The Ring of Kerry, Dingle, and upwards towards Galway

We arrived in Dingle after a long day traveling around the picturesque Ring of Kerry. The weather cooperated to a degree, treating us with sunny spells throughout rain and hail showers. In the meantime, we enjoyed at least thirty of Ireland's reputed forty shades of green. We checked into our B&B and talked a bit with John, the owner, over tea. As is typical for our conversations thus far, topics ranged widely. Mostly we discussed the economy, surprisingly enough, and how the US housing crash has affected the EU in general and Ireland in specific. He sounded a bit worried about how the next tourist season will shape up. As he noted, "when the US sneezes, Ireland catches pneumonia."

John had to head to the neighboring town to pick up his car. He had flattened a tire driving too close the curb on a narrow road. Hearing that made me feel a bit better about driving there myself. No one is immune.

After watching John's apparently very well behaved dog Rio snatch a slab of butter off the table while she thought no one was looking, we headed into town to explore.

Dingle's a quiet town, and we had three days to slow down in it. We popped our heads into and out of a few pubs along our walk, and also met the owner of the local music shop as we looked for a CD by Paul Brady (a folk singer well known in Ireland, but only recently discovered by us). After finding the disc and chatting with Michael a bit, he mentioned that he'd be playing with a few of his friends down at The Small Bridge that night.

After biding our time talking with a pleasant French transplant named Johanne as we waited out the rain in Dick Mack's, we grabbed a quick dinner and headed down to The Small Bridge to check things out. As promised, Michael was setting up. He recognized us immediately, and invited us to front row seating as they got started. The evening flowed on, and we thoroughly enjoyed the trad session, and a pint or two as well.

The next day, we hopped back into the car for a trip around the Dingle Peninsula, then back into town for food and a bit of socializing. After some very fresh seafood from a restaurant who draws their menu up on a chalkboard based on the catch of the day, we found ourselves once again back in The Small Bridge. Music again this time, but the place was much more crowded with the Friday night scene.

We gravited towards a makeshift game of quarters going on in the back of the sprawling pub, played with Euros of course. As usual, we met a few people, but hit it off best with a localish trio around our age. We chatted it up with Patrick, who talked about growing up around Dingle, getting scorned by his mother for speaking Irish instead of English, and about the evolution of Ireland as a whole. Sadly, he's convinced that the Irish language will be gone and forgotten within the next 50 years. The government seems to agree with Patrick, which is likely why they've designated Dingle as a Gaeltacht. They've subsidized Gaelic-only schools in the region, and pushed to have local road signs displayed in Irish (with subtitles for us tourists). They've also encouraged communities to adopt their Irish names. Dingle (or An Daingean) is the exception, however, because it's name is so well established.

The town itself felt more authentic than others we've visited so far, partly because it is a functional fishing and farming village even when there aren't throngs of tourists around to watch them work. It was a treat for us, as pre-season tourists, to see the town generally as it is in the sleepy offseason.

We headed up to Galway yesterday. Along the way, we visited the Cliffs of Moher and wound our way through the rocky and barren Burren. The cliffs, while beautiful, were host a small swarm of tourists. Though not nearly as many as I would imagine on a summer's day, their presense was somewhat jarring, as we were a little better acclimated to quieter environs populated generally with locals. Now that we're in Galway, however, we'd better get used to it. Though only numbering about 65,000 or so, it's a great deal larger than the tiny towns we've gotten used to so far.

We're staying right on Eyre Square in the city's center, so I'm sure we'll adapt back to city life fairly quickly, with a war story or two to share with you soon.

Another footnote: Unfortunately, sharing some of our photos with you is proving to be a bit more difficult than I expected, so you're still stuck with my attempts to describe our travels. Please be patient. It will be rewarded. ;)

Kilkenny, Kensale and a bit of Kenmare

After landing in Dublin and walking across the tarmac to the terminal in light snow, we made our way to the car hire via shuttle. After a very friendly exchange with a very helpful Hertz employee, we got ready to jump into our VW Golf. The car was, aside from various beds and breakfasts, going to be our home for the next two weeks. Promptly, I opened the passenger side door to get ready to start our journey only to find that the steering wheel had been moved. After nearly exiting the parking lot using the wrong lane, we left the airport and headed south on the M50 towards Kilkenny.

As I acclimated to life on the other side of the road, Beth played the role of our navigator, directing us from country road to turnabout to country road as I threaded the needle over one-lane bridges and hung my tires off the edge of the asphalt on many an occasion. I'm much better adapted to it now, and feel a fair bit more confident after our initial trek to Kilkenny, where we were involved in two near-misses due to my tendency to look left rather than right when turning. I even earned a stern finger wag from an elderly local driver after I failed to give her the patch of road she was entitled to.

The weather has been cooler than we expected it would be. Along one stops along our way to Kilkenny, we witnessed a sunny day give way to a hail/snow storm, then back again. Twice. All in the course of about 30 minutes.

In Kilkenny, we settled in and headed out for dinner and a pint or two at Kyteler's Inn on Kieran Street in our attempts to stay up as late as possible to overcome our severe jet lag. As I drank the freshest pint of Guinness I have ever had in my entire life, I listened as a local talked down the local brew, explaining to me that the Irish Guinness would give me gas. He told me this while drinking a pint of Coors Light over ice (seriously, he emptied his bottle of Colorado Kool Aid into a pint glass full of ice). I like to think that I make an effort to understand and appreciate local trends and "customs," but this is something that I will probably never get.

After a night in Kilkenny, we meandered down to Kensale for two nights in the sleepy harbor town. There we discovered that Mondays and Tuesdays in the pubs are primarily reserved for the hardest of the hard-core patrons. We persevered, however, and were treated to an interesting glimpse of the local "culture" over a pint or three of our new favorite ales and ciders. For me, it's Smithwick's (or "smithicks") Ale. For Beth, it's a glass the Bulmers cider (known as Magners outside of Ireland so as not to be confused with British cider of the same name).

Given our experiences so far, the Irish have been most gracious and accommodating. Just about everyone has a nod or a quick "hello" for you as you pass them on the street. Even the initially cold will warm up with a little as a word or two, leading to a chat with a feeling of familiarity akin to one between old friends.

I've got to wrap this up as we'll be checking into our room in Kenmare shortly. From here we'll be heading up the western coast, stopping over for a few days in Dingle as we explore a good portion of County Kerry. Expect more in a few days!

Oh yeah, we've got some great pictures to share, but luck isn't with us at the moment. Expect an update when we find a computer willing to talk with my camera.

On Lenahan

Irish ears tend to perk up when they hear our last name. Our tour guide in Kensale called it a "fine Irish surname," and the proprietor of our B&B there mentioned that she knew of a few Lenihans in and around County Cork. According to her, our spelling of the name is uncommon, and that it's far more common to see it spelled "Lenihan" or "Lenehan." The differentiations, she said, are likely due to the aglicization of the Gaelic spelling, which can vary. She also mentioned that Irish names are sometimes changed by officials as Irish immigrants pass through Ellis Isle.

Here's the entry for Lenehan in an Irish surname book she had handy:

"Lenehan is the algicised version of the Irish O'Leannachain, possibly from leannach, meaning 'sorrowful.' It appears to have arisen separately in two localities, in Co. Roscommon in the west, and in the south in the Limerick/Tipperary region. Bearers of the surname are found in both areas today, but it is most common in the south. The most prominent contemporaries of the name are Brian Lenihan (b. 1924) and his younger sister Mrs. Mary O'Rourke, of the Roscommon family, who both served in a variety of ministerial positions in the Irish government from the 1970s to the 1990s."

So there you have it.

And we're off...

And so another trip begins. The bags are packed, the itinerary is once again printed and bound (no joke!), and the check is in the mail (April 15th cometh whether we're here for it or not). It's time once again to downshift and reset our clocks. Luckily, that task will be a little easier this time as we scored a direct flight from LA to Dublin via Aer Lingus, so we'll have ten uninterrupted hours to adapt after taking a short hop up from San Diego.

I'm not sure what the connectivity situation will be for us on the other side of the pond, but I'm hoping to update our little 'log here every few days.

Stay tuned!