Findhorn Scotland

Off to a new adventure - Findhorn, near Inverness Scotland. A good solid day of travel commencing with a 7AM departure from our happy home in Knockbrown, with the offer of a ride to Cork airport from our kind and generous neighbor, Pauline.

Then Ryanair didn't bat an eyelash at our 4 (!) oversize, overweight duffels, 4 rollarounds, 4 backpacks, 3 purses and assorted shopping bags. On we went to Dublin. In Molly Malone's fair city (well the airport, which isn't really the city at all) we changed planes for Aberdeen. Now Ryanair is a point-to-point airline (a method they make a point of noting), so changing planes involves collecting your luggage (those 4 overweight duffels) and schlepping them up to the departure floor and checking them in again - another chance to charge us for overage on our luggage that they didn't take.

Landing in Dyce (somewhere near Aberdeen they tell us), we partook of some Scottish cuisine at the airport (about as you'd expect) and found an oversize cab to deliver us to the train station - which turned out to be just a platform with some uninformative signs.

Fortunately we didn't have to carry the baggage over the bridge to the other platform, and pretty soon we were rolling along on steel wheels in decidedly better style than most of the trains we've been on. A helpful conductor and several friendly locals get us on and off going the right direction and at the right station.

But arriving at Forres we find a closed station, no taxi's and almost nobody around - except a privatish looking small bus. As I walked over to see if the driver could help us, he starts to pull away! I managed to tap on the window, which got his attention (since he only had two passengers, one of them canine). He says, "Well no, the taxis are all in town, but I'm going that way and I can call you a taxi. And I'll drive around the circle and pick up your luggage." What a guy! Turns out Helmut lived at Findhorn for some time, asked us to say hi to KayKay for him, which is who we're staying with later in the week. He proceeded to call a largish taxi for us "Big enough for luggage for Africa", which was waiting at the bus stop downtown when we got there. With some juggling, pushing and squeezing we manaqed to get all of us and the horrendous baggage into a Citroen Berlinga.

After checking into the trailor (locally, caravan) we set off to explore Findhorn and hopefully find some grub for the kids. Tired and hungary, we stumbled into the community center which was in the process of serving pizza and salad to a group of some sort. But they turned us out; we weren't the right sort, or didn't pay enough or something. Informed that there was food available in Findhorn town we set off to walk the mile to town. On the way we noticed a center for healing and compassion, obviously associated with the Findhorn center. The hypocracy of that juxtaposition was a little much. I'm afraid, whatever other postive attributes the Findhorn foundation may have, the follow-the-rules particularness of the kitchen personnel put us off Findhorn quite a bit. Maybe tomorrow will better.

O'Shea's go to Dublin

Then back home for a little more catching up on time zones, and off to Dublin, via the Nicholas Mosse pottery factory outside of Kilkenny. Well, old "asleep at the wheel" almost missed that one, forgetting we had to turn off the highway shortly north of Cork, but we managed a little roundabout and got there in good form. Too bad it was a bit of a disappointment. The pottery is pretty much the same stuff he's been making for decades, except twice as expensive, the little cafe should stick to making pottery 'cuz that's what ther scones were like, and there wasn't much else.

But the Eaglais Mhuire abbey at Gowran was a hit, including finding my own gravestone. Francie want's to know who Rebecca was. I maintain it was another life and to never mind.

I want you to know, rumours of my demise...


Are greatly exaggerated.

After a little missed turn in Carlow wherein Francie (who was followning in the 2nd car and relying on my navigation) lost me and decided to continue on her own without telling me, we arrived at the

AvonLea B&B (kinanev@indigo.ie) in Naas. A finer place to stay would be hard to find. Our ten souls filled the place, so it felt like we owned it. A nice big back yard, completely equiped with dead soccer balls and a cute little Westie named Holly, a separate room for the kids, muffins in the TV room and all is well. Also the express(?) bus to Dublin stops at the end of the drive.

Did I mention traffic in Dublin? It's so wretched it takes the bus an hour to go the last 15 miles into the city center. Also parking a car there is about like parking in NYC, fugetabudit. Glad to leave the driving to the guys with the Irish setter mascot, we get to ride in the top of a double decker. Pretty exciting on roads that aren't quite as wide as the bus is, branches scrape down both sides in places.

Dublin is a marvel of an old european city.

It has the widest main street (as opposed to Avenue), the oldest hospital, the tallest obelisk, the most churches, the most pubs (now THERE's a justaposition for you), the biggest brewery, the biggest park, and a host of other features. Not least of which is tour but drivers with a very Irish sense of humour. The Dublin city tour is definitely worth the 14E, you get to see the city from the top of the bus, get off where you like

(the Guinness brewery for instance) and hear quite a bit more about the city than you'll find in Frommer's or Lonely Planet.

Doing the tourist thing

A quick day trip to Blarney castle goes well. Blarney town is a major tourist trap, but the castle and grounds themselves are truly worth a visit. The castle is, of course, in ruins, but what remains is documented (but not as well as Aughnanure] or even Kanturk]) and of course there's the stone to be kissed (No I didn't!). But the the walk around the rock keep is the truly magical part.






One of the features is the largest dolman] I've seen, at least 15 feet high and incredibly balanced.

There are also some amazing old yew trees growing right out of the bedrock, and what looks like it used to be a formal garden with the river running through it.

The O'Shea's come to Eire

The Cleveland and Minnesota contingents of the O'Shea clan arrived this week. Now we have a full house, with Kathy, her two young'ens Erin, Devin an older one, Kate and HER Significant Other Matt (better known and Mattata), and Maureen from MinneHopeless.

While I can't say they fit right in, we've spent enough time together that we get along pretty smoothly. Connor and Josie in particular are delighted to have familiar playmates and pick up where they left off last summer. Now we get back into tourist mode, only more as hosts than being the tourists ourselves. It's kinda fun feeling like we're locals, showing off all the little trivia we've picked up in our 3 months in County Cork.