went viking. (How’d I do, Tom?)

Nevertheless, Waterford got it’s name from Old Norse Veðrafjǫrðr, which means “ram fjord”. However, the native Irish eventually took the city back, and then eventually the British wanted to stake their claim as well. It is a beautiful place with a wonderful port that is well situated to defend, so it is no wonder it was a contested location.

After we left Waterford, we traveled south and west to Dungarvan, another beautiful costal city.

The wind and rain pelted us as we got out to look at the beautiful St. Mary’s Church of Ireland. The ocean was dark blue and incredibly intimidating as the waves crashed long the stone wall around the church. As I would later realize was a common theme in much of Ireland, Dungarvan was both beautiful and intimidating.

After a quick look at names on tombstones, we hopped back into the car and drove a bit further west to a town called Youghal. Also a port city, Youghal was also commandeered by the Scandinavians as a base when they would go on raids along the south coast of Ireland.

My favorite thing about Youghal was the pub where we ate. I checked online just before  writing this, the pub still exists – Moby Dick’s

Photo courtesy of Youghal’s tourism website

It was a cold and rainy day and we had quite a bit of fun there because the pub owner was trying to have a conversation with my father, and my dad simply could not understand his accent. Though, I’m sure time has rounded the edges of my memory, I remember a conversation something similar to this:

(something unintelligible from the owner)

Dad: I’m sorry, what was that again?

Owner: What language do ya speak?

Dad: English. American English.

Owner: (laughing) Well, ya haven’ a prayer of understandin’ me then, have ya!

We all laughed, and somehow conversation became a bit easier – perhaps the owner knew to talk slower and louder for our benefit. We had a glorious meal, and the sun came out for us for a while so that we could walk along the port and see the vessels in the harbor.

After leaving Youghal we continued to drive and came upon some very typical Ireland- beautiful vistas, sheep, and even peat marshes!

Since the road was completely blocked with sheep, we stopped and the sheep parted around us, jumping and baa-ing loudly. It was hilarious!

This was all-in-all a lovely day trip. It was only two hours of driving between Waterford and Blarney where we ended up staying that night– but you’ll have to wait until next week for the blarney on Blarney! 😁

 

Other posts for this trip:

The Gift that Launched A Thousand Trips

Dublin: love at first sight

Powerscourt: Surprised by Beauty

Glendalough: My First Love

Glendalough: My First Love

Ireland just kept getting better.

I saw Dublin and I liked it there quite a bit.

I saw the Powerscourt Estate and loved it.

And then we found Glendalough, and I can honestly say that it changed my life. Up until that point, Ireland had been a wonderful adventure, and after Glendalough, Ireland was a glorious adventure. But in Glendalough I felt something I don’t fully know how to explain. I suddenly, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was were I was supposed to be— like my soul belonged there. I wrote about that a little bit in a blog I did last year. called “I found my soul’s home in Glendalough.”

That day when we found Glendalough, we crossed a little wooden footbridge into the ruins of a graveyard and a church.

Mom and me standing on the footbridge looking into Glendalough

At the time we were searching for the unknowns of our family lineage, and my parents scoured graveyards looking for headstones with our surname.

While they did that, I walked a little ways away and found a large rock next to one of the lakes (or loughs) that gave Glendalough its name. I sat and wrote in my journal until I couldn’t stay any longer.

In my journal I wrote, “I hope someday I can come back here and sit and write as long as I want. Perhaps I will never go back home and I will find a place here, in the mountains, that will be my new home.”

The place is positively beautiful. There are woods and trails, lakes and streams, and so much green, I could not believe there were that many shades of a color I thought I knew. There is nothing particularly “touristy” about Glendalough, other than its beauty and possibly St. Kevin’s cross.

 

In front of Saint Kevin’s cross

There is some fascinating history surrounding the place, but when we were there in 1997, I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t have a tour guide or a brochure to tell me of the historical beauty of that space on the globe that suddenly had captivated me in a way I couldn’t express at the time.

The picture I would stare at endlessly to remember that day

The mountains and the lough

In my travels both domestic and abroad I have enjoyed my time and relished in the opportunities that I’ve had to be able to travel to interesting places. However, I have never felt such a strong pull to any place like I felt in Glendalough. Intrigued by my pull to that place specifically, I did some digging in recent years, as much as I could, into the genealogy of my family try to find out if there was some rationale… if truly I felt pulled there because my family was from there. Alas, in all my research the only ties to Ireland I found were in the north of Ireland, nowhere near Glendalough.

However, over the next 19 years I would think about that place often and recognize it in movies – you can’t mistake the glorious slope of the Wicklow Mountains over the wide, reflective lake. And I did go back in 2016 (My Take-Back Year (and a half)), and though I didn’t get to spend the amount of time I’d wanted to on the banks of the lough, it was enough to fuel my spirit on. On my most recent trip back to Ireland, we did not get to Glendalough, but I did find solace for a wounded spirit in Blarney, where next week’s post will take us.

Powerscourt: Surprised by Beauty

For the next few months I am writing about my first trip to Ireland in the summer of 1997. You can read the first post here where I talk about my first encounter with Dublin, the city that would claim my heart.

I found this ticket tucked in my journal from the trip.

We were on our way from Dublin and making our way, slowly, to Waterford (with many wonderful stops along the way). Our first stop was at a very innocuous looking tourist attraction, Powerscourt Estate. It doesn’t look like much from the entrance, a great, old house, but nothing fancy.

This is the entrance but is the back of the house

The entrance to Powerscourt Gardens is actually the back of the house.

But once you’re through to the front of the house, you can understand why National Geographic has called this beautiful place one of the top gardens in the entire world. The back view of the house is stunning!

Ireland's Magnificent Powerscourt Gardens and Waterfall

Not only is it beautiful, but it is often used in movies! The one that really took me off guard came out a few years after my trip, in 2002. I was watching the amazing movie The Count of Monte Cristo, and there was something about the Count’s castle that I knew I’d seen before but just couldn’t put my finger on. I was in the movie theater thinking to myself, I know that place. How do I know that place? 

Image result for count of monte cristo movie

But then, I saw this scene, and I knew instantly how I knew where I had seen this “castle.”

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Forgive the poor quality of this photo that I snapped using my phone while watching the movie tonight.

I know it seems like strange thing to trigger a memory. This is the scene when the count lands during his first party at his new house. The camera pans down to his feet, and the stones form a very memorable pattern for me. Immediately after watching the movie, I went home and grabbed the photo album from Ireland and searched until I found this photo of my mother I’d taken at Powerscourt Gardens.

And sure enough – years later when I became more familiar with all the internet had to offer, I looked it up, and sure enough, Powerscourt Estate was used for the outdoor scenes of the count’s castle in the movie. If you’ve never seen the movie before, I strongly recommend it even though it is INCREDIBLY inaccurate from the book. It’s well done, and inspired me to read the book.

But anyway… back to Powerscourt.

The gardens go on forever! I believe it is well over 70 acres of land that has been meticulously kept up over several hundreds of years. Though the house was built in the 13 century, it underwent several renovations, even enduring a fire in the 1970s.  The gardens were constructed in the 1800s by the 7th Viscount Powerscourt.

My mother kept several keepsakes from the trip and gave them to me when she found out I was writing this blog series. In there was a map of Powerscourt Gardens.

Here are several pictures of the garden in bloom.

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A keep on the far end of the property afford an excellent view of the gardens and house. However, my fear of heights kept me firmly on the ground.

Near the gardens is the Powerscourt Waterfall, which is the tallest waterfall in all of Ireland. My parents and I enjoyed spending time climbing the rocks and hiking around the waterfall that day. It was truly a wonderful find.

It is truly a hidden gem in Ireland, and I fear it is often overlooked. I hope that if you go to Ireland, you will make your way to Powerscourt to see its beauty for yourself!

For more information about Powerscourt Estate, click here.

Dublin: love at first sight

In June of 1997 I graduated from high school, and in July of 1997 I was on a plane bound for Dublin, Ireland.  While my friends back home were listening to Hansen, Verve, Oasis, and Chumbawamba, I was on the trip that would shoot my life on a distinct trajectory of wanderlust – specifically to Ireland. Last week I wrote briefly about the gift, and you can read about that here.

As a side note, please forgive the lack of decent photographs. It was 1997 after all, and all I have are the printed photographs that have faded and yellowed with age. Many of them are in a scrapbook that I started years ago, and you’ll see the edges of the things I wrote in the scrapbook along with my very terrible attempt at being crafty.

The first few days of our two week trip had us stationed just north of Dublin in a lovely bed and breakfast called Belcamp-Hutchinson. To the best of my knowledge, the B&B no longer operates. There weren’t any websites about it with updates since 2006 – so I think it’s safe to say that it is no longer operational. And that is truly unfortunate! The owner, Dorene, was a very kind woman who truly seemed to love her job as hostess, guide, and cook! While we were there (two nights) we had lovely breakfasts of fresh fruit, granola, and yogurt. She also served hot items, but my 18 year-old self was not particularly adventurous when it came to eating things I couldn’t easily identify.

Our first place to visit was Malahide Castle, and it was a lovely day, in the mid-sixties, and for the Irish, that was apparently a heatwave because people were out in droves. While back home we would have considered that a little on the chilly side, there where people on the beach and even swimming in the Irish Sea. The castle was quite beautiful, though I don’t remember much about it now. I don’t think we went inside, but the grounds were full of people walking around and lounging in the grass.

Next we took the bus into Dublin city where I got my first glimpse of the city I would come to love above all others. And there were probably two places that sealed the deal in my mind.

Trinity College

Situated right in the middle of Dublin is Trinity College, and it was postively the coolest thing I had ever seen before. Dublin was loud and crowded, but once we walked through the gate, the city vanished behind the great stone walls of the college. It was so beautiful and peaceful, I couldn’t believe we were still in the city.

I didn’t remember this, but when I looked back on the journal that I wrote while we were there, I learned that we were there during their graduation ceremonies. Because of this, we weren’t allowed everywhere, but because the college is such a tourist attraction for the city, they don’t close it down completely, even for commencement. We walked around the grounds for a while and saw some of the wonderfully iconic buildings.

And of course we went and saw the Book of Kells. As an adult I can appreciate the historical and religious significance, but I was surprised that when I read back through my journal that I was even impressed with its history back then. No photography is allowed, so I didn’t have any pictures to look back on, but I wrote extensively in my journal about the intricacies of the book.

For those who don’t know, the Book of Kells was compiled in the 9th century by Catholic monks, and is a hand penned copy of the four Gospels of the New Testament. However, they are so much more. Each book was copied down letter by letter (to avoid accidental alteration of the text), and it was also intricately illustrated by the monks as well.

Close by the Book of Kells is the Long Room Library, and of course I was in heaven there. The book nerd in me was fascinated by the floor to (very high) ceiling book cases that contained books that I was forbidden to touch. What is it about the forbidden that is so enticing?

St. Stephen’s Green

Cities are known for their parks, and though some cities may have grander parks that St. Stephen’s Green, I had not seen anything I loved quite so much as that beautiful bit of green and colorful flowers in the middle of Dublin. It truly isn’t much to speak of, but sometimes simplicity is all you need to enjoy something. Much like Trinity College, once you got within the walls of the park, the city seemed to fade away.

There were short trails over rocky terrain, creeks, ponds, ducks, and swans. There were fountains, sun, and shade. My heart felt full as we walked around enjoying the day along with native Dubliner’s, and I even caught a glimpse of the statue of the famous Oscar Wilde. Though I was surprisingly ignorant of who he was for someone who a few short months later would declare herself an English teaching major, I enjoyed his cocky smile and semi-recumbent statue that lounged on the outer edge of the park.

After leaving the oasis of St. Stephens, we did what most tourists do (and I advocate it for people in a new city), we got on a hop-on-hop-off bus that tours the city. We saw a huge section of the city that would have been impossible to traverse on foot in one day, and we had the expert knowledge of the bus’ tour guide to tell us all about the history of the city.

We passed through Phoenix Park and saw some of their legendary deer.

We also went by Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

And we even passed by the statue of Molly Malone, “the tart with the cart” as our guide called her. Constructed as a tribute to the famous Irish ballad that goes, in part:

In Dublin’s fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
Through the streets broad and narrow
Crying “cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh”

My dad got quite a kick out of that, as did several people on the bus trip.

We finished out our day touring the area around Grafton Street, which is shopping area where the streets are closed off to cars.  As a result, pedestrians, street performers, and flower girls all converge around some very high-end stores to make up a strange montage of elegance and commonplace.

 

Next week I will take you on the journey of the next few days of our trip: Powerscourt and Glendalough!


To read up on my trip to Italy and Greece, read these posts:

The Gift that Launched A Thousand Trips

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Photo by Aaditya Arora on Pexels.com

I am obsessed with traveling. I know this about myself, and people often point it out to me. I will see someone that I haven’t seen in a while, and often their first question is something like “So, where was your last adventure?” or “Where are you headed next?”

Sometimes people ask why I love to travel so much, and it makes me stop and think. I’d just kind of assumed that everyone had the same cravings to go and do and explore like I have. However, I’ve learned over the years that isn’t true. Some people hoard and save their money for things other than airplane tickets and Airbnb stays. Who knew!?

My family has traveled since I was a kid. I remember trips to Florida, Tennessee, North Carolina, New England, and abroad as far back as the third grade (and maybe we traveled before then and I just don’t remember). And I look back on those trips with very fond memories.

However, the trip that really solidified my love of traveling was my high school graduation gift from my parents. They told me that I could pick anywhere in the world that I wanted to go, and we would all go there. To this day, I have no idea where they thought I would pick– maybe Australia (because I’d been obsessed with Australia since my childhood babysitter went there), or New Zealand (to visit a former foreign exchange student). But I do think they were shocked when I told them that of all of the places in the entire world, I wanted to go to Ireland– the land of my ancestors to see if we couldn’t hunt down a tombstone with our family name on it (this was before ancestry.com and the internet being useful for anything other than chat rooms).

So, for the next several weeks I am going to reminisce about the trip that launched a thousand trips (give or take)– my first trip to Ireland in the summer of 1997. I dug out my old journal from the trip, and I’ve plotted out the story of discovering where my soul resides to this day: Ireland.

The true challenge will be getting good pictures– so bear with me as I dig through 23 year old photos that were taken on actual film and probably printed out by a teenager at the one-hour photoshop.

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Glendalough, Ireland 2016

Mini-Vaca in the USA

Last week I finished up my blog series on my trip to Italy and Greece (check out all the posts on my main page). So instead of diving right in to the next trip, I thought I would give a quick little post to a glorious stay that I recently had here in the United States.

Over the winter break my son spent a week at his father’s house in northern Indiana. When he is gone for such a long period of time, I really like to take advantage of my freedom (and avoid the silence of the house when he’s not there) so I usually end up going somewhere. One year over Thanksgiving break I took my first ever solo trip abroad. You can read about part of that here.

However, with finances a little tighter (especially right after Christmas), I opted for a local vacation. I hopped on AirBnB for the first time ever and looked at odd places to stay… tents, yurts, apartments above breweries with goat farms attached (not kidding… it’s real – near Cincinnati, Ohio)… in the general area of my home in Indianapolis.

After agonizing over several options, I finally decided that what I mainly wanted was some quiet solitude where I could “get away from it all.” So… I decided to stay in a treehouse! That’s right… a treehouse!

I stayed near the thriving metropolis of Dayton, Ohio in a little town called Xenia. On the outskirts of this little town is a very swanky area with lots of gorgeous, large homes.  I was a little concerned at first that I was in the wrong area, but sure enough my GPS guided me back on a winding road and into the parking area next to a very grand multilevel home (three, maybe four stories). And situated discreetly in the back of this beautiful home was a superbly adorable treehouse!

The bottom level of the treehouse is a wonderful deck with a table and chairs, and (since it was just a few days after Christmas) Christmas lights and even a lighted reindeer to give the deck just the perfect amount of festive ambiance.

Up the stairs is the entrance to the treehouse, and inside everything the site advertises! I worried about staying somewhere I’d never seen before, and if the pictures on the website had just been taken at creative angles, but the little treehouse was exactly how it looked on the website, and I was honestly surprised by the several amenities it offered.  There was WiFi (a little spotty, but serviceable), a mini-fridge,  plates, napkins, coffee mugs, and an adorable toaster oven/coffee pot/griddle combo that made me slightly envious!

On the main level there was a queen (?) size bed with a million pillows, a wall mounted TV (could have done without that), and a space heater that looks like a small wood burning stove.  Then, up a bunkbed style ladder there is a little loft that houses an additional twin sized bed.

The treehouse has a cabin-like feel, with electricity and heat, and even carpet. It stayed nice and warm on a VERY cold and rainy night, and though I was only a few hundred yards from the main house, it felt very secluded — and I am sure it is even more so in the spring and summer when the leaves on the trees would provide even more privacy.

There were several side amenities that I didn’t take advantage of– guests have access to the grounds, a fire pit, and even a hot tub on the deck of the main house. You can even get farm fresh eggs for breakfast and access to the main house (shower, etc) for an additional cost.

The treehouse is probably not for everyone, though. There is a very basic compostable toilet on the deck around the corner from the entrance to the treehouse. In nice weather this would not have been a problem for me. Unfortunately I was there on a particularly cold, rainy, windy evening, and though there is a discrete curtain to shield you from view, there is no roof over the toilet.  Consequently, I had a very cold, wet trip to the bathroom at 4am with wind so strong that it blew the curtain over on top of me. However, it was VERY clean and much better than I anticipated a rustic toilet would be.

By far my favorite amenity was the maple tea the host’s boys brought to me the next morning. The woman who owns the AirBnB and her two boys tap the maple trees for syrup and make tea from the sap. It was VERY good, and I only wanted six more cups!

Nearby is the lovely town of Yellow Springs that became my favorite place to head off to get a bite to eat and have my choice of several coffee shops! The town is very quaint and has a lot to offer with crafty little stores, locally owned shops, and plenty of restaurants.

I ate dinner my first night at Ye Olde Trail Tavern, a lovely little German tavern with unbelievable charm. Exposed beams, low ceilings, and a real fireplace give the place the feel of a real small town tavern in Germany. Despite their lack of many German beers on tap, it was very authentic.

After dinner I went across the street to a little coffee shop called Dino’s Cafe where I was the only customer for a while. The barista was very friendly and made a superb cappuccino (the test of any cafe). In no time, the cafe was filled with customers, and I can see why. It’s just a hole in the wall, but the coffee is great!

Dino’s Cafe

The next day I went back to the lovely little town and had coffee and breakfast at surprisingly large and busy Emporium Wine and Underdog Cafe. It is a one-stop shop for your wine, coffee, bakery, and breakfast needs! They had everything from scones to pancakes, from bottles of wine to used books! They pride themselves as the “Living room of Yellow Springs,” and it was truly that! It was filled with people on the cold day I was there. Business people were conducting meetings, students were studying, families were eating breakfast together, and emotionally exhausted English teachers were journaling (me).

I had lunch just down the street at the Wind’s Cafe which is a deceptively fancy restaurant that I felt extremely under dressed for, but they accepted me with open arms and not a lick of (audible) judgement.

All in all, it was a lovely vacation, and I hope to be able to go back to the treehouse in nicer weather and stay a bit longer. If you are looking for a slightly rustic experience with a wonderful little town near by, check out the Treehouse Getaway in Xenia, Ohio!