What's In A Name?

On my recent travels, I was surprised at how many questions I was asked about my name in almost every country I visited. It wasn't something I was prepared for really, not expecting to find people interested in it. Many of the South Americans seem to put a lot of emphasis on names and what they mean, so I duly went about researching the origins of my own name. Here's what I found out:

A google search of my surname "Moriarty" brought up quite a few pages. In Gaelic, it is O'Mhuircheartaigh - this much I knew - what I didn't know was that the Gaelic derivation of it means "The Navigator". This information appealed to me a lot, for obvious reasons. Other meanings of the name taken down from Gaelic are "noble", "illustrious", "great", "exalted".

Nothing bad so far!


So, what about the Moriartys? Well, going way back they come from County Kerry in the South-West of Ireland, the neighbouring county to where I now live. Here's some of what I found out about them.

The great Gaelic family Moriarty emerged in later years in county Kerry. This distinguished Irish Clann were descended from O'Muirtheataith, who was descended from Domhnall, King of Munster, and possessed the "Flock abounding Plain" of Aisde on the river Mang in that county. They also held Castlemaine Harbour. They lost much of their territories in the Anglo/Norman invasion of Strongbow in the year 1172 and they were ousted by the Fitzgeralds. They also branched to Kells in county Meath but this was also confiscated. The Moriartys were a strong ecclesiastical family and the Rev. David Moriarty was Bishop of Kerry, but many of them lost their right to preach under the Penal code of 1714. Notable amongst the family at this time was Father Thady McMoriarty

What really jumped out at me from the particular piece was the fact that the Moriartys were ousted by the Fitzgeralds. Interestingly, my mother is descended from the Fitzgerald clan, her own mother being a Fitzgerald! Anyway, I'm digressing there.

Our own Moriarty clan come from Sneem which is deep in the heart of Kerry - quite a remote and mountainous region. It's strange but both my brother and I are always drawn back to Kerry and its mercurial mountains, and he especially walks and knows these ranges very well. Genes are funny things. How do we know what traits and characteristics we carry down through the generations. Are there qualities that are inherent in any of our lineages? It's certainly thought provoking, and it's really got my interested in tracing my family tree sometime. I never cared about this stuff much in the past, but I'm start to really wonder about who I am, why I like certain things - is it simply because I'm a unique individual or am I "made up" a particular way?

Anyway, moving on to my first name....

I was born in 1979 and my parents decided to name me Evelyn Marie. I always liked my name, but was slightly disturbed when I found out that their inspiration had been the name of a boat that sank off the coast of DOnegal three years earlier, The Evelyn Marie.

A search on the name Evelyn brings up a few things. Wiki will tell you that it is in fact a French name, Aveline, meaning "little bird". Its Germanic origins lie in the name Ava meaning "desired". Other possibilities are from Hebrew meaning "light" and from Celtic meaning "life" or "life-giving". Being a Celt, I suppose the later applies to me.

So, Life-Giving Navigator - could be worse I suppose!

Apparently, there aren't many of us knocking around. The only one I could find was Marilyn Monroe's on-screen double. There's not much info out there on her though.

Anyway, if you've got the time to spare, it's pretty interesting just to do an internet search on your name and what it means. At least next time I'm in a foreign country and someone asks me about it, I can bore the pants off them! :-D

Sun, Sea and Sessions

Well, it's Thursday, which of course means that tomorrow is Friday.

God, it's happening again - I'm morphing back into one of those people who counts down to every weekend. This is not how I want to live my life, wishing it away. Not good. One of the absolute best things about travelling around South America was not really ever paying attention to what day of the week it was - there was no need. One day just slipped easily into the next. When you're back in the 9-5 saddle though, the weekends become the focal point of every week, that time when you can actually live.

Last weekend was by far the best one since I got back. It wasn't so much a weekend really, as I managed to wangle Friday and the following Monday off work. Myself, my brother and two friends had organised a weekend in Donegal to attend a bodhran workshop and we were all looking forward to it immensely.

On Thursday evening I was in fantastic spirits leaving work - blue skies and glorious sunshine were heralding a great weekend! We left Limerick early on Friday morning with a quick stop in Galway to pick up Cian who had just flown in from Beijing the night before! The day was beautifully warm, and the further north we drove the more spectacular the scenery became. How had I forgotten how beautiful this part of the country is?!

Some frenzied grocery shopping was accomplished in Killybegs - supplies to tide us over for the few days. Where we were headed was out in the middle of nowhere so we thought we better stock up! We arrived in Glencolumcille at around 8:30 and raced to the Oideas Gael Centre to register. There we were met by a docile individual called Liam, who seemed slightly bemused by us all. I realised later that he just looks that way all the time. He told us to be in Biddy's Bar at 10pm to meet the rest of the group for a few drinks.

So off we went to find our hostel, Dooey Hostel, preceded by its reputation. My brother, Brian, had stayed here before and had warned us of what was in store, but NOTHING could have prepared you for what lay in wait at Dooey. This place is without a doubt THE most unique hostel I have stayed in to date, and that's saying something when you consider some of the places I found in South America! There is a sort of devil-may-care attitude to everything at Dooey, due in no small part to the indomitable Mary (70 yrs old) who glides around the place like some sort of spectre with fag-ash dropping as she goes, and her rogue of a son Leo. It can only be described as like staying at your granny's house but you're granny is a bit mad and smokes hash! They are an entirely lovable pair and totally laid back. Rules and regulations do not apply in this place!

After getting over the inital mind-warping experience of meeting Mary, we were shown to our rooms and told that a welcome cuppa was on the way. While we were sitting outside sipping our tea and taking in the truly awesome scenery all around us, various people from the hostel wandered over to talk to us. That evening we went down to Biddy's as planned in the hope of gettnig some live trad. As it turned out, it wasn't really that kind of place, but when we wandered in with our bodhrans and whistles a couple of local lads decided to treat us to a bit of a music. Myself and Shane picked up where they left off, more to practise for the following day than anything. Next we moved on to Roarty's pub where we ran into half the hostel along with..wait for it...The Columbia Three, who we found out later were apparently in town for some Cuban fundraiser evening. I remember saying to Mum back when all that stuff happened about great it would be to get their story, and here they were standing right by me in a tiny little pub in the back of beyonds in the north opf the country!!Anyway, it was a good evening, but it must have been the sea air or something, we all fell into bed and slept our brains out.

Slight panic ensued the next morning as we woke up to find that we were late for our first day of the workshop! With muggy heads, we rushed to get dressed and put a quick call in to say we'd be late. Not off to a great start really!When we arrived at the centre it wasn't hard to find where we were supposed to be - you just had to follow the sound of a bunch of people all lethering away on bodhrans. Holding court at the head of teh group was the closest thing to Santa I've ever seen. This was Paddy, who was to be our mentor for the next couple of days. We made our apologies for our tardiness and of course a bit of banter ensued about the pub the night before - this kind of broke the ice all around which was good :)

The first day was great. Paddy gave us lots of good tips for proper bodhran playing and it didnt matter that we were all crap really - it was just good fun. We were treated to tea and chocolate biscuits at 11 and this was a good way to get to know the rest of the group. There was about 15 of us in total - all sorts of people from all walks of life. It struck me a few times over the course of the weekend what good people you meet at these sort of things - genuine people just looking to broaden their horizons, learn something new. We met some nice folks and even swapped a fwe emails here and there. It was quite a long day but we all left that evening full of zeal for the bodhran. Back to the hostel for a couple of hours chill-out and some food. Myself and Shane got busy in the kitchen, cracked open a bottle of vino and whipped up a spag bol. Less than an hour later however Cian was in the bathroom throwing up. We figured it must have been the meal we'd just eaten. He stayed in the hostel while the rest of us went to the pub. In the space of another hour, my body was violently rejecting whatever I'd eaten. Ugh.I blame Shane :-D

Anyway, we were fine the next day and Brian and Shane remained unaffected...

Next morning, we were up again for another day of bodhran beating. This day was a lot of fun because Paddy just stuck on tunes and let us all play away to our heart's content with a few solos thrown in here and there. It was on this day that the group really started to loosen up a bit and it was pity that the course was so short because we were really only all getting to know each other. It was a short session, finishing at 2, but it left us the rest of the day to do a bit of exploring, so we piled ito the car and headed off to the little town of Ardara, a few kms over the mountains. We spent the late afternoon sitting on a deserted beach in Maghera playing our instruments and listening to the waves. As ever, it felt fantastic to be breathing in sea air and feeling the sand between my toes.

That night, a group from Dooey set off into the middle of nowhere to a little pub called The Rusty for a session proper given by Paddy and his friends. It was a great pub with a friendly atmosphere and we were all in the mood to make a bit of noise. Paddy had promised us the session to end all sessions. But things didn't go quite as he planned!! lol. When we arrived both the banjo player and the guitar player Sean were half-cut. As the night wore on, the guitar player Sean got worse and worse until he ended up slumped over his guitar with everyone shouting at him to play Lisdoonvarna. It was hilarious! There were one of two English tourists in the pub who just looked on in total incredulity!That was a pretty good evening. Had a great chat with Leo who plied us with alcohol and regaled us with his adventures from around the globe. We were doubled over in knots laughing at him most of the time. A total character!

It was with pangs of regret that we packed our bags the next morning, said goodbye to our new friends, Angela, Mary, Leo, Peter and set off home again, but not without some photographs to remember them all by. One thing is for sure, I will be paying Dooey Hostel a visit again and the next time I will stay for a longer time, do a bit of walking and really relax in this absolute gem of a village hidden away in the mountains of Donegal.

One Crazy Night in Clifden

It's Monday morning. As I type this I am still suffering the fall-out from the weekend's excesses. I could quite happily at this moment put my head down on this keyboard and drift away to the Land of Nod.  So, I type to stay awake.

On Saturday morning, I woke up and felt like being near the sea yet again, so I hopped in the car and headed off to Connemara. The weather was pretty changeable but I'm not one for sunbathing anyway. I really just wanted to go and feel the sand between my toes and let the sea air clean out some of the cobwebs.

Once I reached Galway I got a bit wayleighed. The TOur of Ireland Cycle Race was on which meant traffic delays, so I had to pull in by the side of the road and wait in anticipation with Galway's onlookers. A big colourful group of maniacal pedallers eventually whizzed by followed by cops on motorbikes, cars with bicycles attached to the roofs, pace-cars, more cops and then some straggling cyclists. After 5 mins of sitting there, it seemed like it would be okay to start the car up again - clear road, no more cyclists...or so I thought. Off I went down the road, gathering speed, rounded a bend and saw another bunch of cyclists approaching. A rather irate member of the Gardai zoomed up to me on his motorbike shouting at me to "Pull In Now!!!" I wasn't going to mess with him. I veered off the road a bit too quickly, hit a kerb and nearly took the front wheel off my car.

Eventually I managed to clear Galway and was out on the open road heading into the wilds of beautiful Connemara. I miss it here. When I lived in Galway I used to often take a spin out to Spiddal in the evenings and just walk the strands. Today though, i was going further afield - off out to Carraroe in the Gaeltacht (an Irish-speaking district). Carraroe boasts a beautiful coral beach and crystal blue waters. When I got there, it was very overcast and starting to spit rain. I bundled up, brought the camera and set out for a walk. As I came around a headland, an unusual sight met my eyes. Out of the mist came a large group of handsome spinnaker sailboats, all reds and blues. Watching them from the beach below was a band of cows. It was one of those scenes that you like to think is unique to Ireland. It was a good photo op and I tried to take a few shots, but with the greyness of the day they dont look quite as impressive as they should. The quietness of the place and the postcard scene created by the sailboats was really lovely. I walked far out along the headland to the mouth of the inlet taking deep breaths of sea air and tasting the salt from the spray. There are few things I am sure about in this life, but one of them is that I have to live near the sea.

After Carraroe, I decided to drive on up to Clifden for dinner. This is a spectacular drive, one of the best in Ireland! I went to Fogerty's restaurant for some fish! YUM! By the time I was done eating, it was getting late and with the drive home being anohter 3-4 hours, I thought I might as well stay the night. Finding accommodation wasn't so easy though. Everywhere I tried was booked solidly for the night, EVEN THE HOTELS! I was beginning to think I'd have to drive all the way back to Limerick when I took one last shot and asked the lady who ran the restaruant. Sure enough, she knew of a place and an hour later I was checking in.

I had spotted a pub that had a sign outside saying "Trad session tonight - musicians welcome". I had the bodhran in the car, so I thought I might as well head up there and see what was going on. There were two fellas playing so I walked up and asked if they minded if I joined them. They were delighted to have a bodhran and set me up with a mike. What followed was a 3 hour session which was really enjoyable! We were joined by a man from Limerick with a fiddle, and another man jumped in with the spoons. We drew quite a big crowd, mainly Americans who loved it! Some of them got up and sang and danced. Quite a few of them wanted photos of me with the bodhran! 5 minute of fame people - don't knock til you've tried it. :D

After closing time, we had a lock in and I got chatting to the bar staff who were a really sound bunch. Despite loud protestations of me wanting to go to bed, they dragged me off to another shindig up the road. I met a lot of genuinely decent friendly local people. I'm not sure what time I got back to my bed, but it was late.

The downside to it all is the sore head the next day. I had plans to visit Kylemore Abbey nearby, but they went out of the window. Breakfast in the BB was a bit of a surreal experience, as Cathal (the owner) proceeded to spill his life story over tea and toast. His Indonesian wife had left him the year before, trying to take him for all he was worth, and later kidnapping their only son. I got all the gorey details about life-threatening texts and hiring security guards. The facts are a big blur at this stage. I wasn't really firing on all cyclinders while I was being treated to this drama. My head was swimming as I did my best to make the appropriate responses to such a story. After a few much needed cups of coffee i wished Cathal all the best and tottered off to my car to begin the long journey home.

I'm vowing to give up drink I think. It's just not worth it!

All in all a great night though - a spontaneous one too which made it all the more enjoyable. I got a big kick out of just wandering in and having a "jam" with a bunch of locals. I'll have to do it again sometime!

A Stolen Day

On Tuesday morning I woke up in some sort of funk. I got up at the same time I do every morning, got ready for work and left the house in my usual manner. Except, when I got to work, instead of parking the car, some strange impulse came over me and I just kept driving. I wasn't even sure where I was going, but I just decided to keep going. I'm not one for taking days off work usually, but I really just felt like I needed to break away for a day.

It felt quite nice to leave the congested traffic and the city behind as I headed out towards County Clare. It wasn't a particularly nice day - overcast and with the threat of rain - but it didn't really matter. I put on some music, more to drown out the niggling thoughts at the back of my head about my rash decision and how I was going to explain it away to my boss. As the car ate up the miles, I began to care less and less and decided to really make the most of this day to myself.

Initially, I thought I might head to Galway, Ireland's hub for the Arts and my former home. But the more I thought about it, the less I felt like heading to another busy city and dealing with parking hassles and throngs of tourists. So, I turned off after Gort into The Burren, one of the world's most unique landscapes.

This is one of my favourite places in Ireland, somewhere you can just go and be alone if you wish or equally find some of the most interesting company. I enjoyed the drive through the crazy winding roads which brought me to Kinvarra, a jewel of a little town nestled in a little cove. I hadn't had breakfast and my tummy was trying to communicate this to me, so I went down to a little cafe I know down on the harbour. I sat at a table overlooking the harbour with its colourful little fishing boats, ordered eggs on toast and some coffee and was joined by a companiable ginger cat, who wrapped himself in circles around my ankles. A couple of backpackers came in and sat near me. They were French I think. They looked totally pissed off with our Irish "summer" and settled down with their paperbacks and two hot chocolates. Sure enough, a soft drizzle had started to come down outside. Before long, it brought int a lot more tourists and the cafe had a bit of a buzz about it. I sat and read my book, aptly enough called "The Sea", by John Banville and ordered some more coffee. The smell of it was amazing, or maybe that's just because it was coffee in Kinvarra and not coffee from the office perculator.

Once the rain stopped, I decided to hike up to Kinvarra Castle, which sits on a promintory overlooking the town. When I got up there, there were a lot of other people who'd had the same idea. I walked around the perimter and took some photos and read a bit of the history of the place. Lots of people seemed to be gathered around a notice advertising a Medieval Banquet later that night.

Anyway, I didnt have time to stick around for banquets, so I hopped back in the car bound for the beautiful harbour of Ballyvaughan next. It was about 30miles away. On the way, I saw an interesting looking sign for an art gallery. It meant turning right off the route I was on with no indication of how far it might be, but I made a snap decision to go and check it out. I was so glad I did. I almost drove past it, so inconspicuous was it. Situated in a renovated old mill building just back off the road, it would be easy to miss it. The sign outside said Open but it seemed as if there was no around. Nevertheless, I pushed open the door. An unseen bell announced my arrival. Still, there was no sign of anyone. With an inward shrug, I thought I might as well look around. What a beautiful little gallery it was, and deceptively quite big. I saw some amazing paintings, one in particular by a local artist - an abstract of the burren with the most arresting mix of colours. The price tag was a heartstopping €7,000. I could only absorb it and move on. Eventually, I heard some stirrings from the bowels of the building followed by footsteps. A very pleasant looking man poked his head around a doorframe, bade me hello and then left me to my own devices again which I loved. It's rfreshing to be just left to mosey around instead of being watched with an eagle eye from the cash desk. I picked up a great book of short stories, some beautiful local jewellery and some prints. When I was ready to go I peeped into an inner room and the owner was in there with his hands covered in clay. Beaming at me, he said he'd be right with me. Well to cut what's beomcing a long story short, we had a lovely chat for about an hour about all sorts of things - travel, tourists, planning permission in the Irish countryside, wine, Tuscany..you name it! We covered it! His name was Andy, and a lovely lovely man he was. I told him if I win the Lotto I'm coming back for "that painting".

It's funny how the briefest of interactions with other people can brighten your day. I enjoyed talking to him so much. He promised to invite me to their next gallery evening and if he does I will go, despite the distance. Glowing, I hopped back into the Micra and hit the road once again. I passed a lot of unknown territory to me - miles of beautiful rugged coastline, beautiful even in the day's gloomy light. I came around a bend in the road and saw a Martello town on the horizon.

I parked again, and walked along a rough shingle beach towards it. Rain was falling softly again and the silence of the place was impressive. There seemed to be no-one around for miles. This was exactly what I needed. The tower was an imposing grey structure with a forbidding sort of air about it. There wasnt much to do or see once you arrived it. It just seemed like a good spot to walk to.

About a half an hour later, I was cozily ensconsed in a Ballyvaughan cafe, sipping some green tea and indulging in the next chapter of the book. Ballyvaughan seemed very subdued this particular day, due I suppose to the inclement weather. I was really looking forward to the next section of the drive which would bring me through some of the most rugged parts of the Burren along the coast. Revived by my tea, yet again I was back behind the wheel. Now, on a fine day this drive is absolutely stunning with a clear view of the Aran Islands on one side and the rocky crags of the Burren on the other. Today, it was less spectacular its true, but enjoyable nonetheless. As the road wound its way along the cliffs, I could just make out Inisheer on the horizon - in the dense mist, it looked like a big black whale sitting just off shore. I had it in mind to stop at the Cliffs of Moher; however, by the time I reached them it was POURING, so much so that I could barely keep my windscreen clear! To make matters work, the air system in my car is on the fritz and so I couldnt clear the steamy windows very well. Rubbing the screen frantically with the sleeve of my jumper and at the same time navigating the crazy bumpy roads with the other hand, my heart went out to the poors poncho-clad tourists who habitually had to jump off the road into the heather to avoid being soaked, or even worse mowed down!

Anyway, after an hour's driving in those conditions I thought I'd stop and have some food again. Doolin was the next stop. Doolin is a trad music mecca tucked away in the ass-end of Co. Clare and hence a great spot!! I ran from my car in the pelting rain to the Magnetic Music Cafe. It's in an old whitewash cottage with stone floors and its half a cafe, half music store. It does great pizza slices and so I hopped up on a stool at the counter and ordered pizza and a "Blonde Biddie", which is a local brew :D It's run by two very affable Germans who are devotees of Irish trad music. I chatted away to one of them, mainly about the state of Irish weather. I was looking for a good cd of bodhran music and they were able to recommend some good ones. I stayed there for quite a while, just soaking up the atmosphere and feeling a million miles from work. The thing about West Clare is that it has that feel to it - you really feel cut off from "civilization" out there I think.

Eventually towards late afternoon I reluctantly headed back in the direction of home. My spirits were high after such an enjoyable day, having met such friendly and interesting characters. Since I have been away, I really have a new appreciation of what Ireland has to offer. Aside from the cost of it, being a tourist in Ireland must be great fun! It's something I'm going to do much more often.

At the start of September I am going to a bodhran workshop in County Donegal which will be a real treat. Donegal is another spectacular culture-rich part of Ireland and somewhere I havent been to since I was a teenager. It will take place over three days, and I'm looking forward to it immensly - just playing music with other people and staying in a hostel again!

An Unexpected Turn of Events

A bit unexpectedly, it has to be said, I find myself back in my hometown in Ireland. Initially, it was with very mixed feelings that I made the journey home, but after a lot of soul searching and mental grappling, I decided that it was what I needed to do. Now, two weeks later, I am starting to adjust to being here again, and it feels good to be back. I love Ireland and the warmth of its people, and I will soak it up for as long as I am here.

So, what happened?? Primarily, my brother Brian is soon to head off on his own travels for probably 1-2 years. Having been away for 18 months already myself, I wanted to come home and spend some time with him before he goes. That, coupled with the fact that I just had enough of Auckland and not wanting to get into too much debt to travel in Asia, swung the compass needle in the direction of home, and I made a snap decision to reroute my Asia flights. Once I had bitten the bullet, I couldnt wait to see everyone and chose to fly flat out with no stopovers to Dublin.

Needless to say, that was a BEAST of a journey. I had a 10hr layover at Sydney which was a bit bizarre due to the fact that once you are a transiting passenger, there is absolutely no way for you to get outside the airport for fresh air!! You are TRAPPED! So I wandered around the transit lounge and shops like a zombie for most of that time. My British Airways flight to Bangkok left Sydney in the late afternoon. A few hours later, as we flew over the Northern Territory towards Sumatra, I looked down over an expanse of blackness. All that could be seen were occasional bright red worm-like lines in the dark that glowed like lava. I stared at them for a long time trying to figure out what they could be, feeling sure that there were no volcanos in Australia. It eventually occurred to me that what I might have been looking at were coral reefs glowing in the dark. Whatever they were, it was an incredibly beautiful sight from high in the air.

We had to disembark at Bangkok for about an hour, at which point I had got second wind from somwhere. I changed my clothes and washed in the airport, feeling a bit less grotty. Bangkok airport is like something out of a sci-fi movie. Bird music is piped through the building, giving it an eery feeling. The heat, even in the airconditioned buildings, was suffocating having come from a wintery NZ. Lots of new bronzed young backpackers boarded our flight, obviously on their way home from seeing Asia. Looking at them, I realized that, as much as I want to travel there, right then and there I was glad to be going home for a while.

I got into my PJs (and was greeted by some odd looks) for this leg of the journey. I got as cosy as you can in economy class and just watched movies until I eventually konked out. I woke up a few hrs later with a stiff neck, which I forgot about immediately upon raising the shutter on my window. The sun was just beginning to rise and the horizon was an indescribale mix of inky blue and glowing red with flashes of yellow. My camera, unfortunately, was packed away and unreachable. Below us lay the brown endlessdeserts of Afghanistan. Home still felt a long way away.

We arrived late into London and it was a bit of a scramble to get through the long lines at security and rush to the gate for my connecting flight to Dublin. The weather in Heathrow was sunny and warm, and I was glad to be arriving home in the middle of the summer. Upon landing in Dubiln though, we were met with low grey clouds and rain splashing off the tarmac. WHAT ELSE IN NEW!!I really coulnd't have cared at that point though, and all I cared about was seeing Brian who I knew was waiting in the Arrivals Hall for me.

After the initial high of seeing him and exchanging hellos, we headed into Dublin City to O'Donoghue's pub on the Green to meet a friend for lunch. A group of musicians were playing live trad and, even though the rain was hopping off the cobblestones, I had a warm feeling all over to be back. A few toasted specials and pints of Guinness later, we were back on the road to Limerick.I hadnt told my parents I was coming back, so I was met with stunned silence by both of them. LOL. I managed to stay up as late as possible to try and get my body used to the time change. I didnt surface for almost 36 hrs though, and I was disorientated until the end of last week, waking at 4 in the morning.

It's strange being back after being gone for a year and a half. At first glances, things dont seem to have changed much, but there are telltale signs of the progress the country has made in the time I have been gone. For the first few days, I felt out of place and quite low. As the days passed, however, I am being re-assimilated into my old way of life here. It's comforting because I know now what my plans are for the foreseeable future. Asia is certainly still very much on the cards, and I'm considering a move to London for further study. Trying to coordinate and fund it all is the challenge, but one I welcome. Life is full of exciting choices right now, and where better to be for the time being than back at home with friends and family while I'm dreaming up the next chapters!

Kicking Back in Kerry

By 4 o'clock on Friday afternoon, I was so bored at work that my head had gone numb and I was contemplating saying a number of very rude and expletive things to my boss. Just in time, my brother rang to tell me he'd made a snap decision to pack up the car and head to Dingle for the weekend. Was I up for it???

All that was left of me in the office car park at 5:30 were some big black skid-marks! :D

Got home, threw some essentials in my pack and we hit the road. The weather forecast for the wknd was promising blue skies and lots of sun, and it was certainly shaping up that way. Apart from a pitstop in Tralee for petrol and some Mars bars, we made Dingle in just over two hours. Even though we'd packed the tent and camping gear in the boot of the car, we rang ahead to the Rainbow Hostel and, as luck would have it, they had one twin room left! Rainbow Hostel is a great spot! A spotlessly clean hostel with good facilities and about 10 mins walk from Dingle. (meant to take a photo but forgot )

Headed straight into town to Conaire's pub to meet up with my brother's friends. One of them is jsut back from a few months in India, so I was happy to spend a few hours picking her brains and listening to all her travel stories. Conaire's was quite a lively spot - there was a trad band in the for the night and the walls of the pub were pratically heaving with ppl up dancing and singing. We fancied somewhere a bit more chilled out after a few hrs, so we decided to check out the wine bar up the street. This place was really nice - you would not expect to find it in Dingle. It serves quite late, and has some of the best pizza Ive ever tasted! Yum. After a few glasses of wine, we all meandered homewards emjoying the warmth of the night.

10:30 a.m. Saturday. Woken by LOUD knocking at our door telling us we had to get up. Groan. Pain in head. Meant to drink at least two glasses of water before bed last night....We had to get up and get dressed, get our thing together pretty quickly. Initially, we were told that Sat night was booked out at the hostel, but when we went downstairs to pay, the girl in charge told us she had just had a cancellation and asked if we'd liek to stay another night. We could have stayed in bed after all....LOL. Oh well, it was good to be up anyway. After dumping our gear back upstairs, getting on some new clothes and washing up, we decided breakfast sounded good. We walked into town to wake ourselves up. I love the smell of the sea air! And what an amazing morning - blue sky, sun sparking on the water and on the boats - it was good to be alive.

This is where we had breakast - Darcy's. I had scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, lots of fresh coffee, orange juice and toast. Pain in the head was gone within a few mins and I was right as rain.!

The day was stretching out ahead of us with lots of possibilities - we could go swimming, we could sit outside in the sun and read, we could explore the town....in the end we decided to go for a hike. At the mouth of the bay, there was a hill with a look-out tower at the top which looked interesting, so we piled into the car and drove out along the bay to the foot of this.

The heat was really starting to build up by now, and I wasnt relishing the thought of encasing my feet in my big hiking boots, so i opted to leave on my sandals. Mistake! Half-way up the hill we came upon what seemed like oceans of gorse!! I had to trudge through this for at least 15 mins. Ow! Ow! Ow!

But the pain was definitely worth it. The views of Dingle from the top were spectacular. YOu really wouldn't think you were in Ireland.It was more like Croatia or the South of France or something.

We spent a couple of hours lying in the sun and chatting, and soaking it all up. This is Ireland at its best. We dont often get weather like this.

Eventually, when we all started to feel hungry and thirsty, we made our way back down. We arranged to meet a friend out in Ballyferriter, so we took the Slea Head drive out past DunChaoin and the Blaskets. It was funny to see the confused tourists standing out with their English language maps looking at the Irish roadsigns. Lol!!

This is a beehive hut that we spotted at along the way.
We spent the rest of the day out in Ballyferriter drinking in the sun. When the sun eventually went down heaeded back into Dingle for something to eat. Spent the rest of the night crawling the pubs and listening to the Irish lads winding up the American tourists. It was hilarious!! LOL. Ended up back in the wine bar to finish off the night. Didnt crawl into bed until well after four.

Sunday More knocking at 10:30a.m. Up, shower, pack, back into Darcy's for brekkie. Everyone feeling very tired this morning. Decided on a short walk around the headland at the mouth of the bay to wake us up. Found a secluded little beach and spent the next few hours watching Fungi the Dolphin in the water. He followed some jet-skiers right up to where we were, and jumped out of the water metres away. I'm a big kid, so this was the highlight of my day! I got pretty sunburned even though the weather was cloudy in the morning, so eventually I had to reluctantly leave the beach and head back.

In the afternoon, one of my brother's friends was having a barbeque to celebrate her birthday, so we picked up food, beer and a present. The bbq was great, and I ended up being head chef. Lol! I'm still waiting for the phone calls to say taht they are all dying with food-poisoning. We ate until we couldnt eat anymore, and then the weather turned and the mist started to move in from the sea. At about 8 o'clock we packed up the car, and headed back to Limerick, relaxed, full and very tired.

I fell in love with DIngle this weekend. Its a really vibrant town but its not overrun with tourists, and there's so much to see and do down there. I'll definitely be going back for a long weekend very very soon.