Day 14 (Conwy): Fairies and Whales

Today we made our way across the Irish sea by way of ferry into northern Wales. We then rode the train through some towns with thoroughly unpronounceable names. Getting around has been something of a pain; the signage isn't great and it can be hard to find even basic information like bus fare. Anyway, we arrived in Conwy (say "Conway") to find an adorable medieval town ringed by a 13th century wall and castle. Tomorrow we head out to Bristol.

The Irish Sea. We rode one of those mega-ferries with a parking garage for cars , a casino, and a  food court.

Say that ten times fast.

We saw tons of sheep on the train ride through Wales.

Relaxing at the hostel with some local microbrews.

The napkin says "Welcome to Wales." Thanks, napkin.

The 13th century castle and city walls that ring the old city.

Sunset at the harbor.

Day 13 (Dublin): Howth

For my birthday, we went to the peninsula of Howth (say "Hoath"), which is north of Dublin and accessible by commuter light rail. We finally got a bit of the weather we bargained for: fog, drizzle, and cloudy skies. A lot of the trail we hiked went along the clifftops. The Irish Sea was calm that day, and we took plenty of postcard-perfect snapshots. After a long day hiking, we rewarded ourselves with some dinner and pints on Camden Street.

At the harbor in Howth.

Ireland.

David on the mount.

Scenic cliffs.

More cliffs.

Hi ma!

Everything is so green.

Should have brought the beach volleyball set.

Big Sur? No. Ireland? Yes.

Man-eating MONSTERS.

Taking the trail back into town.

Some spindly birches.

Putting our feet up at Anseo (say "an-SHOW," which means "here" in Irish)

Days 8-10 (Wexford) and 11-12 (Dublin): Of Palaces and Punk Shows

Spending the last few days in Ireland has taught me a lot about the wonderful generosity of friends, old and new. We've been staying in the tents, beds, and futons of our kind Irish hosts.

One of those old friends had a birthday party that came complete with a jerry-rigged Slip 'n Slide (c).

Summer shenanigans in sunny Ireland.

After the festivities, we headed up the coast for Dublin to stay with some people we met at the party. The coastal train, which seemed to precariously teeter along the cliff edge, made for a pleasant ride into the city center. 

Riding the coast train with one of our gracious hosts.

Arriving in Dublin we found ourselves swirling amidst a myopic landscape of kaleidoscopic neighborhoods. Being health-conscious Californians, we went to see the fruit and veg market for a healthy dose of self-superiority. I am saddened to report that Ireland does indeed have fruits and vegetables.

Moore Street market. The vendors advertise their wares in sing-song voices, just like the good old days.

I cannot stress our good fortune in making new friends who have the unblinking hospitality to house two complete strangers for a week. We are staying in a row-house built for factory workers in the early 1800s. I am saddened to report that Ireland has substantially less industrial squalor than I had hoped for.

Portobello: not just a mushroom, but also our neighborhood in Dublin.

Exploring Dublin: 

At the Dun Laoghaire (say "LEER-y") pier. Irish pronunciation mystifies even the Irish.

Some of our new friends enjoying 99s (soft serve ice cream in a cone for you yanks) at the pier.

Catching some tea at Queen of Tarts.

In case you didn't read the last caption.

Hallway at the Dublin Castle. Holy crap, gold leaf everywhere.

Massive, allegorical frescoes on the ceiling of the Great Hall. Royals sure love subtlety.
These panels depict the subjugation of Ireland under England.

 Today was National Fish and Chips Day. That means half off on all fish and chips. There's nothing tastier in my book than a ridiculously good deal, and €4.55 for an entire fish, battered and fried on top of a potato's worth of chips sounded too nauseatingly good to be true. Toss in a tub each of curry sauce, ketchup, and mayonnaise for good measure and we're in business.

Eating fish means HEAVY METALS.

Enjoying our fried fish with a side of medieval architecture.

Barely made a dent in the goddamned thing and I already feel sick.

 We rounded out the evening by seeing our host's hardcore band play a gig at a local venue. 

Pulled Apart, live at Whelan's.

Dublin has redefined the meaning of hospitality for me. It's no small gesture of kindness to welcome someone who you've just met into your home. I feel very lucky.

Today is my birthday!

Edinburgh Photo Diary (Days 5-7)

Here's a backlog of photos (taken on a real camera) that didn't make it onto the blog for one reason or another these past few days. Enjoy!

Contemplating some of life's bigger questions at Greyfriar's Kirkyard.

An imposing view of the castle, a constant presence in Edinburgh's Old Town.

Some fancy finger (and vocal) work at a subterranean jazz venue;
so underground the walls were rock.

The same Jazz Bar.

Time to bring in the big guns.

Lunching atop Calton Hill.

Yup, still lunching.

Faux ruins on Calton Hill.

An inquisition into all things botanical on Calton Hill.

Triple scoop ice cream with two "flakes" (wafers of chalky, but delicious, chocolate)

Magical beasts are known to roam the Kingdom of Scotland.

Princes Street Gardens on a (rare) lovely day. We had sunshine the whole week we were in Edinburgh..

Building a bank at the Banking Museum. Too big to fail?

View of a daycare from our hostel room. Why watch TV when there are BABIES?!

Effortless sophistication.

Time to EAT.

A scenic river pathway in Dean Village.

Dean Village.

Houses by the river in Dean Village.

Even the lawns here have a dry sense of humour: "There will be no miracles here."
At the Scottish Museum of Modern Art.

A very modern bathroom at the Museum of Modern Art.

A wry building title: "Everything is going to be alright." Thanks, building.

David: Sarah, you are so PUNY.
Sarah: eeek!

Tourists.

Yum. Getting a sugar fix on Grassmarket.

The stretch of the Royal Mile that we walk everyday to get home.

Game changer.

The first thing you see when you enter the terminal at Edinburgh airport: Ardbeg whisky (it's like drinking a bacon cigarette, but in a good way). I wouldn't have minded a nip at 4:40am when we arrived.

Getting on the plane to Ireland. More adventures to come!