Europe Day 35 of 59, Galway to Killarney

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.

Europe Day 34 of 59, Galway, Ireland

Today is the day that we get to know Galway, Ireland, particularly its history. Like we do in all cities, we read up on Galway and learned that the city center features a church built in 1320 and the Spanish Arch built in 1564. In medieval times, this port city was the island's main site of trade with Spain and France, which lead to it being fairly multicultural and independent from the rest of Ireland. In fact, Galway often opposed many of the political decisions made over in Dublin.

Room service breakfast is complimentary, and a great way to start the day.

For no reason at all, the elevator in "the g" opens on the lobby no matter what. We got on at our floor, hit the button for the basement, and then the dang doors open onto the lobby with nobody waiting, and then close and take us where we want to go. This is not a problem, it's just odd. So this morning I had my iPhone ready to document the oddity. Also, there are always people sitting there and they always glance at you in the elevator and then look away. This morning they glanced over to a man taking their picture. Revenge served cold.

We got the Galway's city center and immediately found the pedestrian only area with tons of shops. It was a warm, lovely day, and locals had clearly joined the tourists in enjoying the sunshine.

There were lots of buskers along the walkways, or as we call them, "beggars with guitars." There were even beggars with violins, flutes, and one just singing.

But this one was interesting. "Beggar with sand," I think I'd have to call her. This picture doesn't do justice, by the way. This sand sculpture looked exactly like a resting dog and puppy.

There it is, St. Nicholas' Collegiate Church. It is the largest medieval church still in everyday use in Ireland. It was founded in 1320 and enlarged in the following two centuries. I stepped inside and happened upon something resembling an AA meeting, and stepped back through the door faster than you can imagine.

Outside the church was a lovely farmer's market. If you think people is fancy Los Angeles neighborhoods are the only people who get farmer's markets, you'd clearly be wrong.

Cute restaurant name, no?

In the window of Born, a shop which is Ireland's version of, well, a clothing store for young women and older women who want to dress like young women, was this terribly cute window display.

A view of the canal next to the River Corrib.

Across the river, one easily spots the Galway Cathedral. Completed in 1965, it could certainly fool you into thinking it is much older. According to Wikipedia: It has an eclectic style, with renaissance dome, pillars and round arches, and a Romanesque portico that dominates the main facade — an unusual feature in modern Irish church building. It was suggested by a church in the city of Salamanca in Spain.

You know me and cathedrals, got to get a picture of the dome.

Beautiful, no?

Is it me or was Jesus not a big fan of people doing business in places of worship? Just asking. Not trying to make trouble.

We wandered back through the city to Eyre Square, which is a park in the center of town. On a sunny day, it was absolutely lovely and filled with happy people.

Today is, you know, July 4th. Independence Day for the USA. What were the odds we would come across a monument to a POTUS in Ireland on July 4? Yet here it is, a monument to JFK in Galway, Ireland. JFK became a Freeman of Galway in 1963, which I did not research but I figure that means official citizen. I also did not research this statement, but I figure the term "Freeman" has a lot to do with living under feudalism's lords and kings.

For the record, we stood at the JFK Monument and sang the Star Spangled Banner. Twice. As we started a third rendition, we were asked to leave. (For those lacking fiction detectors, the singing did not happen. I would never use the blog to mislead without a parenthetical correction.)

Busker Alert! Beggar with a guitar! In this case, the finger is pointing out that Barbie hates THIS.

One of Santa Monica, California's best pubs is The King's Head. Would I not take a picture of The King's Head in Galway? I didn't realize when I took this pic that they had the USA flag on display. We could have stood there and sung the Star Spangled Banner!

Here it is, the Spanish Arch, built in 1564. Again, a lot of trade with Spain came through this port. In fact, Christopher Columbus is documented to have come through Galway. That is cool, no?

Swans. In this setting, they are rats with feathers and long necks.

For lunch we grabbed some Asian cuisine.

Pad Thai in Ireland. Can you do any less?

Okay, this was amazing. This is a young woman walking her albino ferret on a leash. Is there any part of the sentence that isn't amazing? Have you ever seen a ferret being walked along a promenade on a leash? Ever see an albino ferret? We literally just checked all those boxes in one swoop.

Back at the hotel, it was spa time.

I know this looks beautiful, but what you don't know is that this spa's "quiet room," the place where they stick you to wait your massage, faces a shopping center of ugly, white buildings. Somehow they managed to make all of that disappear.

Beyond those trees one finds a PC store, toy store, and other unattractive businesses. That's what I call architectural and landscaping innovation. (Look closely for the lower case "g" on the sandals.)

After my massage. Amber lighting. Could have chosen purple or green. Considering one's eyes are closed for the entirety of a massage, I chose the color that would allow the masseuse to see best.

Time for dinner and a hotel tour. The hotel restaurant is at the end of a series of lounges, each with a different theme.

Lounge number one, the one you see from the elevator.

Lounge two, which I am sure everyone calls, "the pink one."

Lounge three, which has a more general European theme. Not as easy to name, so let's go with, "Phil."

Dinner at, "Matz at the g."

The back of the menu lists the executive chef from Germany, (whose last name is Matz), the head chef from France, and the restaurant manager who is a lovely young Irishwoman named Orla. She talked to us and charmed us off of our feet, she did.

My First Course: Cream of green apple soup, with basil jellies of crabmeat and avocado. Are you kidding me? One of the best soups I have ever tasted.

My Main Course: Lasagne of local monkfish loins, with melted summer vegetables and turmeric cream. Outstanding. These dudes can cook it up.

Barbie's Main Course: Pan seared fillet of organic sea trout, on smoked haddock crushed potatoes with fennel butter sauce. Excellent.

Shared Dessert: Carrot and orange cake, green tea soaked prunes, with mascarpone ice cream.

It was, how you say, a good meal.

An unwelcome surprise awaited us in our room. The internet was out. Full WiFi signal, but no internet connected to it. I wanted to tell the hotel how to turn off and turn back on the modem, but they said that they had to wait for their IT guy to come. Shame. By the way, did you know that WiFi is a meaningless term? They were trying to come up with a name for it and took the "Wi" for wireless and the "Fi" from "HiFi." But "WiFi" itself is meaningless.

(That was not trivia. It is a useful fact.)

Road trip tomorrow.