After spending three nights near the Irish Sea, which is the all-important body of water that basically keeps the Irish from being English, it was time for us to follow the lead of the brave pioneers of the USA and head West.
But first, we had to pack up and leave the Powerscourt Rtiz Carlton, which in its own way was as uncomfortable as leaving the womb. (Especially after yesterday's pool discovery.)
One last look at the Ritz Carlton Powerscourt lobby. I always had the feeling that the other guests would see me walking to the elevator in Levi's and a tee shirt and think to themselves, "What on Earth is that doing here?"
Enough of that. Time to head West. The drive from the Dublin area to Galway actually takes us from the Irish Sea on Ireland's East coast to the Atlantic Ocean on Ireland's West coast. Sort of like driving from New York to Oregon in the same time it takes to drive from San Diego to Los Angeles. (Hitting some nasty traffic around Oceanside, so that the drive takes 3 hours.)
Just in case you were curious about today's drive, here it is on display. The convenience of the internet is on display here as well.
Before we got on the road, we decided to drive by the Powerscourt Gardens again. Remember the picture on yesterday's blog of the large, stone manor in the dim, cloudy early evening?
This should jog your memory.
Today was sunny, warm and beautiful, and more than one person at the hotel told us, "You just HAVE to go to the gardens." When we pulled out of the hotel, and the right turn represented the three hour drive to Galway and the left turn the 3 minute drive to the gardens, we were sincerely coin tossing. But Barbie decided we should check it out.
We were glad that we did.
When you first exit the house towards the garden, you are immediately hit by a beautiful vista of statues, landscaping, and rolling hills. And Mrs. Howard.
Apollo, looking like he once held a sword that broke off. I got up close, and see that white area? Marble. A lot of weather has worn him down, but he still looks quite immortal with that sky behind him. By the way, wouldn't "Apollo's Sword" be a wicked name for a heavy metal band?
Diana, representing the women. You walk between Apollo and Diana to see the garden on the slope in front of you, as a stone pathway with steps guides you to the dirt paths.
But you have to turn around and look back at the house. House? More like a manor. There's Diana again.
I suppose when I called this a stone pathway I was under-selling it a tad.
A nice man insisted on taking our picture for us, and then was horrified to be handed an iPhone. But I gave him a quick lesson and he did well!
Another pic of a pic being taken. Remember, this is all behind the house, which means it was built for the private pleasure of its residents and not to impress the neighbors. Of course, I imagine the neighbors were the people whose taxes paid for all this, and to see the garden might have lead to a revolt of some sort. Word has it that the first Viscount of Powerscourt was a personal friend of Queen Elizabeth I. Good company to keep, I imagine.
Below the main gardens, one found the Japanese garden.
Barbie posing in a very cool rock cove sort of thing. What do you call this? I have no idea.
The Japanese garden. None of the plants appear to be from Japan, but there is a pagoda and some stone carved Japanese looking things. That's the closest Ireland gets to Japanese gardens, I suppose.
Two older Irish women had just pointed at this and said, in disgusted tones, "That's some muck there, isn't it." I had to take this pic and point out that the muck is THERE.
See the little Japanese bridge? It inspired me to do some, well, let's not name it, shall we?
Two pics of me in a row? Don't expect that to happen much. This pose is an homage to the naked poses of my youth on that endless dirt road in rural Texas. I was once, shall we say, adventurous.
I guess I was feeling silly. Could you be surrounded by rock walls and not imitate a shy lizard? "Shy Lizard" would not be a good name for a metal band.
The shy lizard pose was done standing THERE.
Triton Lake. I would need a zoom lens for you to see the Triton statue. For those who love facts -- not trivia, Facts -- Triton was the messenger of the deep and son of Poseidon, god of the sea.
The Pet Cemetery. Seriously. And, yes, that pet there earned itself an Obelisk.
Which pet earned the obelisk? "Sting," a dog who died at the age of 12 on May 21, 1912. The plaque reads, "Faithful beyond human fidelity." If you think about it, dogs are infinitely more faithful than humans.
Not only do these cows get a tombstone, but their number of calves and gallons of milk are listed! CSFTW! (Cow Stats For The Win!)
Above the pet cemetery one finds the walled garden with this crest above the gate.
I had no choice but to think to myself, "During his wife's trip to London, the Viscount of Powerscourt took advantage of 17 young maidens in THAT room."
The Viscount's Mother's tomb. A closer pic I took of the plaque and bust creeped me out.
These two boys were about as cute as can be. Clearly best friends, running everywhere together as if tied by a rope. Joining them and their mothers was a single, fairly young man. They were Russian, and both Barbie and I came to the conclusion that he had wisely chosen to have children with a set of two brides, one blond and one brunette.
Victory. Fame was on the other side of Diana, and she gets the short end of the stick placement-wise. The path does not take you to Fame, while to get to the exit you must pass Victory.
Check it out. Apollo is totally showing bare ass.
Another shot of Apollo with clouds and sky that is a bit too good to not make the blog.
Barbie's turn to stand with a statue.
Okay. Time to head to the car and drive clear across the belt of Ireland. I have no idea if that term exists, but if this island of Ireland was a person, we would definitely be driving along the belt.
Experienced travellers know, you do not drive for a few hours without bringing snacks. Rtiz crackers are a particularly wise choice. Why? Extra chewing tricks the brain into feeling full. Harvard Medical School has published many studies about the Ritz Road Trip Effect.
One thing about driving in Ireland... the sun can be out, you can see a dark cloud ahead, and BAM. About as fast as you can imagine, you are in a torrential downpour. Rain drops so large the rain is a sheet.
Then the rain is gone as quickly as it arrived.
Barbie went to college in Utah, so this pic was absolutely necessary. Now, can anyone guess why a store in central Ireland is called, "Utah"? Me either. No clue.
This dark cloud threatened but did not pour rain on us. But you can see how close together light and dark skies can be.
Right on schedule, we arrived at the hotel.
We are staying at, "the g." They use lower case for everything. I am merely being faithful to their concept.
See! The cupcakes waiting for us in our room feature a "g"! It is a funky, ultramodern place. Yet it adjoins a shopping centre with many shops including a PC World, Sony Store, and movie theater.
On the way in, I had spotted what looked like an American style burger joint. I made Barbie walk there for lunch, and we came to... "Eddie Rockets." Do you think the creators of Eddie Rockets ever visited the USA chain Johnnie Rockets? Let us examine.
Hmmm.
Hmmmmmm.
Well now that's just... oh, who cares if this is an exact copy of Johnnie Rockets. How's the food?
Cheeseburger, Chili Fries, and Chocolate shake. All damn good. And talk about the comforts of home. When I went up to pay the bill, next to the register Eddie Rockets had a sheet with the schedule of films at the cinema next door. I glanced at it and saw, "The Hangover," which most of our friends saw and liked at home while we've been gone. It began in 20 minutes.
Why not see a movie? No point in driving somewhere to sight see. Hello? We just drove three hours. After walking into the cinema, it was honestly hard to remember we were in a foreign country.
I did not tell her to point THERE. I said, "Point at his butt." My wife chose that specific spot. Which, in truth, is why I married her.
Proof? You wanted proof? There's your proof, people.
In case you wondered what the cinemas in Galway are like, this one is as new and modern as most in Los Angeles. A bit smaller, but Galway, Ireland's thrid largest city, is home to 75,000 people. They do not need gigantic cinemas. (Yes, I am adopting the European distinction. In every country here, I've noticed "Theaters" are for live entertainment such as plays and musicals while "Cinemas" are where movies are shown. "Movie Theater" is a term for North America. A place that I hardly remember at this point.)
We enjoyed the movie, came back to the hotel, got to work, and now Barbie is asleep in her clothes while I type this on the bed with CNN on the TV. Oh how I wish to discuss this Sarah Palin resignation, but I choose to stay loyal the blog's true nature as a travel log. Tomorrow we hit the old city of Galway, though there are massages scheduled for the late afternoon. Who dares me to take the iPhone to the massage?
