Our Animal Tour Continues

DAY NINE

It was time to make the last leg of our journey.

When looking at the drive aaaall the way across Ireland,

from Galway to Dublin...

The Sweet Man pointed out that Athlone was smack in the middle.

"I don't know,"  I said, 

"Rick Steves doesn't say anything about it.  And some guy online said it was 'rubbish'."

But we needed a place to stop for lunch, and Athlone was at the right time, so Athlone it was.

And what a good decision that turned out to be!

The castle there had recently had a spiffing up...

... and had dramatically-lit displays...

... and interactive touch-screens...

.... and a big ole, theater-in-the-round for a documentary.

It was both modern and agreeably castle-y.

(These two photos below illustrate why The Girl is in so many more pictures than The Boy.

He's really not a grumpy person -- he's as even-tempered as you can imagine--

but he treats the camera like someone will pull out his teeth if he shows them.)

At the visitors' center, the helpful lady said Athlone was home to Ireland's oldest pub!

How could we miss that for lunch?

And what did we see when driving into Athlone?

A sign for...

Yes!  A petting zoo!

Now, the whole family enjoyed this petting zoo.

But The Girl did not stop smiling once.

   

Forget castles and museums,

The Girl got to hold a baby goat!!

There was one inhabitant of the zoo, however, that was not so cuddly.

Dun dun...

DunDun DUNdun...

DunDunDuuuuun!!

Despite the emu having the velociraptor/cobra neck thing going on,

I figured it must be safe to feed.

(The young woman at admissions had even given instructions on feeding it, after all.)

"They wouldn't let something dangerous around little kids," I told myself.

But,

  holy cats!!

 That thing smacked my hand with the force of a frying pan.

My family teased me about my shriek, but as I reminded them,

 did they have the nerve to feed the emu?

And, no, they admitted, they did not.

It was time to head to our last stop, Dublin.

But The Girl announced she might as well get on the plane right then,

because nothing was going to top the Glendeer Petting Farm.

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Next Up:

I visit a library, and am as happy as a bird with a french fry.

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!