Was up to the border this morning via train. A soggy beginning, but the sun won out in the end. We set off south passing through Slane and appreciating the main square where four identical Georgian houses are places octagonally on the main intersection. Very stately.
Armed with a neat new TomTom One GPS unit we set off for Tara. With the sun bursting through we find the sacred hill. There is little scale to the actual mounds themselves. There’s sheep wandering about and many pats to avoid. The moats around the mound are just enough to keep you on your toes, but just grassy knolls really. Now, I had taken a look at pictures of the stone of destiny…and somehow it all seemed much bigger.
But lest ye think that I was dismayed by the scale or setting…it’s a magical experience! The view from the mound is absolutely spectacular…according to accounts you can see all four provinces (kingdoms) from the hill. I am convinced. The vista is amazing. The stone is smaller than expected, but here’s the thing…it pulses with energy. No kidding. I used the stone like a divining rod and could easily feel the energy flowing from it. Now, if things were all as they should be, it should have been wailing…as it is claimed when the true king touches it, it will cry out in a shriek that can be heard throughout the island. For me…it was silent. Imagine my disappointment I was thrilled to visit Tara. What a treat and what a special guide.

A wee bit of wet, but a very warm welcome greeted me in Tipperary this weekend. My good friend Keza and her lovely girls are staying with the Ryans on their place near Atshanboy. I headed out early Saturday morning and the train to Thurles was efficient and ontime. Keza and Seamus Ryan met me at the station and I got a wonderful guided tour of the rolling lush scenery that is Tipperary. It was a treat. Despite persistent rain, Seamus gave me a quick run around some of their fields and tour of the farm. We also took a quick look to one of their houses - a fixer-uppers dream just waiting for the right taker. We attended a christening at the afternoon and I was welcomed by the O’Dwyers to the family party. We watched the GAA and partook of a lavish potluck. Everyone was open and welcoming and made me feel just great.
After mass we had a lovely evening of deep discussion. Sunday found Keza, the kids, Seamus and I off for a castle tour and we spent a couple hours at Cashel. Absolutely spectacular! Part of the edifices on the Rock of Cashel date from 550AD and it is a site connected with Munster royalty until the 12th century, when it was gifted to the Irish Church and became the seat of the Archbishop of Cashel. The enormous limestone rock upon which the cathedral is constructed is absolutely immense, the buildings some of the most spectacular ruins that I have ever witnessed. Mary, our lovely tour guide held us enraptured with tales, ribald commentary and a sparkling whit. We learned about the ancient cross of St. Patrick around which one can gain eternal immunity from toothaches if you can make your hands meet on giving it a bear hug. Keza has a picture of me desperately trying to accomplish said feat. The cross is placed on the supposed coronation stone of the kings of Munster, although there is some dispute over whether the rock we saw was the actual stone of history. Upstairs are the painstakingly reconstructed vicar’s choir featuring goat’s skin windows and a marvelous ribbed ceiling of Irish oak. Proceeding outside we were regaled with stories of the renegade archbishop who held both the protestant archbishopric of Armagh simultaneous with the Roman Catholic one of Cashel, all the time writing sweet nothings to Elizabeth I. We appreciated the awe-inspiring over-construction of the cathedral, Cormac’s chapel, a curious round tower and a huge assortment of stunning celtic crosses. The graveyard surrounding the cathedral is still receiving internees and the views from it are spectacular in all four directions. The rock is a commanding presence over the countryside and it is clearly evident why it would have been chosen as the seat for the high-king of Munster. It’s very difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer scale of Cashel Rock and the buildings on it. The roofless cathedral has a commanding majesty even missing significant portions of what was once a pre-medival stronghold. I was very reminded of Laon in France, with a rougher, more rugged visage.
We visited the reconstructed Holy Cross Abbey on the way back to the Ryan farm. It to was breathtakingly beautiful. All the more so for it having been a roofless and rundown ruin twenty years ago, painstakingly reconstructed using original techniques. Although the abbey dates from more recent times - the 14th century - it has a wonderful serenity to it and the craftsmanship in the reroofing is simply brilliant. Up Tipp!

So…I finally made it out of Dublin. A month here and I had remained largely confined, but by the good graces of my friend Mary, I spent a lovely day traveling down to the South coast of Ireland. Destination: the Irish riviera at Trá Mhór (I honestly didn’t realise that that was a used term when I composed and published this, but lo and behold some clever marketeers actually use it). The journey was a treat. We passed through the stunning Sally Gap, along Braveheart Avenue (I kid you not, they seem to have renamed the road through the gap after the movie filmed there. We dropped into Glendalough, saw the magnificent round tower, located in an equally fascinating graveyard at St. Kevin’s church. We also discovered that St. Kevin was quite the entrepreneur, establishing a mobile kitchen, a craft shop and a pub onto which he proudly emblazoned his name;-)
Mary came superbly prepared with a full picnic lunch which we enjoyed in a roadside lay by. After repasting, we headed south closer to the coast and made an attempt to find Father Murphy’s Boolavogue. We followed a couple of signs and then as we should have been close, no more signs. We made a turn (incorrect as we eventually learned as the signs began a few km further on pointing backwards). We’ll find it next time. Passing through Enniscorthy we eventually reached Waterford. A lovely town lining the river Suir and clearly attached to its own Viking roots. It too features a round tower, abutting which buildings have since been constructed.
Heading out of town we headed for Mary’s hometown of Trá Mhór. It’s a lovely seaside village with an absolutely awe-inspiring beach. I learned that Trá means strand and Mhór means big. It did not disappoint. There were dueling circuses in town (I do really think that the plural is circi) and the promenade was packed with bank holiday circus goers. The weather was lovely and after a tea with her brother and a chance to see the family demense, she dropped me at the station in Waterford so I could catch the train back to Dublin. I now write from the train as we *speed* through the Irish countryside.
It’s a 3 hour trip from Waterford to Heuston Station in Dublin. We are now at Athy. When we hit Kilkenny, we turned around and headed back for Waterford. Well, hopefully not too far, but as it turns out its not a through station. Additionally, the mainline we are following is a single track and so we stop every now and then (sometimes in the stations - sometimes in the middle of nowhere).
An absolutely lovely bank holiday.

Well, our first adjacency to a bank holiday here is Ireland. Bank holidays seem to exert a curious waterfall effect on all days surround. The academy closed an hour early on Friday, because Monday is a bank holiday. Not complaining about that. I was going to avail myself of library services today as Matt alerted me that my local public library is right across the street. But…because Monday is a holiday, the bank is closed today, Saturday. Sure, makes all the sense in the world.

Anyway, a slow start to the weekend, as I had a number of errands to run about town. All accomplished by noon, I decided to check out a restaurant recommendation from one of our pals at the academy Vanessa Carswell, who writes a foodie column for the Sunday Business Post. The Winding Stair is located Liffeyside at Ormond Quay. There’s a lovely little bookshop downstairs with new and used books. Upstairs there is an airy open restaurant with spectacularly large windows overlooking the river. The fare (as promised) was solid Irish. Today’s specials featured Irish Chicken, Lamb, Haddock and fourth which I can’t remember. I started with an amazingly rich fish chowder that was seasoned with chorizo sausage. Normally, I’d have wondered about such a combination, but I like them both, so hazarded an order. Scrumptious. My main was the lemon and herb haddock, which was an ample portion and tasty, but a tad greasy for my liking. One thing I have noted with the fish and chips here in Dublin is how amazingly light the batter is and possibly (in my dreams) somewhat less unhealthy than back home. Partnered the meal with a Celtic Wheat Beer. Quite nice for an afternoon nosh.

Finding myself on the north side of the Liffey (a rarer occurence for me), I had the thought to bike on out to Howth and check out a few northern neighbourhoods. Although as I sit back in ballsbridge and write this, the sun is shining nicely, the weather has been rather changeable today. Thus, even in the short jaunt as far as St. Anne’s Park in Clontarf, there were at least three points at which I sought some respite from the rain under a handy tree (or at St. Patrick’s in Drumcondra). Managed a very leisurely journey through Drumcondra, Fairview, Kilester, Coolock, Raheny, Kilbarack and Sutton. The route I happened upon was rather urban, moving along relatively busy roads. When I hit the spit of and heading out towards Howth I discovered that there is a lovely coast road. Should have figured that one. Took it the way back and it was a far more enjoyable journey. The city has created a well maintained and scenic promenade along marshes and the wild of the north Dublin coast. There is a gold course located out from the coast along a casueway and the lovely twin smokestacks of the Dublin powerstation guide you back home. Far more conveniently and unbeknownst to me on the way out, was the outer bridge over the Liffey takes you right into Irishtown/Ringsend and I am home in 10 minutes. A rather long journey, but one with very cool finds.