As soon as we got off the plane, I sent a message to Allen saying 'They really sound like leprechans!" I was so excited. I could understand most of the people but some of them had such strong accents while talking to each other that I could only pick up a few words. We made the Guinness Brewery our top priority. I had no idea Guinness is so commercialised. There was everything from chocolate (flavoured with real Guinness) to pens and postcards. There was even a beef sauce (also flavoured with real Guinness). We bought a packet of Guinness caramels because we were starving and they tasted great- not like Guinness at all. Lisa decided she liked the free pint of Guinness we got at top of the brewery and sculled it down like a true drunk. I have to admit it's nicer here than in Australia. Problaby because it's a draught so it doesn't taste so much like soy sauce.
The next day we went on a Dublin walking tour and saw all the usual tourist things. I have to admit I felt a bit disappointed by Dublin. I'd expected something more...
Irish (whatever that may be). At any rate, something less like any other capital in the world. It might have been because we only stayed around the tourist areas. The Dublin Writers Museum was fascinating. Had no idea Oscar Wilde and Oliver Goldsmith were Irish. (Photo: mummified cat and rat found in the organ pipes at Christchurch Cathedral, Dublin)
We stayed near Kilkenny for New Year's Eve because I had no desire to be in Dublin for the festivities. I find New Year's such a letdown. People hype about it so much and why are they so keen to be rid of an old year and start a new one anyway? Are their lives so miserable that they want to drink themselves stupid on the last evening (or the first morning) to forget about the horrors and indignaties of the year past? And what right have they to be optimistic that the new year will be better than the last? Most people go back to their wretched routine and their wretched existence as soon as the holidays are over. Five kilos heavier. Not very inspirational. (Photo: Kilkenny countryside)
We stayed at a B&B about ten minutes drive from Kilkenny. It was in the beautiful Irish hills (they really are beautiful) and Dermott, the owner was incredibly hospitable. One thing I have to say about the Irish is the whole time we were there, we didn't once get a cranky shop assistant or bus driver or waiter. They were unbelievably cheerful and after eleven months of having my change thrown at me by shop assistants and being glared at like it's their birthright I felt so loved *sniff*. (Photo: the view from our window on New Year's Day)
After two nights of peace and quiet, we moved into Kilkenny centre. We'd booked two hostel beds but the place, Macghabbain's Hostel, was literally a shit hole (I tried to leave this as a comment on hostelbookers but it has an automatic censor that tells you if you have used 'an offensive and discriminatory word'. So I replaced shit hole with turd hole). We knocked and rang the bell for twenty minutes and finally a girl came down in pink pyjamas. The first thing she said was 'Careful of the poo behind the door.' But she was only a hosteller so she went back to bed and we waited another fifty minutes for any staff to arrive. We heard a guy get up and go to the bathroom, release a long, loud fart, cough up the morning's phlegm and piss with the door open. By this stage we were feeling a bit sick. The kitchen smelt like old food and there was a dog and a half-naked man sleeping in the hostel common room. I had nothing against the dog but the person was snorning his head off and the room smelt like morning breath. As soon as the guy came to open the hostel, we cancelled our reservation. (Photo: sprawled on the steps of Kilkenny Castle)
We visited Kilkenny Castle (if anyone ever buys me a castle, I'd like it to be Kilkenny Castle) and went back to Dublin. Lisa developed a taste for baked beans so since we were too poor to eat in cafes and restaurants, we ate ryvita and baked beans for about four days straight. In Dublin we bought tickets to see a play called
The School for Scandal. It had a predictable storyline, but we nevertheless nearly peed our pants with laughter. (Photo: scene from
The School for Scandal)
I refused to book hostel beds on the last night because we had to be at the airport by 4:15 am anyway. After her initial horror, Lisa decided it was a practical and economical thing to do and it wasn't like it was uncomfortable or cold or anything. I also appeased her by telling her she wasn't so fat after all, and probably didn't have cellulite. (Photo: disabled/geriatrics toilet sign in Kilkenny)
Photo: rainbow in the Dublin sky. Ireland is a very wet country.
As soon as we got off the plane, I sent a message to Allen saying 'They really sound like leprechans!" I was so excited. I could understand most of the people but some of them had such strong accents while talking to each other that I could only pick up a few words. We made the Guinness Brewery our top priority. I had no idea Guinness is so commercialised. There was everything from chocolate (flavoured with real Guinness) to pens and postcards. There was even a beef sauce (also flavoured with real Guinness). We bought a packet of Guinness caramels because we were starving and they tasted great- not like Guinness at all. Lisa decided she liked the free pint of Guinness we got at top of the brewery and sculled it down like a true drunk. I have to admit it's nicer here than in Australia. Problaby because it's a draught so it doesn't taste so much like soy sauce.
The next day we went on a Dublin walking tour and saw all the usual tourist things. I have to admit I felt a bit disappointed by Dublin. I'd expected something more... Irish (whatever that may be). At any rate, something less like any other capital in the world. It might have been because we only stayed around the tourist areas. The Dublin Writers Museum was fascinating. Had no idea Oscar Wilde and Oliver Goldsmith were Irish. (Photo: mummified cat and rat found in the organ pipes at Christchurch Cathedral, Dublin)
We stayed near Kilkenny for New Year's Eve because I had no desire to be in Dublin for the festivities. I find New Year's such a letdown. People hype about it so much and why are they so keen to be rid of an old year and start a new one anyway? Are their lives so miserable that they want to drink themselves stupid on the last evening (or the first morning) to forget about the horrors and indignaties of the year past? And what right have they to be optimistic that the new year will be better than the last? Most people go back to their wretched routine and their wretched existence as soon as the holidays are over. Five kilos heavier. Not very inspirational. (Photo: Kilkenny countryside)
We stayed at a B&B about ten minutes drive from Kilkenny. It was in the beautiful Irish hills (they really are beautiful) and Dermott, the owner was incredibly hospitable. One thing I have to say about the Irish is the whole time we were there, we didn't once get a cranky shop assistant or bus driver or waiter. They were unbelievably cheerful and after eleven months of having my change thrown at me by shop assistants and being glared at like it's their birthright I felt so loved *sniff*. (Photo: the view from our window on New Year's Day)
After two nights of peace and quiet, we moved into Kilkenny centre. We'd booked two hostel beds but the place, Macghabbain's Hostel, was literally a shit hole (I tried to leave this as a comment on hostelbookers but it has an automatic censor that tells you if you have used 'an offensive and discriminatory word'. So I replaced shit hole with turd hole). We knocked and rang the bell for twenty minutes and finally a girl came down in pink pyjamas. The first thing she said was 'Careful of the poo behind the door.' But she was only a hosteller so she went back to bed and we waited another fifty minutes for any staff to arrive. We heard a guy get up and go to the bathroom, release a long, loud fart, cough up the morning's phlegm and piss with the door open. By this stage we were feeling a bit sick. The kitchen smelt like old food and there was a dog and a half-naked man sleeping in the hostel common room. I had nothing against the dog but the person was snorning his head off and the room smelt like morning breath. As soon as the guy came to open the hostel, we cancelled our reservation. (Photo: sprawled on the steps of Kilkenny Castle)
We visited Kilkenny Castle (if anyone ever buys me a castle, I'd like it to be Kilkenny Castle) and went back to Dublin. Lisa developed a taste for baked beans so since we were too poor to eat in cafes and restaurants, we ate ryvita and baked beans for about four days straight. In Dublin we bought tickets to see a play called The School for Scandal. It had a predictable storyline, but we nevertheless nearly peed our pants with laughter. (Photo: scene from The School for Scandal)
I refused to book hostel beds on the last night because we had to be at the airport by 4:15 am anyway. After her initial horror, Lisa decided it was a practical and economical thing to do and it wasn't like it was uncomfortable or cold or anything. I also appeased her by telling her she wasn't so fat after all, and probably didn't have cellulite. (Photo: disabled/geriatrics toilet sign in Kilkenny)
Photo: rainbow in the Dublin sky. Ireland is a very wet country.
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