just got back from a 10-day trip to ireland.

quaffed a pint and stole the pint glass from the guinness storehouse. kissed the girl on the cliffs of moher (though they seemed a bit less with retaining walls). photographed some dingle "berries" on the dingle peninsula. found one of 2 restaurants open in kinsale this time of year. kissed the blarney stone and got the gift of scab (not really, but i did catch a cold or sinus infection or some such--probably not from the blarney stone). threw rocks from rosslare harbour in the direction of the british. hopscotched through the craggly burren. walked around a fairy ring. and took a ferry to kerry after a night in doolin. mistook bunratty castle for eurodisney. almost drove us into a ditch on a rural road one dark and foggy night. thoroughly saturated my clothes with the smell of burnt turf/peat. found that the irish are much fonder of rugby than football/soccer. the food wasn't great, sad to say--so thank arthur for the guinness. couldn't bring myself to try chinese with a side of french fries. i partly kid about it all.

the weather cooperated nicely--just one rainy afternoon, a couple of overcast days, and sunshine the rest of the trip.i hadn't realized that ireland was so far north--i suppose it surprised me because the weather was milder than here at home. but the sun never seemed to make it very high in the sky. i imagine it's brighter in the summer, and even greener. but this time of year, well, i don't think i could ever call ireland my home. there's not enough sun, and that depressed me a bit.

it's neither here nor there as far as spectacular scenery--beautiful places, but nothing spectacular. dublin and limerick were cities like so many other european cities (not like paris). the countryside was rural, like so many other european countrysides (not like the alps). but the villages and towns were quaint, of course.

i did enjoy the folklore and culture. i very much enjoyed learning about irish history, especially about tensions in the north.

on a scale of 1 to 10, i rate it a 6. i imagine it much prettier in the summer, and likely more interesting if you're exploring your own heritage. (so a possible 8 or 9 for others.)

days are longer, more sunlight/daylight. and i can certainly see how different it'd be if i were 18-ish.

as for soccer, of course, they were also in belfast. on the flight back, i was reading "how soccer explains the world". the author wrote a bit about the glasgow rangers (predominantly protestant supporters) v. celtic fc (predominantly catholic supporters, with a strong irish following) (both of these teams are in the scottish league) and how these teams act as symbols for the protestant/catholic tensions that exist in scotland and northern ireland. makes sense that there's a good soccer following in northern ireland. (i suppose it's probably not really so different in the republic. zb can probably correct me about my superficial pronouncements here.)

but i'll tell you, i had a heck of time finding team jerseys to purchase for any of the irish league teams. it was all rugby jerseys.

Man, you MUST be doing well.

I've given up European travel for a while. And it makes me very sad -- I was hoping for Greece this year. Instead, we're going to Vieques, the island the Navy used to bomb. Can't wait. (NEED VACATION BADLY!!!)

besides, we managed to do the trip for about $2,000 each, so it wasn't horrible.

i spent much more, but mostly because hertz charged me 1000 euros, just because i hit a bus.

- a story from a long time ago.

We took the train from Paris to Strasbourg, and spent a few nights in the Alsatian capital - home to the world's most other-worldly cathedral.

We then rented a car to drive through Alsace on their famous "route du vin".

The car rental agency was located in the train terminal which was in the heart of the city.  It was a Renault Manager - aptly named because when it went uphill, it barely managed.  I had to get an automatic car, because, well, I don't drive standard.

We get in the car having lugged our luggage quite some distance.  We are in an enormous underground parking lot.  This is some 20 years ago.

Try to start the car.  It won't quite start.  Try 12 times or so.  No luck.  Get out, walk back to the car rental agency booth some ten minutes away.  I tell him my troubles.  He says it's impossible.  We discuss it back and forth.  Then an idea hits him - he says, "pull the choke".  I say, "What's a choke?"

So I go back to the car and pull the choke.  It starts - funny so far, eh?  We pull out of the parking spot and try to find the exit.  We pull up to a booth.  There is no one there.  It looks like it's automated, and we haven't been given anything to get out of the place.  Back I go to the parking space and back to the car rental spot.  He's surprised to see me.

He tells me to do it again - the guy manning the booth was on the toilet.

Now this guy had given me explicit written directions as to how to get out of the city and onto the route du vin.

We follow them to the letter.  About 7 lines down he tells us to take a certain exit from the highway we are on.  We come to the exit, but it turns out there are two exits, one to the left and one to the right.  We choose the one to the right.  They both had the same name - how else to decide?

We decided wrong.  We end up on a road that ends at a hospital.  We turn around - back to the highway.  As it turns out the only thing you can do is get back on the highway in the direction of Strasbourg.  We get back in Strasbourg.  We get lost.  A policeman yells at us for driving in the pedestrian area.  We get back to the highway.  Better half says we go in a certain direction.  20 minutes later we realize we are going in the wrong direction.  We turn around.  

I've had, by this time several heart attacks.

We finally get back on the highway and back to the place where we went right instead of left.  We correct this error.  50 yards later we are totally lost.  We are in an industrial area with grapes nowhere to be seen.  I say something about my navigator and get smacked.

We stop at a factory and ask for directions.  The guy gives up trying to explain it to us and decides we should just follow him in his car.  We are grateful.  We had hoped to be on the route du vin by 10 a.m.  It's 3 p.m. by the time we make it.  Five hours of terror, rather than terroir.

i suppose if there was one thing that impressed me about driving in ireland, it'd be the fact that roads and destinations are all really well-marked. we didn't get lost even once.

so long as you knew the names of all the towns between where you were and where you were going, yes.  though, i think we got lost only twice (and not very lost at that).  though, when we stopped at a pub in, carlow, i think, to get directions to trinity well (supposed source of the boyne.  drinking from it in june, which i did, is suppossed to grant the gift of poetry) we found out that a fun game for the local delinquints was to turn road signs around.

the best directions we got were from the bru na boinne visitor's center to the b&b we were staying at: (best read with a lilting brouge) "you take a right out of here and travel down the road.  you'll pass an old burnt out mill.  then you'll reach a spot where the trees hang over the road like a tunnel and the sunlight comes dappling through the leaves.  it's on your right just after that; you can't miss it".

at least i can drive stick. 

(i kid, i suppose.)

well, you're one-half of a dynamic duo.

sorry.