Start: Strandhill
End: The Apparently Handicap-Accessible Room at
Kinlay House in Galway, Co. Galway
We got up a bit early this morning because we were eager to get on the road. This, of course, bit us in the behind, since our hostess didn’t get up until 0840, which meant we spent almost an hour cooling our heels in the dining room. I know, I know- we should have arranged early checkout last night. Except… we couldn’t find her last night. And, as it turns out, she wasn’t around (so we “should have left a note”, apparently. Now we know.).
At any rate we did get on the road before 0900, so it wasn’t so bad, but by the time we made it to the Cruachan Ai Heritage Center in Tulsk we were starving. Therefore, we decided to have breakfast before we went on our tour, and since we were going to have breakfast we decided to do it up in style and have a Full Irish Breakfast. Except that is a lot of food, so we each ordered a Half Irish Breakfast (only one of everything). Gentle Readers, it was still a lot of food (egg, sausage, “bacon”, toast, boxty, black pudding, white pudding, tomato, onions) which I was able to eat thanks to the miracle of Glutenflam (oh man you guys- I’d forgotten how delicious buttered toast is!). Yes, I even ate the puddings. Which are actually more like really dry sausages, and I’m going on record here to say that white pudding is better than black. So now you know, in case anyone ever asks you.
Neither one of us was able to eat the entire thing, but even so we didn’t get hungry again for almost eight hours. That’s compared to the two hours that a “continental” breakfast (eaten to the point of feeling full) generally affords us. Protein win.
We waddled out of that place and back over to the info center, where we were first sent to sit in the dark and watch a film strip. It was a collection of shorter films run on a loop, and some of them had quite laughably poor animation. One of the less-poorly-animated ones seemed to be missing the soundtrack, however, so we watched in silence as a bunch of soldier silhouettes marched back and forth, and then a pair of bull silhouettes ran around until one killed the other and then… exploded.
“Why… why did the bull explode?” I asked Nathan. Nathan, who had thus far been relying on me for Irish-myth-related things, shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was pretty awesome.”
So we went back out into the main area and asked the lady who was to give us our tour, “Why did the bull explode?” and this is how I discovered that although I know a thing or two about Irish Fairy Tales, I know nothing about their legends.
(Long story short: the bull didn’t explode, his heart did, and it was from the stress of a full year’s worth of running around the whole of Ireland with a second bull caught on his horns. And they weren’t bulls as we know them, but aurochs. It’s complicated. And that's just the tip of it.)
The guide was super enthusiastic and we got a lot of asides that weren’t really tour-related but were fun nonetheless, and then she pointed me towards a book to read if I wanted to get a handle on the extremely complex cannon of Irish mythology (it’s now in my bag) and sent us on our way to tromp around looking at more rocks in fields. Which we did. And then we went to investigate Oweynagat, aka the Cave of Cats, aka entrance to the Otherworld (as opposed to Underworld- they are different). I was very excited about this, although we had a devil of a time actually finding the place. Once we did it rapidly became apparent that there was no way Nathan was going to be able to get in with his pack on his back (or possibly at all), so I volunteered to go in first and have him hand things to me.
I wriggled my way in past the initial entryway, to where things opened up just a smidge (still couldn’t sit up straight), and used the cell phone as a torch to looked deeper around the bend.
"Oh this is not happening,” I said. The tunnel sloped downward into pitch darkness, and remained too small for anything but a crawl. And I, Gentle Readers, I have a problem with small enclosed places, especially underground. Especially in the dark. Especially if my escape route is blocked by my much-larger-than-me husband, and there is no room to turn around. I got panicky just thinking about it, so as much as a part of me was deriding the rest of me for a coward, I satisfied myself with taking a few photos and then handed the phones back to Nathan so I could crawl back out. The Otherworld will just have to wait until I am braver. (Seriously my throat is closing up just a little as I think about it. Stupid irrational phobias.)
As we started back for the car I heard a tiny maybe-cat-noise, so I stopped where I was and echoed it while Nathan continued on. The cry came again, so I made mine again, and then I heard a rustling in the hedge. I moved around a little to see what I could see, and there was a flash of white- and then a true kitten-cry, and a little white-and-black kitten came trotting out to me, pleased as she could be!
“Oh you wee little thing!” I said (yes, I’ve officially been in Ireland long enough that I said “wee” in an unironic manner) and my mind immediately wondered how difficult it would be to smuggle a kitten back to the state. She demanded to be picked up, and I obliged, and generally felt great comfort that whatever spirit watches over the Cave of Cats wanted me to know that they approve of me in spite of my cowardice.
We got up a bit early this morning because we were eager to get on the road. This, of course, bit us in the behind, since our hostess didn’t get up until 0840, which meant we spent almost an hour cooling our heels in the dining room. I know, I know- we should have arranged early checkout last night. Except… we couldn’t find her last night. And, as it turns out, she wasn’t around (so we “should have left a note”, apparently. Now we know.).
At any rate we did get on the road before 0900, so it wasn’t so bad, but by the time we made it to the Cruachan Ai Heritage Center in Tulsk we were starving. Therefore, we decided to have breakfast before we went on our tour, and since we were going to have breakfast we decided to do it up in style and have a Full Irish Breakfast. Except that is a lot of food, so we each ordered a Half Irish Breakfast (only one of everything). Gentle Readers, it was still a lot of food (egg, sausage, “bacon”, toast, boxty, black pudding, white pudding, tomato, onions) which I was able to eat thanks to the miracle of Glutenflam (oh man you guys- I’d forgotten how delicious buttered toast is!). Yes, I even ate the puddings. Which are actually more like really dry sausages, and I’m going on record here to say that white pudding is better than black. So now you know, in case anyone ever asks you.
Neither one of us was able to eat the entire thing, but even so we didn’t get hungry again for almost eight hours. That’s compared to the two hours that a “continental” breakfast (eaten to the point of feeling full) generally affords us. Protein win.
We waddled out of that place and back over to the info center, where we were first sent to sit in the dark and watch a film strip. It was a collection of shorter films run on a loop, and some of them had quite laughably poor animation. One of the less-poorly-animated ones seemed to be missing the soundtrack, however, so we watched in silence as a bunch of soldier silhouettes marched back and forth, and then a pair of bull silhouettes ran around until one killed the other and then… exploded.
“Why… why did the bull explode?” I asked Nathan. Nathan, who had thus far been relying on me for Irish-myth-related things, shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was pretty awesome.”
So we went back out into the main area and asked the lady who was to give us our tour, “Why did the bull explode?” and this is how I discovered that although I know a thing or two about Irish Fairy Tales, I know nothing about their legends.
(Long story short: the bull didn’t explode, his heart did, and it was from the stress of a full year’s worth of running around the whole of Ireland with a second bull caught on his horns. And they weren’t bulls as we know them, but aurochs. It’s complicated. And that's just the tip of it.)
 |
| Yes that is totally a C. |
The guide was super enthusiastic and we got a lot of asides that weren’t really tour-related but were fun nonetheless, and then she pointed me towards a book to read if I wanted to get a handle on the extremely complex cannon of Irish mythology (it’s now in my bag) and sent us on our way to tromp around looking at more rocks in fields. Which we did. And then we went to investigate Oweynagat, aka the Cave of Cats, aka entrance to the Otherworld (as opposed to Underworld- they are different). I was very excited about this, although we had a devil of a time actually finding the place. Once we did it rapidly became apparent that there was no way Nathan was going to be able to get in with his pack on his back (or possibly at all), so I volunteered to go in first and have him hand things to me.
I wriggled my way in past the initial entryway, to where things opened up just a smidge (still couldn’t sit up straight), and used the cell phone as a torch to looked deeper around the bend.
"Oh this is not happening,” I said. The tunnel sloped downward into pitch darkness, and remained too small for anything but a crawl. And I, Gentle Readers, I have a problem with small enclosed places, especially underground. Especially in the dark. Especially if my escape route is blocked by my much-larger-than-me husband, and there is no room to turn around. I got panicky just thinking about it, so as much as a part of me was deriding the rest of me for a coward, I satisfied myself with taking a few photos and then handed the phones back to Nathan so I could crawl back out. The Otherworld will just have to wait until I am braver. (Seriously my throat is closing up just a little as I think about it. Stupid irrational phobias.)
As we started back for the car I heard a tiny maybe-cat-noise, so I stopped where I was and echoed it while Nathan continued on. The cry came again, so I made mine again, and then I heard a rustling in the hedge. I moved around a little to see what I could see, and there was a flash of white- and then a true kitten-cry, and a little white-and-black kitten came trotting out to me, pleased as she could be!
“Oh you wee little thing!” I said (yes, I’ve officially been in Ireland long enough that I said “wee” in an unironic manner) and my mind immediately wondered how difficult it would be to smuggle a kitten back to the state. She demanded to be picked up, and I obliged, and generally felt great comfort that whatever spirit watches over the Cave of Cats wanted me to know that they approve of me in spite of my cowardice.
The kitten was entirely too clean and
sweet-smelling (and unafraid of humans) to actually be available for
kitten-napping back to the states, so I let her go back into the hedge, and
Nathan and I continued on our merry way to Galway.
Right from the get-go Galway had a better feel to it than Dublin, and the next few hours only cemented that feeling in us. After dropping my pack off at Kinlay House (and marveling over the hugeness of the shower- complete with chair for sitting!) we headed over to the cathedral. When I’d first brought the cathedral up to Nathan as a potential place of interest he’d discovered it had been built in the 1960s and sneered. But then he did a little more research and discovered that it was all done by craftsmen, and decided it was worth a look.
Was it ever.
It was definitely one of the most beautiful cathedrals I’ve ever been in. Maybe not the most impressive in terms of size or ornamentation, but really, really beautiful. It helps, I’m sure, that we got there as the sun was slanting through the western stained glass windows and turning the eastern wall into a rainbow of light-smears. The rose windows were especially gorgeous, and I wished with all my little daughter heart that my mom could be there to see it. Ah well, perhaps next time.
Afterwards we just sort of wandered, taking in the sights (and picking up a genuine Irish woolen hat for Nathan) until the sun set, and then we headed back to the hostel for the previously-promised live music (which I enjoyed but Nathan declared unimpressive).
We both agree that next time we’ll spend more than half a day in Galway.
Right from the get-go Galway had a better feel to it than Dublin, and the next few hours only cemented that feeling in us. After dropping my pack off at Kinlay House (and marveling over the hugeness of the shower- complete with chair for sitting!) we headed over to the cathedral. When I’d first brought the cathedral up to Nathan as a potential place of interest he’d discovered it had been built in the 1960s and sneered. But then he did a little more research and discovered that it was all done by craftsmen, and decided it was worth a look.
Was it ever.
It was definitely one of the most beautiful cathedrals I’ve ever been in. Maybe not the most impressive in terms of size or ornamentation, but really, really beautiful. It helps, I’m sure, that we got there as the sun was slanting through the western stained glass windows and turning the eastern wall into a rainbow of light-smears. The rose windows were especially gorgeous, and I wished with all my little daughter heart that my mom could be there to see it. Ah well, perhaps next time.
 |
| Primrose window, amiright? |
Afterwards we just sort of wandered, taking in the sights (and picking up a genuine Irish woolen hat for Nathan) until the sun set, and then we headed back to the hostel for the previously-promised live music (which I enjoyed but Nathan declared unimpressive).
We both agree that next time we’ll spend more than half a day in Galway.
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