The Dingle Peninsula

Tim Collins was our tour guide around the Dingle Peninsula, out in the country rather than in the town of Dingle. He was a tall, white-haired guy with bright blue eyes and looked very Irish. I can't help but notice we've never had a female tour guide.

Ring forts—go back 2000 years—connected with fairies in legend—we just passed one, where the land is up several feet, and plants are growing on it. It's a big round stone wall, reminiscent of stone cattle walls. It’s obviously very old and full of atmosphere, perhaps haunted.

Narrow road—1840s-1850s, for carriages and carts.
Ring of Kearay—another peninsula, about 100 miles around

Beehive huts (several in a stone wall) 2000 years old. Pretty when they’re intact, though even the ones we walked around, with just the foundation left, were really cool looking. I really like old stone buildings.

We went to a 6th century foundation of a monastic settlement (I took lots of photos, despite "oh the dreadful wind and rain"), which included a stone wall circling around beehive cells. Also inside the wall was a small rectangular church, or rather the foundation of one. In front of the church foundations, on the left side of the door, was the simple tombstone of the abbot, and about a foot or two in front of that is a little circle of stones indicating where he died.

It was very windy and wet, and there we were trudging along paths and climbing slick stone walls to look at really old architecture. I’m so glad I got this raincoat for the trip.
We took another stop at the Visitor’s Centre for a 7th century oratory. We went into the registrar’s gift shop, where those of us who wanted to walk through the rain to the oratory went to one side of the room, and those who wanted to be relatively dry and just go to the film presentation and coffee shop went to the other side. I of course went to see the oratory.

Dave bought our tickets, and off we went back into the rain and wind, and the wind seemed, if anything, stronger. We walked the several meters along a path in a field, and oh my it was worthwhile. The oratory, a place for worship and meditation, is the only one of its kind still intact. It's a beautiful little grey stone building. The stones are piled up till they form a point at the top, and before that the ceiling is slightly curved. A small window is at the back where there would have been an altar beneath it (a bouquet of orange flowers leaned against the wall instead of an altar), and a low door at the front. We gathered inside, and it was perfectly dry—I wanted to stay in there longer. The floor, in the 7th century, would have been covered with straw or reeds. It lasted so long in part because in medieval times, it was kept as a shed—a wood shed or something, but it’s still a bit surprising that it is still intact, so perfect. Next to it are a couple of stones with crosses carved on them, and there’s a low stone fence around them.

Next—and by now we were thoroughly wet; my pants and jacket were soaked, but my hiking boots are so good that my feet were quite dry—we stopped at the ruins of a 15th-century church. It had worn down, simple gargoyles, and there were two rooms. At the back of the church, in the center back wall, there’s a long narrow window called the eye of the needle. It’s been worn down, widened somewhat, because people climb through that window; they believe it will bring salvation.

Oh, yes, in front of the church, we stopped to take a look at a large stone cross that’s 2/3 underground. And a few steps beyond that is a tall, skinny stone with ancient language marked on it—I think it’s 4th century Ogham—where there’s a perpendicular line with slanting marks along it. At the top is a hole through which people standing on either side can reach and give a sort of handshake, like making a pledge. Actually, before we reached either of those, there’s a simple sundial that, according to Tim Collins, the tour guide, tells the right time two days out of the year. It’s not properly lined up with the West.

32,000 ring forts on this island
Population five million (one million in Dublin)

From Kinvara to Dingle, Ireland

Kinvara

In the countryside outside Ennis, there’s a fairy bush, and in order to not tear the bush down, the highway was curved away from it. It is reputed that most fairies live under the bushes (white thorn bushes)—always standing alone in the middle of the field.

Rafery (Raferty)—poet, local to Kinvara (was mentioned at the Banquet)

32 counties in Ireland—traditionally, Irish harps have 32 strings.
Hookers—such as in Kinvara—are boats. Dave the tour guide led us to believe that there were prostitutes in Kinvara—he kept saying “hookers” and at some point as the bus was about to cross a bridge, he said that there were some up ahead, and the judge Matthew started to say something about not judging someone by their profession (a little surprising, judging by his profession)…and Dave said, “There are a couple on our left!” And yes, they were boats. With hooks.

“75 People Killed on Limerick Roads in Last 4 Years.”
(Sign—no jokes about Irish drunks please.)

Adare

We just passed a golf course with big old oak trees and with a large castle ruin.
We shortly afterwards passed:
Lots of thatched roofs
I took pictures of a park—trees, a brook with a quaint bridge, and of course palm trees—you can get used to seeing them, even though it’s not what I would have expected to see in Ireland.
I shopped at the Black Abbey Shop across the road from the park.

"Off-license" means it's where you can buy your liquor and bring it home (instead of drinking it there, like at a pub)

Listowell

We stopped in Listowell for lunch, in Kerry County. It's reputedly a very literary location, although judging by the books I saw in the bookstore at the place where we had lunch, it specializes in Dead White Male authors. Really, just because the words "pen" and "penis" are similar, doesn't mean you have to have both in order to write.

I had lunch and was going to the Visitor’s Center Museum but was short on time, so I wandered around and took two pictures of the colorful buildings. Given how much we eat on this tour, it would make sense if I skipped lunch altogether; that's the meal that we have to pay for ourselves.

Dingle

Alpine House—Bed and Breakfast in Dingle

We had dinner at Fenton’s Restaurant, and they made me a really special dish, with many broiled vegetables mixed with couscous and spices and topped with slabs of grilled cheese, perhaps goat cheese. They specialize in seafood, and although three other people on the tour call themselves vegetarians, I'm the only real vegetarian; in other words, I don't eat any kind of meat, including fish.

Afterwards, we went to St. John’s Church and attended a folk music concert. An American, Harris Moore, played the dulcimer (which is not native to Ireland, but it works well with Irish music). He also praised public radio and played beautifully.

After pigging out so much, I had an upset stomach (resulting in diarrhea back at the B&B), so I didn’t go pub hopping like most of the group; Liz and I walked back to the B&B and agreed that it’s good to have a quiet evening off. (The concert was early, like 7 pm). If I had been feeling better, I might have picked up the CD of the singer—I would have liked to have heard what she sounds like when she doesn’t have a cold.