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!

Day 6 (Edinburgh): Of Calzones and Connoisseurs

Today we ate at Made in Italy, a charming little chain with the lowest prices on cheesey bread. We knew we had arrived when the couple behind us ordered their marinara with a banana-coconut milkshake on the side.

Made in Italy on Grassmarket in Edinburgh.
At least at Steps of Rome the food comes with complimentary groping.

[Exterior. An Italian restaurant. Late afternoon. WOMAN and MAN are seated at a table, while WAITER takes their order.]
WOMAN: I just love your accent, where are you from?
WAITER: I am from Italy.
WOMAN: Ah, yes, "EE-ta-lee" (gestures with tips of fingers pressed together)
WAITER: Yes (pained smile).
[WAITER walks away, wearing pained smile. This is not the first time this has happened today.]
WOMAN: (glowing) Well, it sure feels more authentic when Italians run the restaurant.
MAN: (nods while sipping his banana-coconut milkshake)

Well, at least I keep telling myself I didn't come here for the food.

Currently sipping: anCnoc (a-nock), a 12 year highland that tastes remarkably like velvet and honey.

Day 4 (Edinburgh): Whisky Update

Today I got to experience the synthesis of Disneyland and booze: the Whiskey Experience (video), complete with a ride in a whisky cask and a complementary tasting. The tour deposited me, pleasantly buzzed, at the bar and gift shop. Damn they're good at capitalism.

Me and my bottle of Bowmore 10 year old Tempest.
Non-chill filtered and cask strength Islay in a bottle.

Needless to say, purchases were made.

Some brief tasting notes from the past few days:

• Macallan 10 year old (Speyside) -- A lot like Glenlivet 12 year, fruity with some malty toastiness.
• Balvenie Double Wood 12 year old (Speyside) -- Smelled like wood chips. Tasted like a Blue Moon with a slice of orange in it times eleven.
• Aberlour 10 year old (Speyside) -- Smelled like maple syrup.
• As We Get It 8 year old, cask strength (Highland) -- Smelled like jellybeans and toffee. Tasted like cloves and vanilla. Liquid fire; better than the mouthwash I've been using for my canker sore.
• Smokehead (Islay) -- Smelled like Scottish breakfast: bacon and tomatoes. Tasted like fermented black tea and horse dung. Lingering dark chocolate. Would gladly drink again.

Day 4 (Edinburgh): To the Castle!

Another bizarrely sunny day in Edinburgh! Today we went to the Castle which is on top of a huge hill just a few blocks from our hostel and has a tumultuous past. The buildings span Edinburgh's 1000 year history.

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David's standing in front of Mons Meg, a canon from the 1400s. It fires the 400 lbs cannon balls that I'm sitting on in the picture below about 2 miles. 

This is a little stained glass window in Margaret's Chapel. It was built in the early 1200s and is the oldest building in Edinburgh. It's a small nondescript building in the castle walls. 

The view of Princes St Gardens and part of the New Town from the castle.