It's A Miracle!

DAY SIX

We headed out to the Dingle Peninsula...

and almost immediately saw something to strike fear in our hearts:

Not more winding roads! Lawd have mercy!  

Although The Sweet Man (who was driving)

and The Boy (who is just lucky) weren't having trouble with car sickness,

both The Girl and I were.  

We ended up mainlining ginger chews:

They helped, but we were still glad to get out of the car at Dingle.

We checked out some shops, and The Boy considered some caps...

... but in the end, the only souvenir he would take home was one of those smooshed pennies

from The Rock of Cashel.

We walked around, and found the An Diseart Center of Irish Spirituality and Culture...

... and decided to give it a look.

It had some lovely stained glass windows,

and a fresco of the Last Supper recently painted by a Colorado woman, Eleanor Yates.

The Boy posed in front of his namesake apostle;

the cool thing is Ms. Yates used ordinary folks from around Dingle to pose for the fresco.

I like how the apostle Thomas does indeed look like the kind of guy who would be all, 

"Well, I don't know..."

Before heading out to the the garden, 

the girl made a discovery:

"They have WiFi here!"

 Thanks, Jesus!

(In our defense, the place we were staying had no internet connection,

and we were expecting email.)

We headed out to Murphy's Pub for lunch...

 ... and finished up with some amaaaazing ice cream from a place called Murphy's Ice Cream.

(These folks are so artisan they literally get their sea salt from the sea at Dingle.)

Aaaand I still suck at taking group photos with my camera.  

Believe me, we were all enjoying our ice cream.

Dingle has a well-known driving "loop" filled with beauty and history,

but remember the whole carsick / ginger thing?

Yeah, we weren't going to be able to do that.

Instead, we headed back to our cottage, 

where we relaxed and watched a movie from the dvd collection.

Not this movie, btw.

I must have forgotten the part where Edward R. Murrow interviewed a bikini babe.

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Next Up:

Chowing down in Ireland.

It's Animal Heaven!

DAY FIVE

Although I didn't have jet-lag that bad,

I had been waking up in the middle of the night

and unable to get back to sleep for an hour or two.

But when we arrived at Annie's Cottage...

 it was truly raining for the first time. 

This meant we were lulled to sleep by the storm against the windows,

and except for being briefly woken by a gale

that sounded like a refrigerator being pushed down the stairs,

I slept soundly through the night for the first time.

And in the morning...

Donkeys!!!

And sheep!!!

Annie's Cottage had donkeys, sheep, dogs and cats,

and was perfect for our animal-loving family.

After saying "Hey" to the beasties,

we headed out to the Dingle Wildlife and Seal Sanctuary.

And what did they have there beside rescued baby seals?

Baby goooooats!!

After walking around a bit...

... and feeding some birds...

.... and trying to touch some birds...

(Lawd, my hair looks like one of the birds had tried to nest in it)

....we made our way to Inch Beach for lunch.

We ate at Sammy's, a popular spot,

(we in no way  totally picked that spot because they had WiFi, which Annie's Cottage lacked),

and I had my first fish and chips.

It was as tasty as can be, but I committed a faux paus, tip-wise.

(And not the kind you would expect.)

I had consulted with Rick Steves on how much to tip,

and he said it was not as expected in Ireland; 

also, ten percent was plenty.

Since I wanted to leave a good impression, as an American,

I decided to leave a little bit more than expected.

"Ay, those Americans,"

I imagined a waitress saying at night,
"They're a loud bunch, but they leave a good tip."

HOWEVER...

At Sammy's, I left my ten percent, plus a bit more,

plus a little bit more

because we were going to get some dessert and Guinness and take it to the bar.

As we headed to the door, the waitress came running after us.

"Excuse me!" she said, loudly,

"You left this," and she waved some some bills at me.

"It's.. it's a tip," I said in a small voice.

(This was less than what I'd leave in The States, btw.)

"Oh," she said, not at all impressed.

"It's just a really big tip."

I know this sounds humble-braggy, but I was genuinely embarrassed and 

 realized that too much of a tip

was not considered in as positive a light as I thought it would be.

"Ay, those Americans,"

I now imagined a waitress saying at night,
"Always throwin' money around, showin' off."

I vowed to tip just a bit more, but not too much in the future,

and after finishing our drinks and dessert we went along the Inch Beach.

After a brief stroll we headed back to the cottage,

where the donkeys didn't care what kind of money we had,

as long as we had carrots to share.

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Next Up:

It's a WiFi miracle!