Ireland: Killarney (Sunday, February 24)

Written Monday, February 25 at 10:40 am, Killarney (at the kitchen table)

Went to the Internet café last night, late, for just 35 minutes.  Barely made a dent in my accumulated e-mail, but made sure the Rain Country folk knew I was alive, and replied to a couple work items.  Then went to the Danny Mann pub to use their wireless, and got through a bunch more e-mail.  Should have set up the e-mail program while there to just download all my e-mail, to take care of offline, but didn’t think to.  Tried to update QuickTime on the computer, but failed to get a good enough connection.  Looks like I need an XVid codec to view the videos I took on this computer, but the one out there for the Mac won’t run on a G3, so I’m out of luck; I can store them, but not view them except on the little Flip camera.  I’ll have to wait until I get home to do anything more with them.

We’re going north to Tralee and then out on the Dingle Peninsula, about another 120 miles of driving, it looks like.  No idea what the roads will be like, of course, and thus how fast the trip will be.  It’s also windy and rainy, so it may be a slow trip.

Looks like I’ll finally finish Larry Niven’s The Ringworld Throne today (I actually finished it on Tuesday).  I’ve only been working at it in spurts (when I travel) for a year and some.  Not as good as the previous two novels in the series; doubt I’ll get the fourth one.  I think the plot is scattered; the parts with the vampire slayers and the parts with Louis and Hindmost and company are only sort of intersecting, and there are too many pieces missing from the latter plotline for me to do more than stumble along.  Maybe everything will come together in the final 40-50 pages, but I’m not confident that it will be a satisfying conclusion.  And then I can get back to the second half of Peter David’s latest Star Trek novel, Before Dishonor, also lain fallow for a couple months.
 

Ireland: Kenmare and Killarney (Sunday, February 24)

Written Sunday, February 24 at 6:40 pm, Killarney (at the kitchen table)

Today, we drove down to Kenmare, through the Killarney National Park.   We stopped at Lough Leane and walked up to the Torc Waterfall, then travelled further along.  The roads were incredibly narrow and winding, and the speed markings were as high as 100 km/h (60 mph), absolutely ridiculous for those roads; 40 km/h (25 mph) would have been more appropriate.  Later on, we stopped at Ladies View, named for the reaction that Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting had when viewing the Lakes of Killarney from that spot.

Kenmare was a nice little town.  We had lunch and stopped into a linen and lace shop and into two wool shops.  Kenmare is on the Ring of Kerry drive, so we’ll go through there again later in the week.

Driving back, we took what looked on the map to be a lesser road, but we knew it couldn’t be any worse than what we had been on.  Indeed, it was technically longer (length-wise) than the N7 through the park, but only took us half the time due to much easier road.

We stopped at the grocery store again for snacks for tonight and a few other things.  Included in this purchase: Nutella, and honeycomb ice cream.  Never had them before.  (Nutella is chocolate-flavored hazelnut butter, next to the peanut butter; not nearly as flexible as peanut butter due to the cocoa in it.  Honeycomb ice cream is honey flavored with crunchy bits of toffee or seafoam or some such.  Yummy.)

Going to definitely get into town to the Internet café tonight.
 

Ireland: Killarney (Saturday, February 23)

Written Saturday, February 23 at 11:46 pm, Killarney (upstairs in the cottage)

Coming back after dinner later, Mom missed the final turn to our cottage (inside the complex).  It was dark.  But she would miss it again at dusk on Sunday, too.  Turns out she was counting the speedbumps rather than the streets, and was remembering the original count from Saturday night.

Had quite good fish & chips for dinner, at a pub which eventually had traditional Irish music playing, after the France v. England Six Nations rugby match.  Watching that — I’ve never seen rugby before, and I still can’t figure out what prompts a new throw of the ball (a “scrum”?) — I can sure see why rugby is popular in the gay community these days:

• It’s a drinking game.  Every one of the British players (not so much the Frogs) looked like he’d be downing a pitcher of Guinness or Foster’s or something more British after the match.
• It’s hyper-masculine.  It’s like “tackle soccer” or “football without the rest break after every 30 seconds of play”.  Yes, Virginia, gay guys do fetishize extreme masculinity.  (Well, natural masculinity, as opposed to fake shit like pro wrestling.)
• It’s off the radar in America.  Gay guys have to be either bleeding edge or at least sharply non-mainstream, at least until the mainstream catches on.  Doesn’t matter if that’s facial hair, showtunes, or sports; rugby is so much easier to embrace when Joe Average Straight Guy has at best a passing awareness of it.
• Beefy boys in shorts and sweaty shirts tackling each other en masse, pulling at each other, unobtrusively grabbing who knows what bits of flesh along the way.  Good lord, it’s almost an orgy!  Who needs the bathhouse?
• September 11.  Rugby got a huge boost in the gay community due to Mark Bingham’s involvement in stopping the 4th plane on 9/11.  A genuine gay hero makes rugby a gay sport.

After the game was over, but before Mom was ready to leave the music (we had to eventually in order to get to the SuperValu before it closed), I went a-wandering.  Hoped to find an Internet café, but both I found closed at 10:00 (one had already locked up at 9:45 when I got there, grr), so I haven’t checked my e-mail yet and told anyone I’m actually here and intact.  Found a music store and bought some cheap CD reissues (4 for the price of 3 at €3.99 each): Pam Tillis, Dolly Parton, Mickey Gilley, and Charlie Rich.

Don’t know what we’re doing tomorrow.  Maybe driving the Ring of Kerry (that’s some long route around the county) or going to the Dingle Peninsula; I think I read that there are some archeological ruins up there.  If not tomorrow, then later in the week.

Should find the train station tomorrow and get my ticket for Friday morning.
 

Ireland: Dublin, Dublin to Killarney, and Killarney (Saturday, February 23)

Written Saturday, February 23 at 7:44 pm, Killarney (upstairs in a cottage at Old Killarney Village)

We took the City Tour in the late morning, on one of a fleet of “hop on, hop off” double-decker busses.   We got on at Parliament House/Trinity College, then off at Merrion Square, St. Stephen’s Green (big park), and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, but then rode the rest of the way back to O’Connell Street.   I’ll probably come back to the Guinness Storehouse tour next weekend.   Had luck at the Cafe Royale at a Best Western on O’Connell Street, sitting under the TV showing the Birmingham v. Arsenal soccer match.   Every pub around was getting packed full for the Six Nations rugby match of Ireland v. Scotland, held there in Dublin that afternoon.   So many Scots boys in kilts, everywhere!   (Looking forward to Utilikilt weather in Seattle again!)

We bussed back to the B&B to pick up the car, then drove from Dublin, through Limerick (rather, just to the south of Limerick), and then to Killarney.   Nothing special about the drive itself, although large portions were just one lane in each direction.   Mom’s driving was better, probably because she got used to the car.

It got dark about 20 minutes before we got to Killarney.   The place we’re staying at — Old Killarney Village, a small development of time-share cottages — is outside Killarney, so we missed the turn off and went all the way to the town center, then backtracked and asked directions.   Then almost missed the turnoff going the other way, then just missed the side road from there, and then missed the check-in office.   No big deal on any of that, just one little whoops after another.

We’re heading into town in a few minutes to get dinner and visit the grocery to get all the necessities for the next week.  Maybe find an Internet café, too.
 

Ireland: Dublin (Friday, February 22) — Part 2 (night)

Written Saturday, February 23 at 9:40 am, Dublin (again, on the bed at the B&B)

Dragged myself out of bed at about 9:30 last night, swigged a cup of instant (ewww!) coffee, and caught the bus to the City Centre.   Fortunately, lots of folks were getting off at a couple spots, so I knew when to exit — right on the O’Connell Bridge over the River Liffey.  From there, I walked east along the south side of the river (Aston Quay and Wellington Quay), trying to find Georges Street where a couple of the gay pubs are.  Finally got to Parliament Street and remembered that Georges didn’t come all the way to the river, so I found where I was going in short order.  Passed by the Dublin branch of legendary UK comic store chain Forbidden Planet; I’ll get back there next weekend.

Had a Foster’s at The Dragon, and then a Guinness at The George, where I met a couple guys from London (Fraser and I think it was “Fahmi”).  Chatted with them a bit, then headed across the river.  Tried to find Out on the Liffey, but it is closed according to the guy at The Dock Sauna (a gay bathhouse, attached to Inn on the Liffey; no, I didn’t go in).  So I went to find PantiBar (formerly GUBU [short for “Grotesque, Unbelievable, Bizarre, and Unprecedented”, a quote from Taoiseach Charles Haughey, referring to a double murder in 1982; although the original quote is apparently not gay related, as a name for a gay bar, it is almost as good a repurposing as “santorum”]).  I got rough directions, but couldn’t find it until I stopped at a straight pub and got better info.

Had a Guinness at PantiBar, and eventually started to fade; too little sleep does that.  Met and made out with a guy named Declan there; maybe I’ll get the chance for more when I’m back next weekend.  (Told you I’d pay for the lack of sleep.  Otherwise I would have gone back to the George with him and his buddies and well, who knows!  Always a shame to pass up potential goodies.)

Walked to O’Connell Street to try and find the hotel where I’ll be next weekend, but no luck.  (Didn’t see it on Sunday when we were by there in the daylight, either.  I think it’s a block further up.)  Caught a cab, which I was sure was taking me completely in the wrong direction, but poof, there we were back by Porterhouse North and I was in bed by 1:30 am.
 

Ireland: Dublin (Friday, February 22) — Part 1 (day)

Written Friday, February 22 at 5:15 pm, Dublin time (on my bed at a B&B)

Once we got to Dublin and got the car… more adventures.  (Also lots of Scots boys in kilts.  More on that later.)  First we got a little bit lost trying to get to the M1 (the freeway), because of having to take a roundabout route (which went around several roundabouts, naturally), dumping us in the parking lot of a shopping mall.  Blame a cruddy map from the rental place, and not the best signage.  Signage got worse, though, as it was nearly impossible to figure out what cross street we were at almost anywhere in Dublin, or even that we were on the street we thought we were on.

I’m a bit concerned about my mother’s driving.  Her Multiple Sclerosis leaves things a bit uncertain, and driving on the left side doesn’t help (although she’d done it before).  She kept changing lanes in the roundabouts without signaling, and in generally, she drifts far to the left, sometimes right onto the line (which scares you a bit when you’re on that side of the car; even more when there’s a rock wall there!).  I’m sure she must have cut off some other drivers or edged close to them.  We’ll probably be better once we’re out on the N7 to Limerick tomorrow, though, rather than in the city.

But we finally made it to the B&B… and the owners weren’t there!  (Of course, they had expected us 3+ hours earlier, so we weren’t overly surprised.)  We made our way to the pub across the street, and got the lady at the attached hotel’s front desk to call the B&B, by which time they had returned.  Whew.

Wind is blowing like a demon, almost strong enough to blow my grandmother over.

Now we’re going to head out for dinner at a nearby pub (Porterhouse North; I had “Beef ‘n’ Stout”, a cross between beef stew and shepherd’s pie), and then I expect we’ll crash.  I’ll try to just nap a few hours and then go out to the gay bars, er, pubs, although we’ll see if I can actually drag myself out of bed to do it.

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Updated on December 24, 2009
 

Ireland: Amsterdam to Dublin (Friday, February 22)

Written Friday, February 22 at 11:45 am, Dublin time (somewhere over England, sitting sideways in the airplane seat) / 3:45 am in Seattle

It was looking like the 12:00 time was bogus, since the next listed flight was actually 13:10, but they got us on our original plane and got us out around 12:20.

The coffee was lousy, by the way.   And a “Large” was about 10-12 ounces, so it was way overpriced.   Decent apple cake, though.

Aer Lingus has the least leg room of any plane I’ve ever been on.   My knees touch the seat in front of me.  If my thighs were 1/2 inch longer, sitting would be difficult.   Is this where I make a leprechaun joke, since I’m going to Ireland?

Screaming kid on the flight.  There was one on the flight to Amsterdam, too, but that one shut up for most of the flight.  I honestly think that parents should not only have to buy a separate seat for any kid under 4 years old, they should have to pay double for it.  Anything to convince them to just stay off tightly packed transports until the kid is old enough to not scream like this.  (Yeah, I realize that he’s probably in some distress from pressure changes.  I don’t care: the parents’ “need” to travel with the tot is abusing both the kid and the rest of us.)

No inflight magazine, just a “sell you snacks and perfume and jewelry and other stuff” catalog.  But the snacks listing really shows we’re in a different country.  Beyond the easy stuff like scones and shortbread biscuits, there’s a “Full Breakfast” (sausages, bacon [ham], black pudding & white pudding, tomato, sauteed potatoes, farmhouse brown bread, butter, marmalade, fresh orange juice, and a hot drink; €8, roughly $12).  And two sandwiches: chicken & stuffing, and cheese & spring onions (€4.50 each, about $7.50).  Nifty.

When the beverage service rolled out, I became further convinced that Aer Lingus is a budget airline on the same level as Skybus in the states.  First flight I’ve been on where you had to pay for the beverages.  €2 ($3!) for a soda or a cup of lousy airplane coffee!  Watch for this level of cheapness to hit the main carriers in the states within three years.  I’d love to predict Southwest first, but I’m betting on Delta or American jumping before them.  At least with Skybus (“Pillows are just $10!  Blankets are extra!  But maybe you were lucky and got the $20 ticket for this flight!”) — emphasis on “bus” — you kind of expect it.

What the fuck is up with the flight staff hocking duty free stuff on the flight itself?  No, I don’t want to buy a full-size bottle of liquor or a watch from the stewardess.  What is this, Times Square in the 1970s?  (“Psst, buddy!  Wanna buy a Rolex?”)  This one, I can’t blame on Aer Lingus, since Northwest did it, too.   I wonder how much volume they actually sell?

Ah, the kid finally shut up.
…And then started up again 10 minutes later.