gratitude to Ryanair and fitted with hand luggage only landing in Dublin in the evening.
After consuming the first meal so Irish, we head to the desk where the Murray's there waiting for the smiling lady Micra and especially the bright red steering wheel on the right.
Around the airport there are road works everywhere, especially that enriches the pathos and cursing my first few miles of driving on the left.
We booked a room in a hotel on the Naas Road. We come with discrete problems. The first rain greets us: ok we are in ireland. We put to bed, the holiday will start tomorrow.
Day 1
we wake up soon, we pay for the room, we climb into the car, looking for a place to have breakfast (tea and sweets) and we are lucky because there we have to pay the M50. For the uninitiated, the M50 is a sort of ring road of Dublin without pay toll. Rate (3 euros for the car) you can pay in gas stations, newsstands-market acceptance.
The first stop on our tour is Cill Chainnigh (Kilkenny), for beer, but also because it was the medieval capital. We arrive mid-morning. Parking, for a fee. The town is tiny and runs nicely on foot. The steps required are the castle and the cathedral with the adjacent park and cemetery with plenty of Celtic crosses.
the rain with us and take refuge in Kyteler's Inn, a pub former coaching town in 1300 by Alice Kyteler, a witch who escaped the stake. Eat. Ah yes, good food and lots. 'Sti huge pieces of meat, well cooked,' ste potatoes, 'sti contours. All good. The pubs of Ireland eat well throughout the holiday. Of course we drink Smithwick's and Kilkenny. I am ashamed to ask for "a glass" for Loretta. They come to drink two pints I mercilessly. Ripasseggiamo for Kieran's Street because Lorenzo is looking for a coffee, his goodness. It accontenterrà a pastarelle stuffed something that will last up to Cill Airne (Killarney).
The ride (200 km), due to persistent downpour, is long and tiring. But the green land is already in our hearts. The LHD is always more pleasant. I get used on drill round to overtake the tractor, the sheep by the roadside, but I still find it difficult to turn right. The trees sometimes form natural galleries, waterproof, glossy. Here's a trickle, another that magically across the street. The vegetation is more dense: who knows where I'm going, then the road opens up, pops out a pub with three houses around, disappears behind, now a school, a cemetery. I keep wondering why this seems normal to me so wonderfully. Even stop to pee behind a tree is normal and wonderful.
We arrive in Killarney in mid-afternoon, we reach the B & B and after a quick shower we are already out, headed to the immense park meadows, woods, lakes and castles. Walk that will last hours and will enhance our surprise baby. The humble perfection of nature, the serenity that gives us. It will only be in the evening and I will share the first Loredana pints of Guinness. We have to the festive air that you breathe only in the emerald island pub. The talk with the Irish, with the tourists, with the classic folk group that organizes two square meters in a super concert. Ideally staggering and with the full bladder, the more that I loredana, back to little house, dreaming of a full Irish breakfast.
Day 2
sausages, mushrooms, eggs, bacon and beans (the latter barely touched) are a good fuel to start the day. Killarney is a good bunt base for touring the Ring of Kerry circuit of about 180 km around the Iveragh Peninsula which offers the usual, never dull and always the most exciting, evocative scenes. Ocean and mountains, barren coasts, cliffs, fishing villages off the beaten trails, rerouting unknown. The Ring of Kerry is well taken: the parties focus maybe two or three points to watch, and then you make your instincts. Breathtaking views, we stop a thousand and one and a thousand and one time we turn between moors and high mountains. Views of lakes, distant houses, sheep on the road sculettano happy and slow down the pace, the already very stiff micra. And then get in the top of the hill, the world at your feet, the wind that makes you cry first and then wipes her tears.
eat, and will be the best dining, fresh seafood and delicious. We went to the charm. Houses painted in bright colors, happy as the people that live there.
In the evening we tired, we are in Tralee, swear not to have a navigator, who knows where our new B & B.
Day 3 We wake up refreshed. The B & B we found it, but do not remember exactly how.
The nice lady asked me to salmon and eggs: how to refuse. Scrambled eggs with salmon will remain my favorite breakfast. Loredana choose some good pancakes with fresh fruit and jams. Juice, yogurt and tea. Obviously rake it all. Well as homemade biscuits. Tralee should be one step closer al Clare, la regione delle Cliffs of Moher, le Scogliere. In realtà la signora ci consiglia di non tralasciare il tour del Ring di Dingle, altra penisola dai paesaggi incantevoli. Decidiamo che ce la possiamo fare. Partiamo a razzo. La giornata è anche soleggiata, di un sole timido, ma di una luce intensa. I monti si fanno più aspri e ovviamente le spettacolari viste dietro l'angolo ancora più sconvolgenti. Ci fermiamo a mangiare qualcosa, anche un gelato fatto in casa, in un bar a picco sull'oceano. Tra forti dell'età del ferro, capanne cristiane e croci pagane la natura si fa arrogante, invincibile. I segnali stradali abbandonano la lingua inglese, in favore della gaelica. Diamo un passaggio ad un giovane francese fino alla coloratissima Dingle.
A ferry saves us a bit 'street. We reach the Clare and looking to our left we see the cliffs grow taller, we get to the Cliffs.
do not think I be able to describe the primordial feelings of joy mixed with fear. Of helplessness and size together. Wonder eye moved. Me and Loretta we go only to the tower that never reach too far and it will be a regret, the gulls that nest beneath our feet, the ocean that breaks 200 feet below, the look that loses contact with the forms . Sitting in silence watching the sky, the sea and we look in his eyes, surprised.
We would not go away, but it's dark and we bring all find a place that makes us to eat. We reach Doolin, where we will sleep. We have dinner in a beautiful and very noisy pub. A chat with the locals, some 'live music and plenty of good beer.
Day 4
For breakfast there is the fireplace. For us southerners, in mid-August, is just too much.
The day is spooky. The water did in the days before is in heaven. Indeed, he was in heaven. Can not watch the Burren, decides to get in the car to Connemara. The move is long, we do not know where to stop. We aim Clifden. After choosing the B & B for the night and eating in a restaurant, we go back in the car On the Sky Road, a circular path, which still offers spectacular views of the Atlantic, and among the lakes of the bog, we discover the radio station from which Marconi sent the first transatlantic message. We cross the fishing villages, we are home again. A pub, a traditional music by Mickey Martin and a salute to the ocean, now head back to Dublin.
Day 5
last breakfast in a B & B. I miss it when you get the other side of the island. In the evening we will be in Dublin, but before we are dedicated to Connemara. Lakes, rivers, fertile plains alternate vortex rugged coastline. Climb the Diamond Hill, glue your shoes unsuitable until we surrender. Then we go up we go down to the valley, crossing bridges and rough prohibited. We play to get lost in the dense vegetation, discover beaches and children in bathing suits, houses and fishermen at work. A slight melancholy assails us. A sign invites us to use sunglasses and sunscreen makes us smile, the last pub in the province. In the evening we are in Dublin, returned the Micra red now, the streets teeming.
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