We stopped in Athlone for lunch a few years ago on our first Ireland visit. It’s where Claire’s granddad had been living before emigrating to the US.
We wanted to spend a bit more time there on this trip, so we booked 2 nights. In all honesty, the flight over threw me for a loop, so those days were a bit of a blur. I did get to drink a few pints in Sean’s Bar, which, at 1200 years old is the oldest in Ireland, and possibly in Europe.
Wow, is it Monday already? We left early Wednesday for a grueling day and night of travel. The low point of which was my breaking down sobbing in the PHL airport as we shlepped across four terminals with 2 suitcases and 5 carry-ons, the high point of which was chatting with John Prine while waiting to board. Make me an angel that flies from Philadelphia!
I watched an episode of The Good Place last night which had a line to the effect of “Humans live around 80 years and they spend most of that time waiting for things to be over.” Which pretty much describes the flights, baggage, customs, car rental, and driving in Dublin.
We had one lively and idyllic stop on the way from Dublin to Athlone, at Saint Brigid’s Well. Barry took pictures, I did not, so I will defer to his posts for photographic documentation. He has about 900 pounds of camera equipment; I have my phone.
Driving here is stressful, but not because of the other-side-of-the-road stuff so much as unfamiliar signage, very narrow roads and lanes in some places, only having phone service while on Wi-Fi and therefore not being able to set or modify routes on the fly, and a navigator who hates being a passenger in a car almost as much as she hates driving. But it’s a Catholic country so I figure they accept silent Hail Mary’s even from atheists.
More soon on Athlone and Cashel, but now going to watch the light fade over the skyline and enjoy our first home-cooked meal here in Cork.
On our first day, Thursday 30 January, we visited St. Brigid’s Well, in County Kildare. Her Saint Day, which once upon a time was celebrated as Imbolc, happened a few days later, but we weren’t able to stick around. The Well was a lovely place, though.
This is a test. This is only a test. If this were a real post, I would undoubtedly say something urbane and witty.
Cork Spring