Neither Here Nor There: A Whole Lot About Ireland
Massive Contribution and Blog #Blessing by: Jackie Dion
It is funny when someone asks you why you want to go to a certain place and you don’t really have an answer other than, “just because” or “it beckons me.” I received a few of these inquiries from friends when I told them I was going to Ireland. I think it puzzled people because Ireland isn’t really a wine producing country, and why wasn’t I going to Italy or some other prolific wine region (oh they are on the list). The reason was multi-layered. I needed to get the hell out of the U.S., I have some Irish lineage and of course wanted to be on the same terra firma once treaded by my ancestors. The history, the scenery, I could go on, but bottom line it was beckoning me.
The trip was originally planned as a solo adventure, but my friend Jackie also needed to GTFO of Oregon. It had been well over a decade since our last adventure together, a whirlwind road trip to San Francisco and back with stops in Mendocino wine country, Santa Cruz, Eureka, Fort Bragg…it was wild. Needless to say, we were overdue for some shenanigans, though older, maybe wiser?
While Ireland isn’t a wine producing country, there are plenty of other libation choices and interesting things to learn about them. This is the home of Jameson Irish Whiskey, Guinness. It is also a county with a growing food reputation. If you are in the mood for a restaurant with a robust wine list, there are many options. The wine lists are exciting and different. You can see the care that went into the curation and reading them is a true joy to any wine buff. Things you would normally only see as a bottle options come by the glass. While I’m sure it has something to do with being in the EU, that still does not take away the excitement of seeing a glass of Tokaji for only 9 Euro.
On this trip, we learned about the history of mead in Ireland, went to a mead tasting and heard about a group of Irish exiles called the Wine Geese, who immigrated to France circa 1691, particularly to the Bordeaux Region where they were able to monetize the export market, shipping wine home to Ireland to their families. There are few interesting articles on the Wine Geese you can read here:
https://www.winemag.com/2021/03/16/irish-drinks-history-cognac-bordeaux/
So here is what we did in Ireland, told “mostly” in our own words which we wrote throughout the trip with some slight editing for readability. Our main itinerary was the South-East Region and included Cork, Kinsale, and Dublin. We ended up on a side trip to Cobh, and I had a little side excursion to Kilkenny and the Wicklow Mountains. Please forgive any strange past/future tense changes, and/or first person to third person point of view inconsistencies as most of this was written by both of us, sometimes in retrospect, as it was happening, or as both of us were experiencing the same thing.
We landed in Dublin on Monday August 29 and held vigil by the Dublin Airport baggage claim for the safe arrival of Jackie’s bag in time for us to catch our train to Cork. There were a lot of false alarms, and someone basically gave up and was just straight up sleeping on the floor. Luck was on our side and her bag was the first one out, and we got our asses to the train station in the nick of time. There was a massive line to the platforms and it was really alarming, thoughts such as, “Are we going to have to stand in that hellish line?” But nope! A man was just yelling “CORK” and no one moved so maybe that was for another train. We felt like no good line jumpers, oh excuse me “queue” jumpers but found our seats and settled in for the 2 ½ ride South to Cork.
We passed lots of cute towns along the way like Portloise and every time the train had to make a stop, the announcements were in English then Irish, and while I don’t understand Irish, the last line always sounded like “neither here nor there”. There were of course, lots of cows, a few horses and ponies. It was soothing and I was struck about how kind of treeless Ireland is (more on that later).
Once in Cork, our hotel was a short 8-minute walk from the train station. It was located in a part of town referred to as the Victorian Quarter and our hotel was a converted tobacco factory called the Hotel Issacs. The hotel was quite a maze, and I was quite expecting a minotaur to pop out of a corner any second. The room was nice, not sure how “air-conditioned” it was, and it had strange windows that we could not figure out how to open until we got the night manager to show us and to fix the TV all so we could watch a weird reality show about people who clean the sewage out of airplanes, or was it trains?
The Hotel Issacs has 2 bars, the cocktail tapas bar called Cask, and the fancier formal dinner spot called Greens. After some very inventive and delicious cocktails and a snack of fancy potatoes and shrimp, we decided that we needed to keep the wheels greased with a heritage pub crawl, also code for “we need to just stay up so we can try and adjust to this time zone” (which is 8 hours ahead of Portland). We started out at the Franciscan Well where we had our first Irish Ale from a brewery called the Chieftain. It was very cozy and pub-like inside, and the patio had an outdoor pizza kitchen and covered garden area which was nice. It was still technically summer after all.
Next up we hit up The Friary (not on the list) and had some pints by the same brewery, the Chieftain. The bar was funky in a good way. They were hosting a D&D Trivia night and they had LOTS of Nic Cage décor in the bathroom. In fact, when we had to sit outside because of the crowded trivia room, we were offered Nic Cage blankets in case it got cold. We sat outside and watched the foot traffic along the River Lee and apparently a wake that was happening at a funeral home, that strangely looked like an art gallery and we definitely were asking ourselves if it was a show opening or a funeral because everyone was in black dress, but very fancy black dress. Are we mourning, or seeking out the next big thing in contemporary art?
Next, we went across the River Lee to the central/older part of town with all the main historical highlights and shops, essentially the CBD. This was the third stop on our pub tour, the Vicarstown. They had some different beers on tap and a rendition of the Last Supper with all hip-hop and rap artists. Biggie was Jesus. We sat out on the back patio which was cozy with lots of old stone features. The buzz was afoot by now and Jackie talked to a woman in a cheeky witch phrase t-shirt to get the scoop on where all the witchy stores were.
Next stop was the Mutton Inn which was tucked down a little ally to an even cozier pub with a hodge podge of seating option of varying heights and comfortability. We liked this pub a lot but never went back, nor wrote anything more about it. We would continue to pass by it on our future walking adventures saying “oh that place!” However, we apparently liked another place more.
We crossed the River Lee again, back to the Victorian Q and found ourselves at the Corner House which had some musician jamming at a table in the front. We would find that actually getting to a pub in time for live music was much more difficult than we had anticipated. The Corner House had a more “old dude” feel and we were ready for it. Tired of beer, Jackie switched to whiskey and I had some wine. We needed snacks on the way back to the hotel where at a corner store, we found really bad knock-off Gatorade and discovered that Cork convenience stores are severely lacking in nuts. We did get a GIANT fish and chips on the way back which we DESTROYED in record time, it was so good.
Tuesday – August 30 – Cork
It is now 6 p.m., the church bells just told us so. We are currently at The Courthouse Tavern, a pit-stop on the way back home. Needed to rest the barking dogs. Today we went to Bauhaus, the witchy store that Jackie was told about in a mall with a T.K. Max which is just Irish T.J. Max. A possessed doll watched me try on a majestic horse shirt in the “treatment” room. I ended up buying it and a velvet headband I will never wear because I forgot I wear glasses. Today, we walked to The English Market, a large market that has been around since 1788 selling all sorts of delicious foods, some readymade and others to take home and cook. We decided to shop for a picnic for our long sojourn to Fitzgerald Park. We did eventually make it to the park but kept thinking we were there when we were not. I was getting hungry, so we just hoped a fence along a pathway on the banks of the River Lee. We had the following delicious provisions: Soave from a place called the Wine Buff, salmon pate and cakes, strawberries, chevre with red onion jam, beet roots and sweet potato salad and garlic stuffed olives.
After our picnic, we did find Fitzgerald Park and sat for a bit and watched the ducks and smelled some roses. We stopped at a little free art museum showcasing student artists. We had our pitstop at the Courthouse Tavern, then walked up to an area above the VQ where I guess the old Butter Market used to be. We had wanted to make it to the Butter Museum but alas, time was not on our side. We had dinner at a place that was fine I guess, not too memorable because I can’t remember its name and I did not write it down. I do remember that we did spent another night at the Corner House, this time in the little weird corner where the cycling shrine is. I guess the owner is a real professional cycling buff and I felt like I was in scene from Breaking Away. Jackie had a great quote of the day which was “the men are not alright” and I could not agree more.
Wednesday – August 31 – Cork and Cobh
Today we took the train 30 minutes to Cobh, a place heavy on the shipwreck history. The survivors and the dead of the Lusitania were brought here in 1915 and it was the final port of call for the Titanic where 123 passengers boarded who were definitely mostly 3rd class which means they probably most definitely died. We learned more about both these disasters at the Cobh Museum on the hill which was just a converted old Church. It was a real hodgepodge of random things and was bordering more on organized hoarding vs historical curation. The old man behind the counter seemed a bit shocked he even had patrons. There was some cool Lusitania history there.
We then strolled through town until it stopped being interesting and double backed to a pub called Connie Doolans. We had committed ourselves to finding any pub named after a lady. We had an hour to kill before our Titanic Experience tickets. Jet lag was still getting the best of us though and we still thought the solution was more beer. Or Guinness in this case. Connie Doolans had some outdoor seating and overlooked the sea. By the time our Guinness made it the table an older couple seated closet to the front door were enthralled in a loud conversation with two 30-40-ish men. We shimmed our way in between them at the one available, unstable table and found ourselves at an awkward slope trying to figure out what the fuck was happening. It was quickly deduced that these men were real “show ponies”. And before we knew it, one of the bartenders was bringing out a guitar that David Foster (whoever the fuck that is) played last week. We learned that the bartender was a native but had lived in England for 20 some years acquiring “3 Ex-Wives and a few kids over time”. We then enjoyed a lovely opera rendition of Ed Sheeran’s Perfect” plus a few verses in Italian. Apparently, these show ponies were the cruise ship entertainment on the ported massively obnoxious looking “Celebrity Silhouette” and part of the group “Tres Amis” who took 6th place on the X-Factor back in 2018. We were still confused about the Celebrity Silhouettes’ route…did it leave from England? Was it going to Iceland? We also heard murmurings of “York” and someone named Tyson Fury and Opera. It was an intense hour. Our philandering bartender did say we were getting the best pint of Guinness in Ireland because the kegs are kept upstairs and not downstairs or some nonsense. But it was quoted as fact. Also, we found out Connie Doolan was a MAN so our lady pub excursion remains incomplete.
After the Connie Doolan weird hour, we went to the Titanic Experience and were given tickets of “experience identities” of actual passengers and then at the end of the tour you get to find out if you lived or died, SO FUN lol. I was a 3rd class passenger and Jackie was in 2nd, so I surmised I absolutely died. It was okay, I was eloping for true love because my family did not approve of my lover. On the experience we saw replicas of the different rooms of the classes and how they lived on the journey. Found out one of the super-rich person suites would have been like $70,000 in today’s money. We got to stand on the same area that all the passengers took their last photos before they boarded. It looked out on Heartbreak Pier, which is now falling apart and closed off, but it was where they all boarded the Titanic.
After that we hit up one final pub before our train back to Cork. It was called Kelly’s where a VERY OLD man sang traditional songs (give the cruise passengers what they stopped for sir!) He also sang a cover of Kenny Rogers “The Gambler” which Jackie ended up having in her head for quite a while. We watched the cruise ship passengers “maybe” have a good time? Cruises are weird and unnatural. No small city should be floating in the middle of the ocean. Kelly’s was a little more lively with a maritime feel but with a sad big picture of a mass grave for the Lusitania victims and a large headless statue with large uneven boobs in the corner.
Once back in Cork, we revised the lovely tapas and cocktails at Cask, our hotel bar. The younger boy waiters were so cute and nice, and one wore a psychedelic mushroom button-up shirt circa the Friary bartender. With the Nic Cage blankets. We then hit up Nell’s Wine Bar which was a delicious highlight. It was a natural wine bar with an excellent wine menu and elevated small bites. I think at this point we ventured back across the river to a place that was supposedly the best for local music called Oliver Plunkett but of course we were too late and only got to hear one song. We wandered back to the Corner House where old men are always faintly playing some fiddle music and the young bald bartender sports his owl talisman and Jackie drinks whiskey with the hopes of waking up and not having jet lag.
Cork Epilogue – Things we learned on the last day
- Modern cruise ships only need enough lifeboats for 75% of the people on board
- You can still bring down the house in your 90s
- Don’t ask random already confused looking bus drivers for help
- Actually, if you can, avoid the city bus, it was really confusing and you can walk most places anyway
- You cannot cheat the paid restroom turnstile
- Cork is rad
Thursday-September 1 – Kinsale
We took what turned out to be a city bus to Kinsale this morning after our 3rd breakfast at the 5 Point Café in Cork. What can we say it was close, good, and cheap. The bus was a very stomach-churning adventure and we had no place for our luggage and sat very far apart from each other. I had to listen to a guy play Irish ESPN on full volume on his phone and it gave me flashbacks to when I took the bus to work. Yikes. Apparently there used to be a more Greyhound/long travel type of bus to Kinsale but it stopped running. I complained about this later to teenage boy on a train. Another passenger nearby could not stifle their laughter like they knew what that fresh hell was.
After almost barfing 8 times, we arrived in Kinsale. First impressions were very cool and colorful with lots of cute shops. Our B&B, the Rockview, was pained yellow and our hosts were SO nice and let us leave our bags before check in. The very helpful but VERY mansplainy man at the tourist center pointed us to a hike to Charles Fort via the Scilly (“Silly”) Walk. We are currently on that route having stopped at The Spaniard for lunch for fish pie and fish & chips where we are getting our first glimpse at Kinsale history and its relation to the Spanish. The Scilly Walk was a lovely and a mostly paved hike that had a designated trail that kind of weaved through neighborhoods and some people’s front yards. We passed “crusty old man bench” then a steep incline portion, followed by some bobbing and and weaving though village traffic to make it to Charles Fort. We also stopped at this little, boat launch? Bay? I don’t know but there was a pub on one side and across the street is where all the seating was overlooking Kinsale harbor so the servers where risking a traffic fatality each time they served a beer. We put our toes in the water, and I looked for sea glass while Jackie facetimed her children.
Charles Fort was way cooler than anticipated. It had crazy beautiful views, deteriorating geometric shapes against an ever changing sky. The Fort was built circa 1680, attacked once in 1690. It was run by the English until the Irish War of Independence (Circa 1922) , then burnt down in the following Irish Civil War. It was set ABLAZE and fell into ruin. The guide at the Fort found it ironic that the guy who was restoring parts of the Fort was named BLAZE.
After the Fort, we had to hustle to Kinsale Mead company where I had booked us a tasting experience. My calves were put to the test as it was very hilly and steep, especially is knock-off Birkenstocks. When we arrived at Kinsale Mead, I was heaving like a crazy person, but glad to see no other guests where there to witness it. At Kinsale Mead, Ireland’s only Meadery, we learned the following things: Mead was created in 6000 BC. Honey and Berry Mead were made before the wheel. Ireland used to be covered in deciduous trees, but the British navy cut them all down for ships, plus Ireland decided it wanted to go all in on dairy and needed grazing land. Ireland has the first laws to protect bees. It is called a “Honeymoon” because the ancient town would give young married coupes 28 days of mead to basically get drunk and fuck so they could make babies or the fancy old term “for fertility”. Mead was discovered by accident when a beehive filled with water had started to ferment naturally. Then men were lazy for thousands of years.
After a rest back at the Rockview, we hustled again to our dinner reservation at The Black Pig, a wine bar. I had to make this reservation crazy far in advance and I’m glad I did. Good job past me. I may have had a cathartic moment and happy cried tears when I was able to simultaneously consume a Tokaji (5 Puttonyos) and a traditional, no frills Crème Brûlée . I was also super hormonal but hey, it felt good. For dinner had chili buttered prawns, ginger ricotta crab and pea raviolis, chicken pate with onion marmalade with smoked cornichons.
We finished off the night at the Market Street pub which had a music theme going on, records on the ceiling, old radios on the wall. Jackie had her first Beamish Irish Stout of the trip and completed her trifecta of major Irish beer brands, but it turns out almost all of them are owned by Heineken and lots of bars have all the Heineken bar schwag to prove it. I serenaded Jackie with James Blunt, because it is fun to try and mimic his voice.
Friday – September 2 – Kinsale
Today we woke up, albeit reluctantly, so we could make our 9 a.m. B&B breakfast which was the full Irish of eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, beans, black & white pudding. It was just what we needed but I don’t think I’m into the black pudding which I’m sure is organs or animal blood. Next, we just did some strolling, exploring, and shopping. We hit up the Bookstór, the “kitschy Irish crap store”, the antique malls, the weaver store which had some sheep themed scarves that I told Jackie we could wear in our 50s at the right time, but I’m now reconsidering not taking advantage of that purchase.
Next, we had our harbor cruise aboard the “Spirit of Kinsale” where we had a little 4 pack of Prosecco and learned some more history in between ambient Irish music. The lady captain/skipper fully endorsed our day drinking. It was her birthday and as we departed, we told the next oncoming group to tell her happy birthday. I hope they did because she ruled.
I finally found some PUFFIN ART. What a good day. Jackie got a *maybe* sapphire ring at the antique mall place where there was hot town gossip happening between the shop lady and her friend that dropped by. At the Bookstór, Jackie found the UK version of “Where’s Waldo” which is called “Where’s Wally” to give to her son, Wally. The souvenirs are currently on point and also stacking up.
Tonight, we have a 3-course dinner planned at the oddly named “Man Friday” but there are a lot of weird names here I guess, maybe it has something to do with the Isle of Man, maybe we will find out the history later. It sounds like a straight up Tiki Bar, but alas it is not. At the art store where the Puffin art was acquired, we got some Dublin recommendations including a bar names Hogans which is on Dublin Street which will be a must for us. As well as a place called the “Long Haul” and here in Kinsale a place called “The Tap Tavern.” We still have a night ahead of us. It seems the time change adjustment is still not quite there, and the new theme has become “we get tired if we stop drinking” which I know sounds terrible but also an 8 hour time change is like 6X harder than just going to the east coast, and you got to do what you got to do to keep going so you can do and see all the things.
At this point we have made a few observations about Ireland. Everyone says “Sorry” like, A LOT when there is literally nothing to be sorry for. We saw a strange exchange in Cork where a taxi driver and a guy on a bicycle just spent 3 minutes at a crosswalk apologizing to each other. Everyone is a “lad”. I guess we were being called “lads” a lot at the mead tasting and I missed it. It seems that regardless of age, after school you are helping at the family business. At the Greyhound earlier (Kinsale’s oldest pub which also smelt like Kinsale’s oldest pub) a small schoolboy was going around lighting all the candles at the tables and who I later found doing math homework in a bathroom stall in the ladies room.
On our way back to the hotel for a pitstop before dinner, we encountered a crazy long line, like SPACE MOUNTAIN long ride for a funeral home wake. It seemed as if the whole town was there. We learned about this death later in the night because it is a small town that gossips.
Man Friday – This place was pretty good. Ireland really nails this whole seafood chowder thing which is Salmon, Hake, and Monkfish which is dense like chicken. Ireland continues to be affordable food wise. For our 3-course dinner, Jackie had pate again, because that is her official appetizer of this trip or is an indicator of an iron deficiently. We also got a massive side of mushrooms realizing we had not had enough mushrooms on this trip which is a weird thing to realize. I ordered steak which was unfortunately way too tough but the whole ramekin of Irish butter they gave us for our brown bread before dinner basically made up for it. We shared a bottle of Albariño with it all and after dinner they moved us to the bar where we got espresso martinis and they basically forgot we existed. It was pretty comical trying to get out of there. They sat us by the door to the kitchen where waitstaff could give less of a shit about guests, but we eventually made it out of there. There were incredibly nice and despite some hiccups I would still recommend it.
After Man Friday, we went to the Tap Tavern which was by an old church. This is where were heard about the death that the wake was for earlier. Apparently, a young woman in the community died when another man in a car had a heart attack and crashed into her car. Sounds like maybe the heart attack guy lived and she didn’t. Crazy. The Tap Tavern was, okay, the patio had a weird vibe, but the inside was nice.
Saturday-September 3 – Train to Dublin - Dublin
It was sad to say goodbye to Kinsale, but it was time to head to Dublin. Having barley survived the bus ride from Cork we decided to get a cab this time to the Cork train station. Our taxi driver was a widowed old man from Kinsale. He told us of losing his wife recently of 51 years, that the most important part of their marriage was keeping their sense of humor and that after she died, it would be no good sitting around feeling sorry for himself so he started driving this taxi to get out of his house and interacting with people again… he was so sweet, kind, and full of other inspirational quotes.
On the train back to Dublin, we ended up getting interviewed about “America” by a very chatty 14-year-old boy on this way to a sailing competition. He taught us about having to learn the Irish language in school, Gaelic Football, Hurling and how those dudes are all “jacked” but that Cork is kind of “shite” at Gaelic Football. We told him about the corrupt American health care system, Gerrymandering, gas attendants, and American cereal. I’m sure he was riveted. Truly the highlight though was Jackie getting very heavy about Gerrymandering when clearly, he just wanted to know if we ate Weetabix for breakfast like him and his 5 siblings.
Once in Dublin, it was pissing down rain and I was suddenly thankful that I threw down on that rain poncho jacket thing in Kinsale. We stayed in an area of Dublin called Smithfield which is across the River Liffey from some more of the main attractions, and definitely felt like an area that was being developed but it was cool. I booked us at The Generator which is technically a hostel but also offerd private rooms. Once in our room, we stripped ourselves of our wet clothes. We needed to find a place to eat. I was about to have my period and was being very indecisive, and what was probably one of the most funny moments in retrospect, Jackie told me I could not just stand in the hotel room in my underwear whining while drinking mead straight from the bottle (the mead we bought in Kinsale).
I did eventually get dressed and we walked across the River Liffey to the Pifko pub which was Eastern European and Jackie got to live her pilsner and dumpling dreams. The Pilsner pints where more like pilsner jugs, and the dumplings were Czech gulas and dumpling bread. There was a soccer game on, I mean “football”. After that we were pretty beat, so we decided to check out the Generator’s bar scene where I received further confirmation that we were maybe, in the famous words of Danny Glover, “too old for this shit.” The bar had rave vibes and there was for sure a “stag party” there and they were all dressed like circus performers (do circuses need 2 mimes?) and playing twister and giant connect four. Seriously the vibe of The Generator is “Da Club” and there is a wheel we can spin, but mostly for surgery shots. Oh boy. When I asked the front desk for like 4 more pillows and 3 more towels, he looked shocked. Seriously there was some gross ass mold in the bathroom I also had them clean with a bleach solution. Like didn’t rainy European countries get the memo on their building upgrades that you need SOME sort of ventilation in bathrooms? Look, the room was spacious, cute, well decorated, they were nice, the bed was one of the more comfortable ones, but next time I’m taking my old ass to a real hotel.
Sunday- September 4 - Dublin
Wow, it is already the end of the day, and I am proud to announce that we A) finally made it to a lady pub! It is called Darkey Kelly’s which I clarified was a reference to her hair, because when we first heard the name we were like… um what did you say? Darkey Kelly was a brothel keeper and also probably Dublin’s first serial killer, she was burnt at the stake in 1761 but also I’m inclined to say she was probably just trying to be a regular ass small business owner and someone didn’t like that she was a women so called her a witch because “the 1700s” B) Found actually seats at a bar that is playing music and C) got to hear at least a few traditional music songs! We started the day out hunting for some breakfast. Mad Yolks was our original plan, but it was real sports bro swarm, so we happily ended up at Urbanity. I ate a duck hash and Jackie had Salmon and of course we had our requisite two morning coffees.
Next, we wandered around the historic city center. Christchurch. St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Trinity College, and Temple Bar. We then high-tailed it to our 2 p.m. tour of the Guinness Storehouse a/k/a “Beer Disneyland.” Our tour started out a bit rough but there were a few cool highlights like the old Guinness advertisements, the strange 1-minute video section where a nurse tells us on 20 tv screens how Mrs. Guinness had like 22 children but that half of them died. It was a bit strange. You mostly go there for your free pint in the Gravity bar, one of the higher points in Dublin offering 360-degree views of the city. The view was pretty incredible, but it was also SO crowded and it took forever to snag a good seat by the window. When we did, it was just for just a bit. As it turns out, you just get the one beer there then you are out, I guess you have to share that view and I get it. Outside the Guinness factory are a bunch of weird teenage horse drawn carriage cabbies and I’m concerned about the well-being of those horses…also the amount of child labor I’m seeing to date in 2022.
Today we did learn quite a few things at Guinness: Olivia Guinness birthed 21 children, 11 died. The water for Guinness comes from the Wicklow Mountains. The 900-year Lease thing. The Guinness Ladies were the last 4 ships used /owned to cart Guinness around the world and were names after some of the Guinness children. I have no explanation for the Kangaroos. In other news Jackie got a tattoo today because naturally, and do you think the red cross will stop finally calling her? Our tour guide tonight did not quote the fact that Ireland apparently exports large amounts of blood, maybe human, maybe animal maybe due to the 0+ status of many people. There are many unchecked facts from our teenage train buddy but nonetheless not entirely untrue. We also walked down the “40 steps” (really 38) and this acclaimed alley which may have been a prolific murdering spot of women, with the stats quoted by Killian being that this “alley” may be the place where more women were murdered than anywhere else in Europe… We also got a brief history lesson on Jonathan Swift and a “Modest Proposal” and that the more you study history the more you move to the left. So, in the end WTF is happening in America and the World? And ALSO, we are really enjoying the super gritty nature of this city and need to read more about the many Irish Rebellions. But that is “neither here nor there”, aka the way you pronounce the railway system message.
While Jackie was wondering about and getting a tattoo, I went to “Dubliana” the Viking and medieval Dublin history museum. There were…SO. MANY. REENACTMENT MANNEQUINS. The best one was the Viking shitting is a Viking outhouse complete with pooping and groaning and relief noises. The black death/plaque mannequins were also quite elaborate. Seriously if you love weird mannequins this is your place. Mostly what I remember is: Dublin was a walled city. Moss was the OG toilet paper (thanks pooping Viking mannequin exhibit). The first Viking invasions were 900 A.D. Vikings were master shipbuilders because they relied on oar/man power and not sails so they had better direction/navigation and did not wait around waiting for the wind to make directional decisions.
Jackie and I rendezvoused and had our ghost tour which was not so much ghostly but more like dark takes in Dublin’s history “Dark Dublin” by the aforementioned Killian. He was slightly dorky, well-meaning, and a real show pony. We did enjoy his tail weaving, even though we went WAY over time and KNEW IT. His story telling was top notch. (SIDE BAR: Even if you are not a believer, ghost tours are the fucking best, the hosts are into it, you get so much history and the people on these tours are also usually pretty cool. I have been on a ghost tour every single place I have visited since 2018 and it is a must) Things I remember from the Dark Dublin Tour: Dermot O’Hulry – Tortured Arch Bishop. The Irish Crown Jewel Thief – Caused by a Gay Orgy (this was the best) The Hellfire Club (Rich-ass Satan worshippers responsible for all the dead prostitutes in that alley. Darkey Kelley.
More Facts from Dark Dublin: Body Snatchers – High Demand for cadavers after torture had stopped – started digging up graves to sell bodies to trinity college. Alarmingly people were found to be hastily buried alive and the reason for that are not well known but it was essentially the birth of the Irish wake because people wanted to be really sure/verify that the person was dead before being put in the ground so they would wait days to bury people. The Phrase “Dead Ringer” comes from tying a string to a bell from the coffin and they would watch to see if it would ring , which meant the person was still alive. This was called the “Graveyard Shift”. Jackie also picked up two new Instagram friends. One is a queer Canadian show pony name Hannah and Laura from Chicago. We ended up having drinks and closing down Darkey Kelley’s with them but the true highlight was chatting with the adorable little Phillip who was a portly old man in his little cap who was just out for a good time. His cranky friend Stephen wasn’t in the mood for chatting too long though. “That’s enough Phillip!”
In between the Dark Dublin tour and Darkey Kelley’s we had another fancy wine bar dinner in the Temple Bar area at a place called Piglet as part of unintentional continuing pig wine bar theme. It was pretty yummy though you could tell they were very stressed and understaffed. We got there at 8:15 and had the 3-course meal again. I had scallops, and SHOCKER, Jackie had Pate. We both got the catch of the day for the main course which was Monkfish for me and Cod for Jackie. Dessert was more Crème Brûlée and Tiramisu. Our waiter was small and French and kept trying to take away our wine list, we were like , “Dude we are trying to give you our money!”
Monday- 9/5- Last Day (Dublin-Side Quest)
Jackie and I spent the day apart. She wanted to walk, and honestly my dogs were beyond barking, like howling, like more swollen than I have seen them on a trip before (part bad footwear choices/part period problems) so I decided I wanted to do a day tour to see more of Ireland. The tour was only half full which was nice. Our host with the most was Liam and our driver was Warren and every time Liam dropped a zinger, he ended with “Isn’t that right Warren?” Knowing full well that Warren had no mic, nor any availability to respond meaningfully as he was too busy making sure our bus didn’t crash. Liam also didn’t really tell us our itinerary up front so it was all a guessing game until a stop was over.
Our first stop was Kilkenny. Liam grew up here, so he had a lot of stories on the approach to the town about his first pint, pointing out his brother’s house, and his grandfather’s pub. I didn’t get to see the whole breath of Kilkenny but what I guess was the CBD /Castle area were very lively but with a small-town vibe. It had winding alleys, streets, and corridors, with something called “The Butter Slip” which I never got the history on. The main feature here is Kilkenny Castle. Before I hit the castle, I did walk around a bit in what I believed was the main town. I had a salad (thank god) and a coffee at a little cute, mostly pastel green and pink coffee shop.
Finally, at the castle which was built 8 centuries ago. It was mostly owned by the Butler Family until 1967 when it was given over to the city. I’m sure castle upkeep was a real pain in the ass in 1967 so I get it! This place was not wheelchair accessible, so I saw a lot of old grannies not make it past the first level. Guess you can’t retrofit an 11th century castle with an elevator. Damn, either these sites need to be more transparent about accessibility or people need to do more research before spending a bunch on money for their elderly parents to go to Europe and not enjoy half the shit available, or both…ANYWAY the castle décor was done in a Victorian style. I got the heebie-jeebies in the Moorish staircase which must have been crawling with ghosts because we all know the best way to kill an heir that doesn’t deserve it is a good old staircase push. The gardens out front and back were also a highlight. I thought I might have a pint somewhere next but I was worried about time, so I just walked around some nearby hotel’s magical hedge maze fairy door garden thing which was enchanting and perfect for the amount of time I had left.
Once on the bus, Liam told us our next destination was the Wicklow Mountains which is basically where all the Ireland movies are set (and where Guinness gets their beer water!) There is even a super small town called “Hollywood” on the way to the Wicklow Mountains. Our driver, “Isn’t that right Warren?” had to do some fancy driving in that big ass motor coach on those small-ass winding roads but I guess that is his job. On our drive to the mountains, Liam told us some Irish slang/lingo which had me quite tickled. Here are some highlights: Going “Out” = going out for a few pints. Going “Out OUT” = Going out for a couple of pints (numbers open to interpretation). Saying something is “grand” when it really isn’t all that great at all (apparently the Irish hate confrontations which would explain the whole “sorry” phenomenon from earlier). There were more but I can’t remember. Liam also quizzed us on Irish movie stars which I did quite good on and also pointed out the “P.S. I Love You” Bridge. SQWEEEEE.
By the time we got to the Wicklow mountains lookout point, it was quite rainy and windy since we were now at a much higher elevation. It was foggy, it was a mood. It was amazing to see all the mountain Heather. Higher up it was all purple and as you worked your way down the mountain it started to sprinkle in yellow and then all the purple Heather higher up started to look brown the further away you got from it.
Our next stop was the old monastic ruins/settlement of Glendalough or the land of two lakes in a glacial valley. This was a pretty special place. It was remote with purpose, haunting, very photogenic. Everyone was worried about stepping on a grave until Liam remarked “it doesn’t matter where you step or stand there is probably a body there, there is a body about everywhere.” Or something to that effect. The settlement was founded in the 6th century by St. Kevin (who knew the name Kevin was that old?) There was an old church which was quite breathtaking, and I definitely had a moment by the window looking out into the open sky wondering if I had been here before in another life. I felt like I was experiencing something I just learned about called, Hiraeth (“here-eye-th”), which is a Welsh word (NOT IRISH) meaning, a spiritual longing for a home which maybe never was. Nostalgia for ancient places to which we cannot return. The echo of lost places of our souls past and our grief for them. It is the wind, and the rocks, and the waves. It is nowhere and it is everywhere. And one could say, “it is neither here nor there”.
There were abundant old Celtic crosses growing Lichen or had lichen so old it was now spotted white all over the crosses like paint splatter. Liam took the crew on a little hike that would take us by the two lakes. I made it to lake one, then had to stop at a rest stop because my salad had worn off and I was hungry. I had some fish and chips fired up by two teenagers running a food truck and it was horrendous. The fish was a burnt, black, oily turd so I threw it out and just at the chips. Kind of bummed I missed the stop to the second lake but that first was pretty enough plus, once again the sandals were not helping. They were officially the only shoes I could fit into because my feet were so swollen. I learned some hard shoe lessons on that trip.
Next was a sheep dog demonstration. Yes, we got to watch a couple of sheep dogs herd some sheep and their names were Rob, young but experienced. Ted, a young puppy still learning the ropes. We also got to pet a baby sheep but I was most excited to pet Rob the sheepdog. There was probably other information in there about farming and sheep rearing that I missed but I must have zoned out. It was the end of the tour and was time for the hour drive back to Dublin. One the way back, Liam had us sing Molly Malone and something else I can’t remember. Liam sang Wild Mountain Thyme but didn’t ask us to join in on that one even though I do know the words
Toward the end of the excursion, Liam told us we were one of his favorite tour groups because we were not a bunch of entitled dumb Americans (okay well not those exact words but you could tell that was his meaning) I had one last walk back to the Generator from the drop off spot to rendezvous with Jackie who had spent the day wondering around Dublin. There was a few flash rainstorms on the way back and when I took cover over an awning for a moment, a gruff man forcibly told me “WELCOME TO DUBLIN” like I didn’t know that the rain cloud was about to leave. Like, DO YOU KNOW WHERE IM FROM SIR? SAME LATITUDE, SIMILAR CLIMATE, DON’T JUDGE!”
Back at “DA CLUB”, we freshened up then basically just hung around Smithfield the rest of the night. We ate at a nicer place across the street that had massive portions. I had another really good seafood chowder and we are pretty sure Jackie was served a cauldron of at least 100 mussels. Afterward we were hoping finally, just this one last time, to catch some Irish music at “The Cobblestone”, a recommendation of Liam. But wouldn’t you know it? That shit was jam packed and it was really just funny at that point. At least we were consistent until the end regarding our horrible timing. Tips for future travelers to Ireland who want to hear traditional music in the pub…GO EARLY. We had one final pint at the pub 2 doors down and as we took the final sip, we stared our goodbyes to our vacation and to Ireland.
Key take-aways – If you are considering a smaller town, I would say a few hours in Cobh was just enough. It was a pretty small town and is very touristy/cruise ship port of call so a longer stay would have felt like running out of things to do. With that said, I would have loved to stay longer in Kinsale. Kinsale had it all! Walkability, culinary excellence, charm, hikes and historical places. We stayed 2 nights, but I think 4 would be a good amount of time. I also really liked the few hours I was in Kilkenny, which is a much bigger town but had some small town feels with ample historical nerd stuff to do. Cork was also such a treat and I would have loved to stay longer there. We saved Dublin until the end so at that point I was bit worn out to really get the full experience, but at the end of the day, it is Ireland’s biggest city so in a lot of ways, it has a lot of characteristics of other main European cities. Of we needed more time in Ireland, who doesn’t on vacation? All I know is I will be back to this amazing country one day and can’t wait to see and experience more of it.
