A daytrip to Lokrum

July 23 (Day 3): A couple of the more adventurous tour buddies set off early morning for a bus trip to nearby Montenegro.

After a late night and a couple of shared bottles of Croatian chardy, I decided to join another bunch of more laidback tour buddies, and we headed over to the small nature reserve of Lokrum, a 30-minute ferry trip from Dubrovnik harbour.



The water is so incredibly clear and junk-free, and as the temperatures soared, so did the number of people we could see swimming off the rocks. There were clearly no inhibitions (or acceptable legal limits) about the amount of flesh and lard that could be flashed about...

We decided to go for a bit of trek around the island, and a couple of hours into it, and heading uphill in the extreme heat of the day, wondered what in god's name we were doing!

The walk afforded us though, with great views of the moored cruise ships and a view back over the city. From a distance, it really became clear how important Dubrovnik's fortress-like walls had been in the city's history. We were told that Dubrovnik had never actually fallen in any attack.

Lunch on Lokrum was awesome. We stopped at an open-air restaurant in amongst some old ruins near where we started the walk, and pigged out on ice-cold pivo and seafood risotto under shady trees. The waiter was a huge Croatian bloke who seemed slightly amused (and impressed) at our attempts to speak Croatian.



The rest of the afternoon was a lazy haze of swimming and dozing under trees. Interestingly, we came across a bunch of gum trees in the botanical gardens, and I had a wee sentimental twinge of Oz. It was easy to see why gum trees thrived in the conditions though. It was still as hot as Brisbane in summer!

Later that evening, we headed back into Dubrovnik to see the night lights, and another seafood dinner rolled by. Dubrovnik harbour has a really chilled but lively feel about it at night - the streets are lined with people dining out, and munching yet more icecream.

We kicked on for a bit longer at the local bar back at Lapad, and were later seen singing karoke-style into the night. This will not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me well....

Categories: Croatia, Tours

Walking the walls of Dubrovnik

July 22 (Day 2): The warm weather continued, and it was a balmy 25C over breaky on the balcony, with temperatures continuing to head north.

Our brief bus journey took us along a small stretch of the coast, and the Adriatic sea was the most amazing shade of blue – that continued throughout the entire trip. The Dalmation Coast is truly stunning!



Into Dubrovnik on a guided tour, and the huge high walls that have enclosed and protected the city for thousands of years loomed large. Offset by the huge mountains we’d seen in shadow the night before, and the crystal blue waters, it was easy to see how Dubrovnik had been named the “Pearl of the Adriatic”.

More superlatives - George Bernard Shaw once said, “Those who seek paradise on earth should come to see Dubrovnik”. He’s not wrong! One step inside the huge walls, and it was love at first site with a city that has been attacked and re-built many times over.

Our guide showed a map of the Old Town that depicted where the damage took place in the siege of Dubrovnik in 1991. It was hard to believe that this World Heritage site had been bombed to bits quite recently, and eerie to know that we were walking down the very streets that had been under attack. We then walked through the cobbled streets, checking out the oasis-like Franciscan and Dominican Monasteries, the cathedral and the Rector’s Palace.

The waterfront heaved with people - a couple of large cruise ships had deposited thousands of passengers for the day, and ice-cream munching tourists weaved in and out of the streets and atop the city’s walls.



By noon, the sun was a scorching 36C. That became the benchmark for the next week! A bunch of us decided to have lunch in one of the (many) restaurants on the high side of the Old Town, and we got acquainted with the typical Croatian menu of risotto, pasta and salads, and pivo (beer) of course. It was so bloody hot that beer was the only answer. In later days we became rather familiar with Croatian wine, but for lunch, it was always a large pivo! God it was good!

That afternoon, we continued to wander through the maze of streets, observing locals and tourists swimming off the sheer rocks and occupying every square foot of water available. It’s like Australia in that it’s a water–loving country, and you could tell the English or Australian tourists by the shade of pink in their sunburn.



After the first of many awesome Croatian icecreams, most of the tour group reconvened late afternoon to walk the city’s walls – this is a must do in Dubrovnik, and it’s definitely much better done in the early morning or late afternoon to avoid the sun. There’s minimal shade up on the walls, and potential to be burnt to a crisp, but the views are entirely worth it.

We could see many of the 1180-plus islands that flank the coast of Croatia, the nature reserve of Locrum being the closest.

Everywhere, people were diving off the rocks into the sea, and boats floated by, while people lounged around open-air cafes and 13th buildings – there was a distinctly Mediterranean feel to the place, but with an equally distinct and proud Croatian heritage. The Wall Walk was awesome, and gave a really good view of the city.



We headed back out to Lapad for a quiet pivo and a bit of a rest before dinner. Later that night, we walked down the very resort-y feeling promenade at Lapad, into a huge bunch of restaurants that overlooked another pebbly beach. People were still out swimming late, as we scoffed down some great seafood, and had our first taste of Croatian chardy – or whatever the equivalent there is called.

We were truly getting the hang of the Croatian lifestyle, with the biggest decision of the day, being what to do the following day…go island hopping, shopping, hang by the beach or take a day trip to Montenegro, which is one of Europe’s newest countries.

I decided to sleep on such a momentous decision, after yet another icecream…

Categories: Croatia, Tours

Drooling in Dubrovnik

JULY 21 (Day 1 of tour): The 2.5 hour flight from Dubrovnik was painless enough, and as soon as I stepped off the plane, I knew the next week was going to be a tad warm - it was a steamy 30C at 10.30pm!

Jo, the tour manager, welcomed me and pointed me towards the coach that would become home for the next week. Misha, our ever-smiling Croatian driver met me at the bus, and other tour buddies started to arrive.

The drive into Dubrovnik took us around a winding road, that as we would see the next day, hugged high rocky mountains that plunged into the Adriatic sea below. The lights of Dubrovnik's Old Town soon twinkled below us, and we could just make out the borders of the giant walls that have surrounded and protected this city for thousands of years.

Our short journey for the evening finished at Lapad, a residential area about 10 minutes out of the Old Town. We rolled our bags down a wide pedestrian promenade lined by palm trees and soaked up the balmy atmosphere (and strains of "American Pie" at a local bar), as we came to the charming Hotel Zagreb.

Rooms and room-buddies were allocated quickly, and we spent our first night in Dubrobnik in air-conditioned bliss.

Categories: Croatia, Tours

WIWT: Changing of the Guard, Buckingham Palace, London

The Changing of the Guard Ceremony at Buckingham Palace is something that I've always associated with London, and is something that I never tire of seeing!

Roll on Croatia!

2 more sleeps till I fly out to Croatia! I'm doing an 8-day tour with Explore that starts in Dubrovnik, heads up to Split and then high into the hills to the Plitvice Lakes National Park.

We'll then come back down the coast to Petracane, Zadar and Trogir, before heading back to Split.












I'm doing the tour represented by the red line on the map, although I have to say, it was a pretty tough choice between the inland tour and the cruise tour off the Dalmation Coast.

It will be my first visit to Croatia. I've heard that it was hitting temps of 40C last week...pretty warm in anyone's book. I'm really looking forward to exploring the walled city of Dubrovnik, checking out the cellars in the Diocletian's Palace, and pigging out on what is meant to be fantastic seafood!

WIWT: Poignant Pics

This is definitely not a case of "Wish I Was There" (WIWT), but I took this photo in New York at one of the many tribute sites to the victims of September 11. Given the 1-year anniversary last week of the London bombings, and yesterday's terrorist attrocities in Mumbai, it seemed fitting to post a somewhat more poignant pic.

Visited Countries - create your own virtual maps!

A work colleague and fellow blogger, Daniela Barbosa, posted a cool resource that she'd found from another colleage - Visited Countries. You just need to click onto the list of countries you've visited, and it creates a map on fly.

Ok, there are slight limitations, in that if you click that you've been to the US, it shades the entire countrry, but it's a fab thing to play with, and has once again reminded me little I've really seen of the world.

Here's my Visited Countries map so far...South America and Africa, here I come!

The thing about Gibraltar pounds...

On the subject of Gibraltar (having visited there in April this year), I discovered that although British Pounds and Gibraltan Pounds may be completely interchangeable at an exchange rate of 1:1 in Gibraltar, they are not interchangeable back in Britain! That is, Gibraltan Pounds are not accepted as currency in Britain (as Scottish Pounds are), and it's bloody difficult to exchange them.

To date, I've tried changing my small stash of Gibraltan pounds at Citibank, HSBC, Royal Bank of Scotland and the Post Office, to no avail. They look at me as I've asked to exchange Mickey Mouse Money. So it's off to a Bureau de Change (where I'll no doubt be hit with a commission) - or back to Gibraltar (my preferred option).

So...my tip for the uninitiated - change any Gibraltan Pound notes back to British Pound notes before leaving Gibraltar. It makes no difference to them and you won't get stuck with a bunch of notes that, as one colleague remarked, make the Queen look like she's in drag.

WIWT: Going ape in Gibraltar

Gibraltar's famous Barbary Apes scamper over the upper reaches of the massive Rock of Gibraltar. Legend has it that should the apes ever disappear, the British will leave Gibraltar. It's worth spending a couple of days in this extremely British outpost, although you'll get a better meal over the Spanish border (you have to cross Gibraltar airport's runway to get there!) at La Linea.

Heading north...to Edinburgh

* The next two posts are about a long weekend in August 2005 to see the Military Tattoo in Edinburgh.

Early on in the year, I found that Contiki ran a 4-day tour up to the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, and as soon as I saw the tour advertised, I knew I wanted to do it. I don't know why I became obsessed with going to the Tattoo - I was never outrageously interested in anything military, nor bagpipe-ish - in fact, when we used to watch the Tattoo on the ABC at home as kids, I thought it was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

Anyway, on the last weekend in August, me and 50 other nutters set off on a four-day Contiki tour (my shortest tour ever), on the very long drive up to Edinburgh. It’s basically straight up the infamous M1 – the main road north from London.

Other than a few stops, and introductions of everyone on the bus, the 10-hour bus ride was as boring as hell. But…at 6.30pm or so, we reached Edinburgh, where it was a balmy 12-13C (quite noice for “summer” weather), and were shown to our accommodation in Pollack Halls – part of the student accommodation arm in the University of Edinburgh, about 15 mins walk out of the city.

Bags stowed, we hit the town, which, in the final weekend of the Edinburgh Fringe festival, was going off. The festival is a month long celebration of everything and seems to be one of the largest combined festivals in the world.

Despite the wet, freezing weather, my first impression of Edinburgh was that it is a beautiful city – quite like anything else I’ve seen in the UK. The buildings are stunning – old and grey/black, with loads of character. Like the Scottish people, the buildings stood tall and proud, as if not taking any crap from anyone.

It was surprising to see girls walking round in the near arctic conditions in micro skirts and ugg boots – seems to be the fashion in the northern parts of this country….speaking of nutters. Perhaps I’m getting prudish in my old age.

A date with 1000 pipers and haggis

Anyway, we partied hard into the wee hours of the morning and fronted up some time later at the food hall for a canteen-style breakfast. Black pudding was on offer, but the prospect of pig’s blood and guts for breakfast didn’t bode well after a night on the razzle. I settled for the far more comforting bacon and eggs.

We spent the morning exploring the historic Edinburgh Castle – a massive old fort perched on top of the highest hill in the city. It afforded great views of Edinburgh, out across the mountains and sea. It was blowing a gale and bloody cold, but very scenic.

I headed down into the Royal Mile, which is the heart of the city’s Old Town. I find when I’m travelling these days, I avoid the hideous High Streets and shopping malls, and seek out the old, quaint parts. The Royal Mile stretches from Edinburgh Castle at the top of the hill, down to Holyrood Palace at the bottom. Holyrood Palace is one of the royal residences in Edinburgh, and while not as flash as Buckingham Palace, it’s not bad for a wee cottage up north.

All sorts of quaint boutiques lined the streets, together with loads of Scottish paraphenlia like kilts, fake bagpipes, tartans and all sorts of warm wooly stuff.

I found fantastic little arts and crafts markets in an old cemetery in the streets below the castle and wandered back up the Royal Mile, checking out the many buskers and street performers that were there as part of the festival.

I recently heard a comedian describing the Edinburgh festival, and how “every corner is home to a bloke with bagpipes in a kilt” – and that was certainly the case. It was a scream!

After a mid-afternoon backbash, the group headed back into town and had a quick dinner and beer before joining the massive queue for the Military Tattoo. Here’s the thing with the Tattoo…it was the final night of the Tattoo, which had been playing for about a month, with two performances each night. They jam about 10,000 people into a purpose-built stadium in the car-park of Edinburgh Castle. Police line the streets, and they close of many of the main access ways into the castle, and pretty much filter people in, while also doing security searches. When the early show finishes, they have to get 10,000 people out, and let another 10,000 people in, which equates to a truck load of people in the narrow cobbled streets around the castle.

I spose it took about an hour to get in, but when we eventually got seated, the atmosphere was electric. By 10.30pm, when the show was due to start, the sky was pitch black and the castle was illuminated with flaming torches. It was even colder and windier than it had been during the day, but at least the rain held off.

The first pipers burst into the stadium and for the next couple of hours I sat mesmerized by what the Scots consider to be a deeply traditional and proud celebration of their military might.

Pipe bands from around the world performed various songs, and when the Scottish band played Scotland the Brave, the crowd went completely nuts. My favourite part of the show was when the entire 1000 or so performers played Mull of Kintyre – one of the best songs ever! And then they played “Sailing”, which again, with the strength of several hundred bagpipes, was awesome.

The grand finale was a haunting rendition of the Last Post, played by a loan piper at the top of the castle. Throughout the show, the wall of the castle had been used as a huge projection screen, and lit various colours – but for the last song, they turned out all the lights, had huge flaming torches on the castle’s main pulpits and focused a spotlight on the piper.

It actually moved me to tears – the whole Last Post thing. It was an extraordinary setting, and having spent the day in Edinburgh, it became very clear that the Scots are intensely strong, proud people. The show concluded with huge fireworks over the castle and the predictable rush and crush to get out, but it was one of the most amazing shows I’ve ever seen – and well worth it if you’re able to get tickets.

We kicked on at one of the many overflowing nightclubs and once again, partied our little hearts out.

The next day, I wandered round some more, before meeting Iain, an old IR colleague, who lives in Edinburgh, for lunch. We hadn’t seen each other for yonks, and it was a great to catch up. Cheers Iain!

The atmosphere in the city was fantastic, and the people-watching opportunities were spectacular. I spent the rest of the day pottering round the streets and checking out the main points of interest.

That evening, there was an option restaurant visit for what, we were promised, was a traditional Scottish meal. I had been debating whether to try haggis (mashed up, cooked offal), and decided that out of respect to the locals, I should give their celebrated delicacy a go. Holding my nose and shutting my eyes, I threw it down the hatch and managed to keep it there. The morsel I had was well cooked, so I couldn’t taste any of the potentially gross stuff…so there you go. I can at least say I tried haggis. Probably not likely to give it another go however…

After the main meal, we were treated to Andy the Piper/Comedian – a solo piper, who cranked up his bagpipes and between tunes, chatted about the history of the pipes and heckled everyone in the room. He was rude, completely un-PC and thoroughly hilarious. His finale was to play the theme song from Star Wars, which was one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever heard.

We kicked on at one of the many overflowing nightclubs and once again, partied our little hearts out. One travel buddy partied so hard he wound up in Edinburgh hospital at 5.00am with a torn ligament. This was of course, the morning we had to drive back to London. With an 8.00am departure, we all (somehow) managed to make it back onto the bus for the long drive home.

Things were predictably quiet for the first few hours, then the natives got restless, talked crap, asked if we were there yet (10 thousand times), pondered the horrors of M1 traffic, talked more crap, and finally, some 10 hours later, pulled into the now familiar Bedford Way at Russell Square – Contiki’s drop off point.

As we said our goodbyes, Scotland the Brave was no doubt ringing loudly in our minds, after one truly awesome long weekend.

Around the World in 80 Dates

Ok - I'm on a bit of a roll with travel books! But one of the truly most enjoyable travel books I've ever read was Around the World in 80 Dates, by Jennifer Cox.

After a good dose of introspection, the former Head of PR for Lonely Planet, decided to embark on a global search for her perfect man. Jennifer composed a "soul mate job description" and farmed it out to her geographically scattered "date wranglers". Their mission was to set her up on dates with any suitable blokes they knew - anywhere in the world. Her mission was to get through 80 dates...

The story sequentially diarises the dates and cities and the inevitable adventures and horror shows that ensue. As our intrepid heroin churns her way through the 10th, 20th, 30th and 50th dates, you start to wonder if she's actually going to meet the ideal man.

Around the World in 80 Dates is a fantastic travel adventure, and an inspiration to chics everywhere who are on the search for Mr Right.

To be sure - it's Dublin!

* The next six posts are about a driving trip Mum and I did through Ireland in May 2005.

TO BE SURE!

Mum and I arrived in Dublin mid-morning, and collected our trusty Toyota Corolla (an automatic). I haven't driven in over 6 months, and that combined with the less-than-clearly signed Dublin roads, extreme traffic, no detailed map of the city's surrounds, and rain, made for a nervous drive into town. But we got eventually there with some kamikaze navigating, a few u-turns and some near misses...:-)

Once we actually found the Tourist Information Centre, we were able to get a map that showed roughly where our first B&B was - at Clontarf, just 4kms from the city.

We had a typical oyrish lunch in a typical oyrish pub, and were quite surprised at the number of people out drinking on a Monday lunch time. Apparently any time's a good time to drink in Ireland.

After walking down O'Connell Street, the main street, we jumped on one of the city's tourist buses and checked out the main attractions. Highlights included Trinity College - a stunning old building that's home to the Book of Kells; then the Guiness Storehouse (although how people can drink that stuff is beyond me!). The Guide pointed out at this part of the tour, that Dublin's largest alcoholic rehabilitation centre was right opposite its largest brewery. Irish logic for you!

The guide then pointed out Kilmainham Gaol, the largest unoccupied gaol in the UK - how's that for a promotional tagline...

We drove through the lovely Phoenix Park, which is the largest urban park in Europe. As well as being home to Ireland's President, it's also home to Dublin Zoo. The guide pointed out that the Zoo has actually had quite a successful lion breeding program, most likely he thought, as a result of the similarity of Ireland's climate with that of the Serengheti.

Winding back along the River Liffey, we passed a pub at an average rate of 1 every 5 seconds. I was starting to feel at home.

After doing the loop on the bus, we found the car and yet again attempted to find the B&B, this time somewhat better equipped. More kamikaze navigating, swearing, squinting at the map, and a phonecall to our B&B hostess for the evening, we found our quaint little B&B and the even quainter Moira.

Moira looked like she was nearing 95, although was probably only 75, had the thickest Oyrish accent, and to be sure, she was lovely. Grand. It was all grand! Moira's house contained the largest collection of sentimental sh1te I've seen in a long time. Absolutely every surface was covered with photos, kitch little souvenirs, dusty antiques, stuffed animals, quaint signs and collections of god-knows what.

She showed us to our room upstairs, which was certainly neat and comfortable. And small. The "ensuite" actually consisted of a moulded shower no bigger than 40cm square and a wash basin. But it as warm and cosy, and had at least three pictures of the Virgin Mary looking over us, plus one of the Mona Lisa for good measure.

Moira helpfully gave us instructions on how to catch the bus back into town (I was *not* driving anywhere near Dublin traffic again that day!), and we got there in about 10 minutes. It helps when you know where you're going!

Even at 6.00pm it was still sunny - the nights are light until 9.00pm and later at this time of the year.

Mum was bent on finding a pub with Oyrish music, and the ever-trusty Moira had given us some tips. The Temple Bar area, just on one of the banks of the river, is great for pubs and restaurants, and within minutes, we were skulling the first of many cidars and listening to two blokes on guitars playing Irish music. Ahh....we were here.

Funnily enough, after several pints of cider and a good dose of Irish accents, you actually start to believe you are one of them. Mum and I started babbling in Irish, and were starting to be very sure of everything...the catchcry became "to be sure", and I guess we must have said that at least a thousand times each during the next five days.

Irish Stew and a typical fry-up completed our first very Irish day in Dublin. The copious amount of cider also meant that we had a few problems finding the right bus home - but that was only because Mum didn't trust my navigating abilities....we got there...eventually...to be sure!

Cork-ed!

DAY 2: The beds in Moira's cramped little rooms were surprisingly comfortable, and the light came streaming in at some very early time. Breakfast was at 8.00am, and this was where we met some of the other guests - an elderly English couple who seemed to think they were about to miss their flight back to Dublin, an American couple with a cute kid, and a Swedish couple who didn't say a whole lot. Oh, and a strange English bloke who also didn't talk a lot but sounded Australian. He was a bit offended when I asked if he was Australian...

Moira's breakfast room was more crammed with s*** than the rest of the house, including a photograph of Pope John II in a crowd - presumably on one of his many trips to Ireland. Anyway, Moira's brilliant breaky fry up hit the spot, and we started the tea-drinking odyssey that is Irish breakfast. I reckon we had about fourteen gallons of tea over the next five days.

We said goodbye to Moira, and with a few "to be sure's", we were off. The plan was to avoid Dublin and its notorious traffic, and head in exactly the opposite direction of where we were aiming to get to for the day (Cork), to get onto the M50 (a ring road around Dublin), which would theoretically bypass the traffic and eventually hook us up with the N7 - the main road down to Cork.

The plan kind of worked, and again with much swearing, kamikaze navigating, squinting and pointing, we somehow made it onto the N7, which turned into the M7 (a real motorway), and out onto the open road.

First impressions were of the green green grass and rolling hills. Buildings rapidly made way for sheep and cows, and we started to see the many ruins that dot the countryside - an old castle here, a bit of a wall there etc...some chunks of rock were probably just that - chunks of rock - but others were quite impressive, and probably had a long history attached to them.

The plan was to head down to Cork, via Kilkenny and Waterford. We sailed through County Laois, which we'd never heard of, and into County Carlow and the sleepy little town of Carlow. Looking back, Carlow was one of the divier places we visited but as we had to drive right through the centre of it anyway, we couldn't help notice the brightly coloured buildings and quaint pubs. Little did we know that almost *all* Irish towns are like this...

So we oohed and ahhed over cute Carlow, got the hang of the car (blinkers and windscreen wipers were switched, so there was much windscreen wiper action inadvertently going on for the first 100kms), and had a cuppa tea. Mum asked for a latte and got a blank look, then asked for skim milk in her tea, and was told that there was only real milk...clearly latte hysteria has not reached Carlow just yet.

We hit the road again, marvelling at the green grass, rolling hills, old chunks of rock, cows and sheep etc, and sailed into Kilkenny. More brightly coloured buildings paved the streets, but this was by far a prettier town than ugly ducking Carlow. It was quintessentially quaint - it probably helped to define the word. The doors on buildings were no taller than 5.5 feet, and there were barely any buildings over three storeys - well, accept Kilkenny Castle, which dominated the entire city, perched atop the local hill. It was quite a substantial chunk of rock.

The guide book deemed Kilkenny to be "one of Ireland's finest cities, full of medieval treasures and lined with brightly coloured painted Victorian style pubs and shopfronts", and indeed it was. Mum and I both thought this was one of the prettiest towns we visited.

We traipsed up the hill to the castle, along with hundreds of other tourists, and entered the very green grounds. We had to walk a good few hundred metres back from the castle to get the photo on this page. We then pottered around the Design Centre, which is actually a big tourist shop (although surprisingly good value), and I decided it would be fitting to spend the rest of the week driving round with Irish music bellowing around us.

For the next 700kms, "Timeless Irish Classics", a double CD containing hits like, "Danny Boy, Molly Malone and the Black Velvet Band" provided endless entertainment as we drove through many of the places referenced in the songs.

Next stop was Waterford, home of the famous Waterford Crystal Factory - this we avoided, but the township of Waterford itself was quite pleasant, and had quaint little cobbled streets and more brightly coloured shops.

From there, we sailed though County Waterford, through yet more green rolling hills, and out to the coast at Dungarven. This was our first citing of the coast since Dublin, and barring the vast mudflats, it was fairly scenic.

Timed to perfection, we arrived in Cork City bang on peak hour, but I did actually have my bearings pretty well sorted, having been there in February. The B&B was actually on the city map we had, which made things much easier - accept for the weird Irish house numbering system and the fact that street names on the streets bare little resemblance to the street names on maps...

Anyway, John, the B&B host for the evening welcomed us, outlined the breakfast schedule and pointed us on our merry way, into the city.

We were keen to hear Irish music, which doesn't actually seem to start before 9.30pm-ish in any given pub. Dinner this night was in a very oirish pub called Clancey's, and again cider featured prominently. I also introduced Mum to tot hoddies...or hot hoddies..whatever...the barmen understood.

To wile away time before the band started, I challenged Mum to a limerick competition. We each had to come up with limericks that mentioned the other person's name, by the time we got to County Limerick in a couple of days. This she accepted, and we began working on our limericks there and then. Here's a taste of our literary talent....we'll add more soon:

** From Robyn **
I do have a daughter called Mel
Who had too much cider and fell
She got up again and said
"Oh what a pain,
Do they have this great stuff in hell?"

** From Mel **
There once was a woman called Robyn
Who flew RyanAir into Doblin (go with me here!)
She saw Waterford, Cork and Kinsale
Her navigatin' never did fail
Although her head in the cider was bobbin'.

Funnily enough, all of our limericks revolved around alcohol. To be sure. Anyway, it kept us amused till the band began to play.

And they were excellent - possibly better than the Timeless Irish Classics if the truth be told. They did some jigs, sang some songs, and then got the audience up to attempt to do some irish dancing. Imagine the consequences of copious cider mixed with rapid dancing and lots of counting, tricky steps (like turning your partner), and foreign tourists not being able to understand the band dude's thick oirish accent....somewhat disastrous, but very very funny. We tripped our way through the rest of the evening, and headed back down through a very crowded high street, and back to the comfy B&B.

We were getting the hang of this place called Ireland.

Anti-clockwise around the Ring of Kerry

DAY 3: The day began with grey skies and drizzle, so we decided not to do a walking tour of Cork city, but headed straight out to the Blarney Castle, just north of the city.

The castle was built in the 15th century and is in pretty good condition for such an old chunk of stone. The grounds surrounding the castle were green and gorgeous, and there were far more flowers than when I was there in February.

We climbed the cramped spiral stairs to the top of the Castle, which gives a great view of the countryside, and the very cute township of Blarney. Having already kissed the Blarney Stone, I didn’t feel the need to do it again, but it was amusing listening to some of the American tourists talking about how unsanitary it was to have several hundred (or thousand) people kiss a small bit of rock embedded into the side of the castle. Mum also passed, but did manage to get some completely unflattering photos of other people doing it.

There’s a coffee shop in Blarney that does the best hot chocolate, so we camped there for a while as the rain really started to fall.

It rained pretty much the whole day. The cows, sheep, cute coloured buildings and old ruins out in the fields kept us amused, and our Timeless Irish Classics bellowed through the car. We were starting to learn the words, and they seemed so fitting:

“Oh grey and bleak, by shore and creek,
The rugged rocks abound.
But sweeter green the grass between
Than grows on Irish ground.”

We drove through the small town of Macroom and into Killarney, which is one of the biggest towns outside of Dublin, Cork, Galway and Limerick. Its proximity to the Ring of Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula mean it’s perennially packed with tourists and coaches. But its narrow cobbled streets, great little pubs and craft shops give it heaps of character. Coincidentally, almost all of the towns starting with K were the nicest.

After a long walk through Killarney, lunch and some souvenir shopping, we headed on our merry way round the Ring of Kerry, anti-clockwise. We’d been told that the roads around this area were crap, and that we were likely to have to share them with the bwzillions of coaches that take tourists on day trips. Our plan was to get halfway round The Ring that afternoon, and beat the coaches that would start from Killarney the next day.

It was a shame that it was such a drab day, and that the fog was low – because it was obvious that the scenery would have been spectacular. We drove round windy little cliff tops where green hills met the North Atlantic Ocean off the wild west coast. Not being able to see much, we kept driving to a little town called Cahersiveen (pronounced car seveen) and decided to stay there for the evening. It was a quaint little town where the “highway” rambled through the main street. It’s quite extraordinary to see buses and trucks pass each other in these narrow little passageways.

By about 4.00pm, it was windy, wet, freezing, and time for a cider. The barmaid gave us tips about the best place for dinner – a pub just down the road from hers. We found the B&B, which our host had pointed out, was on the “car ferry road”.

The B&B was great – it had a large glass conservatory as the guest’s sitting room, and the room was warm (although you had to run around in the shower to get wet – Irish water pressure is not so good). We got chatting to a British couple who were staying there for the evening, and then a scary looking German family (think middle age punk rocker types with one child) came in too.

We didn’t realise that seafood would be plentiful in Ireland (despite it being surrounded by water….duh!), but we had the yummiest salmon dinner that night. In fact, Mum had salmon every night.

The old pub was cold and dimly lit, but we parked ourselves in front of the fire to thaw out, and asked the barmaid how her town’s name was pronounced. The Irish people are awesome – so friendly, and much less formal than the English…

With a few more ciders under our belts, we called it quits and had an early night, keeping our fingers crossed for better weather!