Belfast

Today we drove up to Belfast. It's only about 50 minutes away. We went on a tour and the commentator gave us a terrific history lesson which was perfectly enhanced by all the sites along the way. First stop were the dockyards where the Titanic was constructed. It was launched exactly 100 years ago today, so there was a big ceremony at the docks. We drove through both the Catholic and Protestant neighbourhoods with their political murals, gates, and high fences. It was quite interesting.

Have a look at the photo below. Blur your eyes and follow the ridge along the top of the cliffs. Can you see a man's forehead, nose, eye, mouth and chin? Apparently, this is what Jonathan Swift saw and what inspired him to write Gulliver's Travels:



JOKE I FORGOT TO TELL YOU:
Here's another joke from the Dublin bus driver. As we passed the old trainyards, he pointed to a big warehouse owned by an American movie studio. He named all the films that had been made there--Italian Job, a mini-series, etc.--and then he told us that Ireland was doing a remake of Silence of the Lambs. It's going to be called, "Shutup, you'se!"

Dublin

Dublin, in the Republic of Ireland, is only about an hour and a half away from Armagh. We parked in a suburb called Malahide and took rapid transit into the city. Then we climbed aboard a "hop on, hop off" tour bus and had a tour of the city. It was quite impressive, but the best part was the tour around the Guinness factory where the bus driver hiccupped and drove eratically while singing. While waiting in traffic, he told lots of jokes: example--This man takes his dog to the vet because the dog appears to be cross-eyed. The vet picks up the dog, looks at him this way and that, over and under, and says "I'm going to have to put him down." The guy, astonished, says "Why, doctor?" to which the vet replies, "because he's too heavy."

Here's a photo of Don beside a statue of James Joyce:

Royal Portrush

Yesterday we drove two hours north to Portrush, the home of pro golfer Graeme McDowell and the championship golf course Royal Portrush. This was a "links" course (built along the coast and nestled amongst sand dunes). Here's a photo:



So after four hours of walking, we decided to visit the Giant's Causeway where we walked another half hour (downhill) along the coast to see some amazing rock formations. These "rock columns" were formed by lava deposits 50 million years ago. The walk back up to the car-park, uphill and against the wind, was hard on our already-aching leg muscles, so we hopped in the car, found a pub in a small village nearby, sat in front of the fire, and self-medicated with some Guinness.

The Quiet Man

No, I don't mean Don.

One of our favourite movies is The Quiet Man starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. Don has seen it about 40 times and has been known, after several glasses of wine at dinner parties, to re-enact the entire movie, Irish accents and all, to the amusement of strangers and abject embarrassment of wife and daughters. All this to say that we went on a tour of Cong, the west Ireland town where it was filmed. It was good Don was there because he was able to correct the tour guide on several occasions (okay, he didn't correct her, but he did add additional information. He told me later that he actually restrained himself because he could have said a lot more, and that he intends, in retirement, to work summer months as a golf marshall in Ottawa and winter months as a tour guide in Cong).

To prove that absolutely nothing embarrasses me, here's a photo of Don and me dressed up as the lead characters in the re-created cottage--White 'o Morn--from the film. (I think I may have picked up the rug instead of the shawl):



That's the sort of photo with which a person could be blackmailed.

My back teeth were swimming

Have you ever gone on a car trip during which you know you should have gone before, but you didn't feel like it and now here you are an hour from any potential relief station, searching the horizon desperately for a little forest but instead finding only neatly-manicured hedges, highway on one side, cute little Irish cottage on the other, or fields of cows and sheep lazily grazing, free to empty their bladders without moving an inch, looking at you unsympathetically from behind forbidding fences that offer no entrance to the poor soul who is beginning to sweat whilst crossing legs and gritting teeth until finally, you turn a corner in the middle of nowhere and see this:



It is at a time like this that you'll pay $10 for a cup of coffee and think it was the bargain of the century.

Four season golfing

No, I don't mean golfing in spring, summer, winter and fall. I mean golfing on one day during which you experience sunshine, rain, hail, and winds strong enough to knock over your golf cart. This made golfing very challenging, and challenging is the last thing I need when I'm golfing. It was a very beautiful course, though, and the homemade soup, bread and cider after the game was wonderful!

Here's a picture of me in my new golf jacket/fleece vest/wooley cap/wind pants. No wonder I can't swing a club!!

Exploring Yeats country

Yesterday we set out for Sligo on the west coast. This was the home of the poet W.B.Yeats. Here's a short poem of his. Perhaps it refers to the fact that he was in love with a woman, Maud Gonne, for almost 30 years. He asked her to marry him 5 times and was rejected every time. Finally, when he was 52 years old, he married another woman:

O DO NOT LOVE TOO LONG

by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

SWEETHEART, do not love too long:
I loved long and long,
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.

All through the years of our youth
Neither could have known
Their own thought from the other's,
We were so much at one.

But O, in a minute she changed--
O do not love too long,
Or you will grow out of fashion
Like an old song.

Today we stayed in due to the 70 mph winds that kept Don from golfing. (He waited until 6:30 in the evening and then headed up the hill to the course!) It was fun watching Obama visiting Moneygall--it's only a couple hours from here.
I thought I'd post a picture for McKenna. She loves horses, and at our first cottage in Ireland, the one facing the water, you could go horse-riding from one side of the bay to the other when the tide was out. I took these photos from our living room:

Sunday, May 22

After 18 holes of golf in Armagh at 6:30 in the morning, we set out to visit Carlingford, a medieval town along the coast of the Irish Sea about 40 minutes from Armagh. It was PACKED full of tourists (don'tcha just hate tourists when you're on holiday?). We found a cute little pub for lunch down a narrow, cobblestone street where we had Chicken Goujons and Caesar Salad (the former are spicy chicken strips). The best part of the meal was the scone I had as the finale--hot from the oven and served with a pot of fresh clotted cream and jam. Here's a picture of us on the sea wall.

Saturday, May 21

Today was a day to decompress. Don walked up to the golf course early in the morning, and I spent the day watching t.v., surfing the net and doing short errands up to the shops. I really like British t.v. I watched everything from first-rate documentaries about murderers who have tried to commit the perfect crime to cheezy t.v. movies about Elvis and the Partridge Family (two separate shows, not one show--although that would have been a neat idea). Here's a picture of our place in Armagh. We're the home with the green door. Our landlady owns the flower shop.

Friday, May 20

Today we left at 6:30 a.m. and drove through the rain to Seapoint Golf Course on the Irish Sea. It was cold, raining, and windy and I had on about four layers of clothing. Seapoint was an evil course and I lost about four balls, but I found two so I didn’t feel so bad. The best part of the game, for me, was the Pro Shop after we’d finished; I bought myself a golf jacket and vest. I KNEW I liked golfing!!



After the game we searched all over for a country pub and were rewarded. Daly`s, a little pub in the middle of nowhere, was offering a `carvery`--roast beef, mashed and roasted potatoes, carrots, squash, gravy. We pigged out but the way I figure it, I used up about 1000 calories walking around the golf course, so I needed a gigantic caloric intake to maintain the status quo. I bought a giant apple cinnamon muffin a couple hours later, so I`m in the red at the moment!
After our lunch we went to Bru Na Boinne, a 5000-year-old settlement. What you see in the picture below is a burial chamber. The settlers—the first farmers in Ireland—lived in tepee-like structures all around this mound. This is one of those Indiana-Jones deals where, during a 17-minute period during the winter solstice, the otherwise pitch black chamber is infused by the light of the sun streaming through a small opening. The inside of the chamber was wicked cool. The guide even turned off the lights inside and "simulated" the light of sun streaming in. She speculated that the villagers only ever ventured in here twice a year during the solstices and eagerly awaited these occasions. Don and I were thinking the same; what if it were cloudy? We didn't say anything for fear of the others regarding us as American upstarts.

Glenveagh National Park

Back in the northwest of Ireland. This was a gorgeous drive with great views. Here’s a picture of Don NOT golfing:

Back online

I’m sorry that I encouraged you all to follow my non-existent blog. I’ve been having a heck of time finding an internet connection. I’ve finally found the Armagh library/high school computer lab, where I now sit amongst about thirty teenage boys in school uniforms wondering who the heck I am. Yes, I’m embarrassed, but I’ll do anything for my blog followers.

Last Sunday morning we took a drive to Londonderry (called simply Derry by the Irish), a walled city. We walked along the wall until we spotted a small café (every other store was closed). We feasted on homemade scones hot from the oven, amazing coffee, and goat cheese/asparagus/filo pastries. Then it was off for a drive along the northwestern coast of Ireland where the views were spectacular.

We finished our stay in Dunfanaghy with 18 holes of golf on the course close to our cottage. Because it was right on the water and the weather wasn’t great, we played in gale-force winds and rain. When I got to the 18th tee (right next to our cottage), I abandoned Don, ran home, jumped into a steaming hot shower, made a cup of tea, and watched Coronation Street. Best 18th hole ever.

Don wanted me to take a picture of his good side.



Behind Don is the evil 10th hole at Armagh Golf Course. It’s a steep ascent to the obelisk at the top. I can barely walk it let alone swing a club at the same time. Anyway, this evil par 5 has caused me no end of trouble, so I must conquer it. Don, always helpful, recommends that I should 1) not hit the ball into a bunker that’s three feet in front of me, and 2) once out of that bunker, not hit the ball into the bunker beside it, and 3) get new glasses. He’s very encouraging.

A drive along Ireland’s north east coast.



Sure, I could have shown you lovely pictures of the Irish Sea, waves crashing, giant luxury ferries shuttling holiday-makers from England to Belfast, but I thought you’d rather see the mural from the pub we visited for lunch. Notice the little tyke in the bottom left corner. He was VERY interested in the lady with the funny accent taking a picture of the Bare Naked Ladies (I think that’s the name of the painting, but I could be wrong). The other thing that distinguished this pub from all others I've visited was the food. I had THE WORST SANDWICH OF MY LIFE here. I had, innocently enough, ordered a roast beef sandwich with pickle and horseradish. Imagine taking a mixing bowl and throwing in miracle whip, relish, horseradish AND NO ROAST BEEF and then slathering this mixture on some bread. Not only did it drip all over me, but it tasted ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING. The meal was redeemed by the soup which was fair to middling, but fantastic in comparison to the main course. Of course I told the waitress it was delicious and I left her a nice tip, all while Don was rolling his eyes at me.

Enough complaining. Here's a shot of Don in our Nissan Qashqai. I can't pronounce it, but it's a really nice car.

Day 1- Beach House

This will have to be quick. I'm in an Internet cafe and my time is short! Flight was fine but despite arming myself with neck pillow, earplugs, eye-mask, wine and gravol, was unable to sleep. Nevertheless, helped Don navigate up to the northwestern corner of Ireland to Dunfanaghy, pronounced DUN-FA-NEY, not Dunfineggy, as we originally thought, much to our embarrassment! Went to pub last night to see a talent show, but after a lager and an Irish rendition of King of the Road, I was well knackered and had to go home to bed. Had a great sleep, though! Hoping to golf today to see if I suck in yet another country! This photo is the view from our living room window. Tide is out, but that's Sheep Haven Bay in front, and the Atlantic ocean in behind.

Little Does He Know (Again)

Here's our little baby dreaming of rabbit-chasing in the fields of rural Ottawa. Little does he know that two days from now, we'll be leaving him yet again for our three-week vacation in Ireland. This time he will be going to an overnight camp in Napanee where counsellor Ian will give him lots of hugs and kisses and walks. Also, he can terrorize -- or be terrorized by -- the two cats that live with Ian. Fun times!!