Looking out to the Cliffs of Moher. See the little castle near the center? That's where everyone else was. Note the lovely storm clouds.

Where can you find mighty good craic* and streets full of people wearing green and orange? Why, Ireland during St. Patty's Day, of course!

Anne and I left Spain last Wednesday headed for Dublin. We spent most of that day lost, but we did manage to find the Old Jameson Distillery. There we took a tour of a now defunct distillery as they actually make their whiskey in Midleton. Our guide asked for two female and two male volunteers to be whiskey taste testers and we quickly raised our glasses--I mean, hands--for the opportunity. That was a neat experiment as we discovered the differences between the best-selling Scottish whiskey (Johnny Walker Red), the best-selling American whiskey (Jack Daniels, which I correctly guessed when asked!), and three of Jameson's whiskies. Even more fun was that we hadn't actually eaten lunch or dinner and it had been raining off and on all day.

In Thursday we headed for Galway. In Madrid we had met Irish friend Ryan who was from Galway and he seconded that it was a great city to visit. We found that to be true as it's much smaller than Dublin and there are plenty of pubs around the central Eyre Square. We only visited one as we were leaving for Doolin the next morning.

Ah, Doolin. Quite possibly the best part of the whole trip. We arrived in the village (for it's much too tiny to be anything close to a city…in fact, "village" might be pushing it a bit) in the afternoon and decided to head to the nearby Cliffs of Moher. Our host told us about the scenic route and how it would take two hours to walk there. We didn't think that was unreasonable, but in retrospect maybe we should have been wary when his directions began with, "You'll come to a metal fence; jump it." Beside the metal fence was a sign that read, "Dangerous cliffs ahead!" We went around the fence and followed the natural line of the cliffs until it became a wee bit too dangerous. Anne wore flats that didn't have much traction and a fall would have meant splatterment on the flat rocks below. No bueno. We spent the next hour or so crossing wet bogs, falling into the stream, and crossing wire fences meant to keep sheep from cliff diving. Then it started to rain. Several times Anne's shoes got sucked into the mud and she had to dig them out with her hands as she stood in her socks. The cliffs start out small at the Doolin end and get bigger as you walk towards the visitor center. So, after 2 hours we finally got to see the fruits of our labor in the way of sheer drop cliffs. The view was incredible, and it was so quiet as we were the only ones out there. (All the smarter, less adventurous people took the road and were hence at the visitor center.) Three nice gents from Bristol offered to give us a lift back to Doolin, saving us two more hours. Thanks, guys! We might have returned dirty, wet and a little more tired but it was definitely worth it. We ended the night with a trip to one of Doolin's three pubs.

We had planned to visit the Aran Islands the next day, but the weather was too bad and we decided to sleep in and relax. We ended up playing cards with a German couple and visiting another of Doolin's pubs where I watched my first ever rugby game. Interesting sport, that. Looked brutal. As we finished dinner, we met a trio of German boys who were making Cambodian stew. They invited us to join them, so we did. Yum! Then we went back to the pub to listen to some music.

On Sunday, we had planned to leave Doolin at 8:45am, but when I made those plans I completely forgot that the buses run less frequently on Sundays. We therefore had to wait until 1:45pm to head back into Galway. We got back just in time to hit the grocery store. Everything in Ireland closes at about 6 or 6:30pm; I think this is so they can visit a pub for dinner. We made dinner at our hostel (a cheeseburger as my roomie doesn't eat red meat so our family doesn't make it) and then ventured out to a pub. I like the camaraderie in pubs; everyone talks and laughs and has a great time. However, the one thing they don't seem to do is dance. And I don't get that because every pub has live music. Hmmmm.

Monday was St. Patty's Day and even if I'd have never celebrated the day before it would have been obvious it was a holiday. Scores of people packed the streets dressed in Ireland's colors and wearing novelty hats. Young kids had shamrocks painted on their cheeks and older ones had striped green hair. I heard a variety of languages and accents around me as we stood watching the parade. It's been years since I watched a parade, so that was neat. Something that caught my attention was that every group had a mix of ages. For example, in the trombone section of one band there were a preteen girl and a man old enough to be her grandfather playing side by side. Sweet, no?

After the parade we had a drink with lunch, then went shopping. We had meant to go out and find a place to dance, but I was feeling a little nauseous and as we had to be up at 6:30am, we decided to just visit another pub for a spell.

Six thirty came way too early. We were soon on a 7:05am bus to Cork. The ride was nearly four and a half hours, and upon arrival we caught a packed bus to Blarney. That's right, we were visiting the famed castle and stone. The only flaw to this plan was that we still had our luggage since we were flying out of Dublin early Wednesday morning. We solved this problem by stashing our bags behind the ladies' room on the estate. The castle itself is long past livable but we did, indeed, head to the top to see the stone. A funny gentleman gave us directions on how to sit and lean back to kiss it as he held us for just-in-case reasons. Ireland has an abundance of warm, friendly people but that man probably took the cake. Afterwards we visited the rock garden and the beautiful grounds before heading back to Cork so we could return to Dublin.

We arrived at the Dublin Airport at about 10:30pm and played cards for most of the night until our 6:20am flight. The flight lasted three hours and we then waited two more to catch our bus for the five hour ride home. I was glad to be back in Granada, but I hadn't realized that it was going to be insane. All the buses were being rerouted due to the processions for La Semana Santa (the Holy Week). If you weren't Catholic and you saw their costumes, you might be kinda freaked out. Actually, as the KKK stole their costume design from the Semana Santa wearers, you might be a lot freaked out. The idea is that the procession is one of penance and so is private. Hence, the head to toe outfits complete with mask and pointy hat. Each neighborhood has different colors and I imagine this helps in the event that someone gets separated from the rest.

Ok, don't want to write another book. I'll just say: Ireland was AWESOME (add it to your vacation list) and Happy Easter!

*"craic" is how the Irish say "fun."