Based on my understanding of math, day 35 marks the end of week five. After a room service breakfast identical to yesterday's, it was simply time to get in the car. But first, one must check the map.
Do not get in the car until you know where you are going. Fortune cookie wisdom.
This is Kilcolgan. There's a certain charm to these towns that consist of just a few blocks and maybe one roundabout.
We still had nearly half a tank, but only a fool pushes their luck. I found it necessary to document this act. When will I be pumping gas in Ireland again?
Sometimes, the rain comes down so hard it is literally a sheet. Madness, I tell you.
This is Gort, a larger village than Kilcolgan. I often imagine life in these villages as being not completely unlike the great film "Local Hero" or perhaps the show "Northern Exposure," only with a lot more drinking and controlled substances. Everyone you see looks like they can drink you under the table and/or pop pills like Tic Tacs. No judgment there. I think we'd all do the same if our entertainment choices were either watching traffic go by or hitting the pub.
By the way, when the writer(s) of the original "The Day The Earth Stood Still" named the giant robot protector Gort, did they know that is a town in Western Ireland?
Proof that it did not always rain. Hey, would Ireland be green without rain? Absolutely not.
Limerick has a modern, glass skyscraper. If you think I would tell a Limerick joke, shame on you. I'm offended. If there's one thing I don't reach for it is the low hanging fruit.
That building looks old, no? You always need to take pictures of old buildings. It's like a rule or something.
Sometimes I find it surprising that you do not see more cloud imagery in painting. You know, I bet it's just too damn difficult to capture clouds with a paint brush. I will ask my artist friends that one. Because, seriously, is there anything more beautiful than clouds?
Some villages are not very pretty. Easy to tell the ones who want tourist money from those that are content to watch you drive through.
I see cows every 5-10 minutes, and every time I see them I do two things. First, I say, "Moo-cows!" One never knows if your spouse has spotted the moo-cows as well. Second, I think, "Rats, you know, I'm never going to get a pic of moo-cows because we go by too fast." But I was able to get this pic of a moo-cow crossing, which is verifiable proof that many cows were spotted. By the way, the cows I have seen in Ireland must be the happiest I have ever seen. They are always widely dispersed, with a huge amount of area to graze. No factory farming here. Of course, this is based on the idea that the cows do not care about rain. If these Irish cows would prefer to stay dry, then they are bummed little moo-cows.
We arrived in Killarney right on time. This is a rare, "Checking in," pic.
As planned, we got in our room, threw on the Wimbledon Men's Final, and ordered room service. Epic match. I would feel badly for Roddick, but let me fill you in on something. Andy Roddick was leafing through the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue one day and spotted Brooklyn Decker. He liked what he saw enough to ask his manager to call her people and set something up. A few years later they got married. So, you see, Andy Roddick ordered a wife out of Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit Issue the same way that Barbie and I ordered room service to watch the match. More power to him, I say, but I will never feel sorry for the man.
We went for a walk, and I stuck my arms through the gate to get this unblocked pic of Killarney's Catholic church.
There was some sort of festival in Killarney, complete with street performers. Now, a busker is a beggar with a guitar. A street performer, well, that's a beggar with an entire act. This fellow was doing some sort of magic, but I was more interested in capturing the crowd than him.
Probably just someone's home, but they have chosen to put paintings of Rubenesque women in the windows. And the building looks old. Two solid reasons to take a pic of it.
Irish Graffiti. Actually, small town Irish Graffiti. In a highway underpass in a larger town was a dirty word. The dirtiest, one might say. Like a cow, it was gone before I could get its picture.
Beggars with an act involving shiny jackets. They had a pretty large crowd.
Their crowd included the women in those windows up there. No time for a finger. Even outside California, I believe it is illegal for me to be within 50 feet of a street performer. Don't judge me. You would have done what I did. Don't pretend you wouldn't.
Gah! They're everywhere we turn!
Generic Killarney pic. See, without street performers it's quite charming.
Carnival!
No matter how rusty the rides, no matter how many scruffy teens, no matter how old and weathered the Homer Simpson dolls are... you have to love a carnival.
It was extra fun for us to see this, the "Hollywood" house. Kind of like a haunted house ride, only instead of jumping out at you from behind a corner with a "Boo!" they shout, "I have a great idea for a movie!" Also, they all think that they can do your job better than you even though they've never done it before, because they do not see what is so difficult about (acting/directing/writing/producing/etc.)
Look what is next to our hotel. Tomorrow, after driving the Ring of Kerry, it's movietime. That tree is blocking a Häagen-Dazs. Double win.
This is the Killarney Methodist Church. Now, I'm not trying to make trouble, but this is just a few hundred feet from the Catholic Church and I cannot help but wish for a Jets-versus-Sharks-like singing and dancing rumble on the street between the two churches.
Asian tourists taking pictures. No stereotyping, please. I have taken over three thousand, six hundred pics in 35 days. Madness. And now, after the fact, I am ashamed that I did not offer to take their picture together. By the way, another source of great joy in Galway was its healthy Asian population. We heard more than one Asian teen speaking with a thick Irish accent. How fantastic is that?
Back at the hotel, we hit the pool. And Barbie, well, she wanted to point out the finer details of this pool maiden.
Outside was a genuine hot tub. Finally, after a series of mildly warm jacuzzis, we get a Hot Tub. (At this point you should have the Eddie Murphy as James Brown "Hot Tub" song in your head.)
The park behind our hotel, which might explain it being the, "Killarney Park Hotel."
The feet prepare to be delighted by the hot tub.
It began to rain, and Barbie went inside. I realize now that I just look insane, but I think I was trying to look happy to be in a hot tub in the rain. But really, I look like I should be in a small room with padded walls.
Ah. If you do not take the time to rest in a hot tub when you have the chance, particularly when you are on a long journey, well, then there's nothing I can do to help you. And life is a long journey, dummy. Get in a hot tub.
35 days completed. 24 days ahead. Time for bed.
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