Cashel and Doodling around Dublin

Driving from Dingle to Dublin in a day is a bit much, so your intrepid trekkers broke it up with a stop and stay in Cashel,County Tipperary. Coincidentally, it is also the location of The Rock of Cashel -sometimes known as The Cashel of the Kings and St. Patrick's Rock. The room in our B&B had the, "best view of The Rock," per our host and we quickly dropped our bags and headed up to the site. My traveling companions looked up at the edifice aka cathedral, grounds, walls and sighed, "ABC" -another bloody church. I do admit to having a fascination with these ancient religious buildings and places -castles too. Come on folks, humor me. There are no cathedrals built between 1235-70 in the U.S., and I was determined to limp my way up there (ankle still a bit tender) whether they wanted to or not. How many railroad, automobile, farm equipment, airplane, lumber mill stuff, hydroplane, old out board boat engine & gadgety what-not museums  have I been dragged to? By the way that list is not all inclusive, Muk Luk Land anyone? Who can possibly forget the place that has an exhibit of out houses -in very bad shape I might add. Harrumph!

Tripled layered to ward off the biting cold, we arrived at the site paid our admission and took the tour. Indeed the wind was so ferocious, at times our guide had trouble being heard over the roar. The tour was worth the time as the complicated history of the place was explained. This outcropping was once the seat of  power for ancient Irish Kings -and whatever fortification existed here prior to the 11th century must have had great strategic import. The view from the top stretches for miles.  One of the Kings was baptized by St. Patrick on that very spot and a subsequent King gave The Rock to the Church. It was at times a place of refuge for the clergy and has a maze of passage ways within the walls. These hidden passages along with the Round Tower provided some safety against marauders. The place is covered with scaffolding due to major renovations needed to shore up the roof of the cathedral. but better that than have it collapse. Just below The Rock are the ruins of  Hore Abbey -a monastic settlement that my buddies insisted we skip. But it is free, I implored -nope no dice. Grumble, grumble, grumble -let's go have a Miller Time eh? Pub food and a good night's sleep followed and then it was:  On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer to Dublin...but not before...the hunt for a transportation museum.

The Big Fella thought he'd found a transportation museum just up or down the road from Cashel but supposedly on the way to Dublin. Right. I figured with all of the cathedrals, castles, rural roads and sheep on this leg of our adventure, he was in museum withdrawals and there was no harm in spending some time at one transportation museum. Right. The Navigator did her job and found the town and within the town the intersection where this museum was reportedly located. This was quite a feat due to the one way streets, and lack of signage for the said attraction. Alas, the museum was not where it was supposed to be. Hmmm what could this mean? It had been moved. Yours truly asked a letter carrier if the museum had closed. Looking a bit puzzled he replied, that if we followed the road to Waterford (no inkling from him just which way Waterford was and no signs) go to a specific round-about and we could not miss it. The hunt for the transportation museum was on but which way was Waterford?  This became an aimless wander for us until finally a sign directed us and off we went. How we actually found the signage to Waterford remains a mystery. Certainly, the museum was close but what was the name of the round about(they give them names) and did he say how far away it was? A not so scenic side trip ensued and after a while the transportation museum was given up as a lost cause. Maybe next time  because Dublin called and the car needed to be returned to the airport before 4 PM., as driving in Dublin was nuts and public transportation would work just fine while we were there. With little consultation with the trip organizer -yours truly- my two traveling companions decided that we should first drop our bags at our accommodations in Dublin and then return the car to the airport. The conversation went a bit like this, " Navigator, should we check into the hotel and leave our bags before we return the car?" The Navigator responded, "Yes, and Dad I am all over this." Of course now it meant driving in and through Dublin. A very heavy sigh was heard from the back seat. Not the original plan but I told myself to be flexible.

To her credit, The Navigator did an excellent job plotting a course through the one way streets of Dublin. A bit of retracing was required due to those one way streets and right turn only lanes which produced some tense moments. It also does not help that not all streets are signed and street signs are on buildings not on posts and not always in normal sight lines-guess Dubliners always know where they are. Once safely parked in a garage a block or two from the hotel, The Big Fella uttered a couple of sharp words and the Navigator-with her big steel blue eyes flashing death rays- looked back and said, "Ok, I quit!"  It was Def Con critical. No, this cannot be happening -the car still needs to be returned to the airport!!!  The Navigator could not abandon ship and it was obvious she was none too happy with the Dadster .Okie dokie now what? Diplomacy. Yours truly complimented the Navigator on her skill at getting us to our destination while at the same time giving The Big Fella the benefit of the doubt. I muttered something about it being stressful and how I could not possibly have done either the driving nor the map reading and please oh please don't leave me in the lurch. Mission accomplished. We dropped our luggage and headed out into pre-rush hour traffic to the airport. The car safely back at the rental return and your intrepid trekkers safely back in the hotel, a Miller Time -much deserved at that- was had.  It's all good -and oh heck a Pub Crawl really seemed in order.

Gogerty's Pub was the start point (three pubs were visited) for our traditional Irish Music Pub Crawl and what a hoot.  Two accomplished "trad" musicians -guitar and flute- introduced we crawlers to Irish instruments, Irish music history and  Irish story telling. Audience participation is part of the experience and whoops are considered great compliments and encouraged so long as the music is not drown out. Foot tapping is Ok, but try not to clap with the music because clappers tend to lose interest in the clapping part and suddenly realize that no one else is clapping and it is awkward. The audience is encouraged to join in the singing, tell a story or two, and of course whoop to show appreciation. We were schooled on jigs, reels, and slow airs and believe it or not polkas.There are only three traditional Irish instruments -can ya guess what they are? I'll tell ya: celtic harp, bodhrán, and uilleann pipes. (elbow pipes/bag pipes) Many thought the tin whistle fiddle and flute were "trad" instruments but as was explained, for centuries the Irish have used/adapted other instruments in their music. Not only was this session fun but educational. At the conclusion we were all invited to a real "trad" session at a nearby pub where both our musicians were playing along with a fiddler, harpist, bodhran player, and others These sessions are often last minute things put together these days via text message. We decided -heck yes let's go it's free! We made our way through a very crowded and noisy pub to the back room where the musicians sat in a corner. The pub noise was a bit distracting but what a treat to hear this wonderful music played so beautifully. An enjoyable evening capped off a hectic day. Yay!

Sight seeing was the focus of our second and last day in Dublin.It was pre-decided that we begin with the National  Museum of Decorative Arts and History. It is a branch of the National Museum and is housed in the Collins Barracks - an 18th century military installation. We spent the entire day exploring the portion of the museum devoted to Irish military history -of course. This also included a section on the 1916 uprising and the Irish civil war. The museum also holds a sail boat which was used as a gun runner to supply the IRA with weapons. All of it was quite interesting but by closing time I was done. Stick a fork in me done - time to call it a day - get back to the hotel -and begin packing for the  return trip home. This trip was coming to an end...

 

One more post to wrap things up is on its way.

Zipping around from here to there

I am so far behind  and have so much territory to cover.   Put up your feet and  grab a Guinness...We said goodbye to Westport  -destination Ennis County Clare with drives through the Burren, a stop at the Cliffs of Moher -pronounced More so why did they put an 'H' in there- and finally our B&B in Ennis County Clare.

We were told the weather was going to be Ok even though there was mist and wind as we left. Onward we went into the elements. We're Seattlites what's a little rain. Plus, the rain and wind guaranteed the car ride was going to be interesting -er I mean added to the adventure- er I mean made it all the more luvly.

No dual carriage roads on this ride, it was two lane rural roads all the way and of course on some occasions those two lanes became one lane which prompted yours truly to lean to the right to ward off the foliage that's ever so close to the left side of the vehicle. Anyhoo, the first stop was The Burren in County Clare - a rocky barren place somewhat due to prehistoric peoples clear cutting the area. A stark contrast to the the rest of the Emerald Isle, and it seems haunted and for good reason. A table like rock structure that the locals call a Druid altar, is just off the road via a short walk. Actually, it is a passage tomb or Dolman and is thousands of years old. The Burren is littered with the relics of people that inhabited this area long ago. This coupled with the landscape gives it an other worldly-like atmosphere.  The drive through the Burren was steep with blind curves and yes, The Fella drove them too fast. Ok,  just call me granny. Lean to the left! Lean to the right! Do you see that sheep! Tractor off the port bow and a big truck comin' at ya. Land ho, ahoy matey be still my bladder and heart. Where was I...we opted to skip the Burren visitor center and pressed on to the Cliffs of Moher- remember its said More with high hopes that the weather would lift. As we closed in on the Cliffs, the visibility was soupy and wet. The conditions worsened with each mile and by the time we arrived it was not worth the admission fee to sit in the parking lot and imagine what we were missing. We were welcome to purchase the ticket and it would be honored for a year. Um no, maybe next time- there is always next time.

A bit of an update here... the Navigator and The Big Fella worked through their communication issues. Yes! Although, she likes reading in the car and I don't know how she manages this without getting nauseous but it has created some tense moments. You know like when a round-a-bout pops-up!  The back seat navigator is then pressed into service and well, I am usually on it -ahem. Digression over...

Disappointed that the Cliffs were invisible we pressed on to our B&B in Ennis..

Ennis is a village in County Clare with a tangle of narrow one way streets that were decked out in Clare colors (yellow and blue) to celebrate County Clare's victory in the all Ireland hurling competition. I am not 100% sure what hurling is but it might be a cross between field hockey, baseball, and soccer. And there is a good possibility it is a contact sport -so its bound to be messy.  Back to Ennis...it is a fairly good sized town but not someplace where you would expect to find a Thai restaurant. Here in the middle of Ireland no less, and there are at least two Thai restaurants -maybe more. Of course we dined at one of them and the food was quite tasty. I asked the owner what brought him to Ireland. His response was to tell me the name of his home town in Thailand. Maybe my brogue-less English tripped him up. We did not expect good Thai food in Ireland so a pleasant surprise it was! Changing subjects...

Staying in bed and breakfasts has some real advantages. The other guests are often quite chatty at breakfast and offer tips about where they've been and what to avoid. We have done the same. At Ennis we met a man named John who was born in Dublin but lived in Spain and was back for an extended visit. John shuffled into the breakfast room apologizing as he was in a bit of pain. Apparently, he'd fallen out of bed while staying in the Aran Islands.While he did not explain how or why he fell out of bed, John did talk a bit about his life wincing with pain when he moved wrong. We wished him well and a speedy recovery from the back injury. Oh, and John is 85. More about John in an upcoming post because Dingle is on the agenda.

The Big Fella  perused the brochures at the B&B in Ennis and found a Flying Boat Museum in Foyle. Only about an hour from where we stayed but not really on the way to Dingle, this could be trouble. The plan was to take the ferry across the River Shannon from Clare to Dingle. Our B&B host pointed out to us that really Foyle was not that far from the Dingle side of the river and... Ah nuts, the Tank Museum is coming back to haunt me. The Big Fella then asked his traveling companions what we thought?  Diplomacy is required in these kinds of situations, so the Navigator eye rolls and then blurts, "No Dad!" Yours truly mumbled something about the time and we'd see once we were across the river and tried to force smile. The Fella then looked at us, shrugged and said it wasn't that important. Hoo boy that was a close one.  So we set off for Dingle with no stop at the Flying Boat Museum and a sunny day to boot.

What can I say about the Slea Head drive -Dingle Penninsula-but wow. Prior to starting the drive, we stopped in Dingle town for lunch and an interesting lunch it was. The cafe owner was shall we say, unique and quite possibly a flower child in another life. Upon entering the eatery, he was assembling one of those dipping birds. Hmmm..

 

There were assorted things for sale in the cafe -mostly from India where the owner spends four months a year. Think patchouli oil. The trek to the restroom was through his garden to the garden shed that doubled as the loo. The food was good and conversation with the owner was an experience all on its own. Full of food and ready for Slea Head we were on our way.

Slea Head drive rivals California 1 and the Oregon Coast (via 101.) But unlike those two, much of  it is one lane. It is stunning and has a little bit of everything to keep one engaged -from a stone age ring fort to beehive huts that look like rock igloos. Sunshine and clear skies provided gorgeous views and Skellig Michael (an island in the distance) and the Blasket Islands were visible. The Blasket Island visitor's center provides the history of the islands and its people. The Gallarus Oratory built 1300 yrs ago  of stone and resembles an upturned  hull of a ship. The drive is ruins and beautiful scenery, a winding one lane road, and takes 3-4 hours to do.  The Navigator kept her eyes on the road for this one and kept the Big Fella from hitting a few sheep and the dog herding them."Slow down! Dad, Dad, Dad! Dog!" Our B&B was one that I stayed in 1997.  It was owned by the same family which was a nice surprise for yours truly. Set just outside of town with a great view of Dingle Bay upon arrival we were ready for dinner a good night's sleep. We found a great pub. A very restful night was had by all.  Breakfast was home made scones which were way too yummy.  I had two. Yes, its true -two scones with jam to go along with the full Irish breakfast. Can you say calories?!? Wish we'd had two nights there just for the scones but Cashel called and we were off after breakfast. More driving, more rural roads, more teeth gritting! 

Stay tuned,Cashel and the Rocky Road to Dublin are next up.

Nothing in particular

Road signs:
Slow bends
Three exclamation points with the word slow underneath (do not ignore this warning)
Safe Crossing at Zebra Stripes
ramps ahead=speed bumps
picture of a sheep or cow means they can be standing around on the road, crossing the road one at a time or in small groups or being herded across the road by a dog

More driving stuff:
Tractors and tractors pulling trailers of stuff -like spuds- are slow- very very slow.
As a passenger in the back seat I find myself leaning to the right, as if this is going to help the car avoid hitting the hedges and walls.
I close my eyes a bit while on the narrow roads.

Somethings never change:
Fungi the dolphin still lives in Dingle Bay -Fungi was there 16 yrs ago.

Random observations:
Most if not all of the B&B's and hotels did not have a clock in the room or had a clock that did not work. True in both the U.K. and Ireland. One B&B owner told us that her guests take the batteries?
The Irish have a different concept of time. They are not in a hurry except when they walk. I do remember this from my last visit.
The Irish walk alot and on all of the roads. They also drive really fast on their roads.
A expression one hears frequently is, 'please god.' Not sure if it is a question or statement.

The low flying couch was in a small cafe in Dingle, County Kerry. The cafe owner was shall we say, unique.

Pedaling as fast as I can -catching up: Irish wedding in Westport, Contae Mheigh Eo

These days Irish weddings can last many hours and sometimes a couple of days. Ok I was a bit nervous when I learned that returning to one's hotel room to take a nap or freshen up is not uncommon. Egads, a nap?!?? What on earth?!? I'll do my best here to recount this part of the adventure. I cannot include everything but I'll giver 'er a go.

First up the night before the wedding, a rehearsal takes place at the church. While there is no rehearsal dinner, the groom's family hosted a get together in the hotel bar. -starting at about 9:30PM. It is not an all night affair but an opportunity for the groom and his family to gather  and chill a bit before the big day. I met yet another Irish second cousin at this event so I was happy.  The wedding itself was a typical Catholic Nuptial Mass -the marriage happens in the middle of the service. Some of the service was in Gaelic but I won't elaborate other than I had no freaking idea what prayers were being said. But the service is just the warm up for the reception -which is a long, happy, wild, celebration. It starts with a champagne reception for the guests. The happy couple is off taking pictures. About 45-60 mins. later the newly weds arrive and a bell rings (old school bell) and calling all for dinner-the wedding started at one PM and the dinner bell rang at 5 PM. Ok, then a sumptuous meal is served -liquor is served but is not mandatory. Dinner  lasts more than an hour. Then come the speeches from both Dads and the groomsmen - and after each speech is a champagne toast. Dessert follows this but not wedding cake?!?? WHAT?! NO CAKE OH NO. While dessert is served the band is setting up for their 10PM start time. No it's too late to start dancing, I'm tired, but to quote my mother-in law used, it was hardly dark out! The dancing that followed can be hazardous to your health. It was fast and fun and everyone is out there flailing away -except for the Big Fella. His dance chops aren't what they used to be and was content to watch the merriment. I danced and my ankle was not happy about it but what the heck. The music was good and I could not hold back my happy feet.

With the first set done, the banquet staff were ready with more food. More food???? This time sandwiches, finger foods and petite fours. Tea and coffee are offered but liquor remains available. At this point my ankle is sore, the feet are swollen, and I am getting pretty darned tired. Alas call me a party pooper but I left during the second set. The traveling companions hung in there for a bit longer. But the party is not over yet...

Once the band finished a DJ took over and the disco began -1 AM folks. A little birdie told me that the party continued until 5 AM or so and ended with the guys doing a bit of Irish dancing. Now that I would've liked to see. The newly weds stayed until the very end and were seen at breakfast the next day at around 9:30-10 AM but looked to be in a trance. But it ain't over yet...

After breakfast the Baties and a couple others decided to go for a drive in the Connemara to enjoy the scenery of the area, but were instructed to be back by 7 PM. Another gathering was scheduled at a pub close-by. Oy,oy,oy I don't know how they do it! There was beer and food at the pub and great conversation and a bit of debriefing re: the speeches. Two days after the wedding we bid adieu to all -happy for the couple, happy to experience an Irish wedding, happy to still be in Ireland and happy to move to the next phase of our adventure to rest up.

More to come...a drive through the Burren, the foggy Cliffs of Moher, Dingle, dogs, more sheep, and eating hedges from the passenger side of the car

Random ramblings from Ennis, County Clare

Comment by the Big Fella, "Whoever laid out these streets must have been drunk.

Doire (Derry) to Dún na nGall (Donegal)

My last visit to Ireland was in 1997 and was still a time of sporadic violence. The border between the North and South was heavily fortified.  The crossing involved a serpentine road, tall prison like walls with barbed wire and towers where British soldiers with large guns had their sights trained on the road below. It was unnerving. Visitng the city of Derry-in Northern Ireland- did not even cross my mind at that time. Never Surrender was the motto of those loyal to the British Monarchy.

This time Derry was on the itinerary. To get the most out of our time there we opted for a guided walking tour which helped put the things in perspective.  John our delightful tour guide who at times was hard to understand -darn that brogue- was quite knowledgeable about the history and politics of the  troubles, and the current uneasy peace. Derry seems to be making positive steps forward.  At any rate at times I missed a bit and was not entirely sure John was speaking English. The three of us would look at at each other and shrug shoulders. Sometimes a whisper, "did you get that?" None-the-less it was worth the time.

A short ride to Donegal for a visit to the ancestral home was next up.

My grandfather was born in the townland of Meenboy which is near a larger town named Gortahork. This is in the Gaeltacht region of Ireland and prior to his immigration to the U.S., my grandfather spoke Irish as his habitual language. All signage -road, businesses, and government buildings-is in Gaelic. This can be a bit confusing especially while driving but you get used to it and everyone speaks English.  Gortahork is a very rural area. where old walking paths were turned into NARROW wagon roads. These old paths were not designed with the automobile in mind. Buildings and fences are quite close to the road -sometimes the houses appear to be in the road- and difficult to impossible for two cars to pass each other on these things. Soooo it is prudent to take them at a slower speed than what might be posted.  You know where this is leading. Sooo, unfazed the Big Fella drove some of them like the Irish which can be a life altering experience.   But when you drive so fast that it scares a native born Irishman - I just don't know what to say.  My Irish cousin mentioned to The Fella that he might take it a bit slower. Could've had something to do with the house and stone wall  hiding behind a blind corner that he nearly hit. At one point my cousin offered me the front seat and I politely declined. I preferred the view from the back seat. 

Like the last time I visited the old Cannon place, I was struck with how very old it felt. The stark peak, Mt Errigal loomed over the old place and the peat bogs were nearby.  On this visit -and I know this seems a little out there- I had a sense of belonging to this place. Weird I know but so it was. After Mr. Toad's wild ride in the wilds of Donegal, we enjoyed a nice dinner with family and retired to the sitting room with a peat log burning in the fireplace. 'Twas quite nice.

I get very sentimental about Meenboy and this part of Donegal. Two days was not enough time here and I will be back someday.

Ireland: the narrowest roads in the world and sheep with racing stripes and castles in the air

Edinburgh to Belfast via Easyjet really was easy. Based on the advice from the locals,we arrived at the airport 2 hours in advance of our 11:30 flight.  But with barely one half hour in the air, we spent more time on the ground than actual flying. Our Anna met us at the Hertz counter and off we went for the -gulp and God help us- driving portion of this Moose and Mosquito adventure. The Big Fella is not a new comer to driving on the left side of the road -you might recall New Zealand? Hoo boy, well Ireland is an entirely different sort of experience.  The heavily traveled dual carriageways are OK until a roundabout (roust about) appears and that's when the fun begins. Multiple lanes on these so-called traffic managers means close communication between the driver and the navigator is required. Much jockeying for position occurs and if the opportunity to get in the proper lane passes, around you go again -a bit like "Charlie on the MTA," you might never get off! The solution? One option is to  get off on the wrong exit hang a u-turn somewhere and try to set up better on the return through... The first day was shall we say a bit tense. For example, "Dad you were supposed to go left." and The Fella replies, "You didn't tell me to go left." The navigator then says, "I told you to take the exit for the N59. Weren't you watching the signs?" The Fella says, "No, I don't watch for signs. I am trying to concentrate on not hitting anything and staying in the correct lane." The Navigator sighs, "Dad how do you manage driving in a strange place?" "Well," he says "mom is usually with me."  The Navigator gives yours truly the evil eye and says, "Mom you can navigate tomorrow." Busted! I gave the navigator a sheepish grin.  The rural roads are usually without round abouts but are narrow -as in not room for two cars to pass narrow- and full of bends and blind curves. There are some 2-lane roads and the Irish drive them at break neck speeds.  If there is a shoulder, slower cars will move over and allow traffic by but it is the custom to slow down if you move to the shoulder. Pedestrians and bicycles also use the shoulder. There were shouts from the back seat just to gently remind The Fella to SLOW DOWN! 

There were a few frayed nerves but we made it to our destination which was the seaside town of Portrush and the biggest room we stayed in the entire trip.    The County Antrim Coast is very dramatic and we stopped for a few pictures and a short hike in a forest.

Two nights in Portrush allowed us to visit The Giant's Causeway, Bushmills Distillery, and the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge. The Giant's Causeway is the site of volcanic activity that occurred many centuries ago. The guided tour really helped us to understand the geology of the area but the myths are more fun. Finn McCool was a giant and he was having a disagreement with another giant who lived in Scotland. The Reader's Digest version: the two giants threw boulders at each other creating the dramatic scenery of The Giant's Causeway. Finn McCool won the battle. Now go google Finn McCool. Next stop Bushmills Distillery which believe it or not is in the Village of Bushmills. The tour is interesting and The Big Fella enjoyed it and asked all kinds of questions about the process -much to the consternation of a group of non English speaking tourists (German perhaps) as they they understood very little and were clearly waiting/wanting for the tasting bit at the end.  One of The Fella's questions was, "What's the difference between Scotch and whiskey." To which the tour guide responded, "the spelling."  Much to the delight of the non English speakers the tour came to an end and yes, a wee sample is offered. I opted for the 12 yr old whiskey as did The Fella -the navigator had a Hot Toddy. It was mighty fine tasting stuff. Bushmills conquered it was time for a trip to the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge. This is a rope bridge once used by fishermen to get themselves and boats into the water. It crosses a chasm between the mainland and a rock. Unfortunately, the wind had kicked up while we were at Bushmills. The bridge was closed due to the high winds and gusts which nearly laid me flat. We were able to walk down to it for a look which we did.   A brief stop at Dunluce Castle for the ruins.  It dates to medieval times. Apparently 17th century building inspectors missed the lack of structural reinforcement needed to keep this thing perched on a rock outcropping. One stormy evening in 1639 half of the kitchen area collapsed into the ocean below. Yes, there were people who went down with the kitchen. This unfortunate event caused the lady of the house to pack up and leave -can't blame her.

Sheep are a common sight here and sometimes they gather on the sides of the road doing their sheepy thing. You know looking for the best grass or getting a good spot to view the passing cars. What you notice -immediately- is the stripe or dab of paint on each one. Because herds sometimes mingle a bit on the commonage (open range) their owners put an identifying mark of spray paint on their bodies somewhere -sometimes two or three colors. One enterprising owner used a bright yellow on the entire hind end. Those guys really stood out. Felt a bit sorry for them really  -there is no hiding behind your buddy from the next heard to avoid the sheep dog.

The day ended for us with Guinness and pub food. And a good night's sleep was had.

Up next,the drive to dear old Donegal via Derry an Irish wedding and more. I am running about 2 days behind but stay tuned.

Edinburgh Part II : Name that smell, what the heck is a Rebus Tour, Holyrood, and....

After a gourmet breakfast, we set out to experience another day in Edinburgh.  Gladstone's Land, a Rebus Tour (huh?) and Holyrood Palace. Gladstone's Land is a 16th -17th century house/rooms/ apartments and is quite interesting. Some of the original interior decoration (ceiling painting) survives. Life during that time could be harsh and sanitation nonexistent. Be very thankful for plumbing, sewage treatment, garbage pick-up etc. Dodging hazardous waste was part of day to day life. From the stuff being hurled from the windows- chamber pots dirty dishwater garbage- to the garbage/sewage -human and animal- already present on the street, it must have been quite the obstacle course to do a bit of window shopping in Gladstone's Land.  Hmmm, wonder if that's where the expression,"Look out below!" originated. And since it was believed that bathing was unhealthy-, your family, friends and neighbors were on the nose- as they say. Not to be left out is the menagerie farm animals, and pets that lived both outdoors and  indoors. It was shall we say a bit of a noxious stew on the street, and a really really malodorous environment.
We finished with Gladstone's Land just in time for a Rebus Tour.OK, yours truly did not read the brochure details closely enough and what I thought was a historic tour through some of the back alleys was a tour of the places in a book series written by a Scotsman by the name of Ian Rankin. The main character is a seasoned detective in the Edinburgh police name John, wait for it, here it comes, you'll never guess it.. Rebus. Here it is again in case you forgot, John Rebus. Apparently, the series is very popular but I'd never heard of it. And if I'd not heard of it, you can be darned sure The Big Fella was not an avid fan. I knew that something was not right when our first stop was the backside of the city morgue.  Our guide, Colin Brown was quite entertaining as he walked us through Detective Rebus' haunts stopping from time to time to read passages from various books from the series. Not what we were expecting-lots of eye rolling from the Big Fella and nuts no stops that included military hardware-but we made the best of it and found a pretty good lunch stop before heading on to our next stop -Holyrood Palace.

When the Queen stays in Edinburgh, it is at Holyrood Palace. It is a grand place with beautiful grounds and opulent rooms. We walked into the King's bedroom -however it is unlikely that a royal ever slept there -although there was a bed in it. The room was used  to receive guests and conduct official business. A peak into the room where Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to her son James IV who later became King James I of England -I think. As I said before, a road map would be helpful to keep all of these people straight. And of course Mary was executed by her half sister Elizabeth I. Families are funny, no? Exiting the palace is a glorious view of Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags. What a great place for a palace- location, location,location!  Now on to...

Our last full day in Edinburgh and the goal was Arthur's Peak. It's hikeable and yes even with my bum wheel I did it -with an assist from my walking stick. The sunny skies brought out many with the same idea but there was enough room at the top for all to enjoy the 360 degree view of the city and The Firth of Forth. In a hunt for the "easy way down" we encountered a lovely woman named Jenny also trying to located the easy way down. Jenny had about 10-15 yrs on us and in great shape.  Off we went until the trail came to an abrupt end that came with two choices: 1. meadow scramble straight up where we knew the "hard way" was or turn around and try again. This time taking a slightly different path headed us in the wrong direction. The Big Fella was prepared with a compass but no map-because there wasn't one- and we found our way back to the road. Jenny stayed with us until she arrived at her bus stop. Funny though we did not introduce ourselves until the end of the journey. Then we were off again to find...

Souvenirs! Back to the Royal Mile we went where we had a most unusual encounter with a shop owner. Curmudgeon really is what he was. He insulted customers, told me I was stupid for not knowing the ingredients of Haggis, went on about the Masonic Lodge a bit, asked me if I belonged to the Eastern Star. When I said nope I didn't think Catholics were allowed, he bristled. Apparently,the organization was founded by Catholics and Jews. Huh? I haven't googled it yet but by this time my head was spinning, the Big Fella chose to remain silent -probably a good thing. I bought a can of Haggis and left. A final bit of slow wandering on the Royal Mile and our days in Edinburgh were done. Oh, boy do I ever want to come back to Scotland. Next time it will be to the Highlands and maybe a wee bit of Edinburgh too as we barely scratched the surface of what is here to see and do.

Next up Ireland!

Ireland - County Antrim

Edinburgh Part II is on the way but we are now in Ireland. OK, alright yes I am getting ahead of myself but just could not resist.