Ireland – A Dingle Jingle
August 31, 2011 in Destinations, Travel
Tour books talk about the distilleries, the green hills, cut glass and of course the ring of Kerry. But that is just the hint of what is fantastic about Ireland. If you get a map with the emerald isle’s archeological points of interest you will see thatIrelandis filled with secrets.
As you travel up the west coast you will find amazing seaside villages, old cottages covered in roses, fields of flowers and the spectacular Kylemore abbey and lake in County Galway. But for my money the best you’ll see inIrelandwill take some hiking. Park the car and walk a bit and you will find round forts, castles and the beehive homes, called ringforts made out of flat stones like an igloo. These 4,000 year old homes were constructed so that the stones force the rain outward and the interior stays dry. There are tombs and underground tunnels. But don’t try to go past where the natural light shines. I of course did and all but got wedged in between the rocks. Some body parts that go into a space don’t come out as well (think ears, stomach and back) but if scrapes don’t bother you…explore away.
My friend Alanna and I drove all over the place, glad to be on the right side of the road, meaning both on the right and the correct side for Americans. It’s hard enough to be in strange lands without having to stop at every traffic circle and rethink directional flow. So there was that going for them from the get-go.
The Irish are made of strong stuff. Not only do many of these rugged people heat their homes with peat logs they cut out of the bog themselves, but some of their ancestors lived out in the middle of the bogs in stilt houses with floating walkways. If the enemy came calling they could simply take up the front walk and welcome mat.
Then for fun we drove to Dingle. Dingle is a mountainous peninsula that juts out into theAtlantic Ocean. It has supported various cultures for over 6,000 years. And it has over 2,000 monuments of archeological importance. This includes stone age, bronze age and iron age, Christian and Viking eras and more recent history starting in the 1600s. Yeah, I know, remarkable. TheVillageofDingletoward the end of the peninsula has restaurants, music shops, and gift shops. All of the buildings are painted wonderful colors, blue, red, yellow, green. When I asked a local about the colors he said, “Nobody had colors when I was a boy, it was all whitewash. They just did it to attract tourists.” Well, it worked.
As you can imagine we lost track of time. Between the sheep blocking the road, and the rain it wasn’t until 8 pm when we arrived back to our lodgings at the Lake Carrig Inn. This is the most charming inn I have ever stayed in, ever, anywhere. It is on the pristine edge ofLakeCarrig. Our bedroom looked over the massive hedges of Hydrangeas and Rhododendron, across the blue rippling waters and onward up to the misty green hills on the other shore. It had been raining off and on all day, not that it stopped us from exploring every historical marker sign with an arrow pointing up hill and down dale. At day’s end however we were drenched. I approached theInnkeepers wife and I apologized for missing dinner and asked if we could just get some tea and toast. She disappeared from the half-door and I heard a booming voice coming down the hall. The Inn Keeper appeared apron on. He shook his head.
“Aye then look at you, a pair of drowned rats. You poor things. Now run upstairs take a hot shower and I’ll have chocolates and rum waiting for you by the fireplace. Then while you warm up I’ll be preparing fresh almond crusted trout, steamed summer squash, and potatoes. Maybe some rhubarb-strawberry jam over homemade ice cream later?”
Then he gave me a huge bear hug and walked away laughing and smiling. I stood in place. If that had been my father I would have gotten, “What hell do you need an engraved invitation to eat? You missed it, there’s no more food. And stop dripping on the carpet.”
If I ever come into money I am spending every summer at the Lake Carrig Inn and pretend the jovial innkeeper is my father.
When childhood stood still . . .
Kusadasi, Turkey home of the Deal.
Could You Be a Social Media Addict?
The Amana Colonies – Midwestern Life at its Finest









Recent Blog Comments