Ireland - day 8 - rocks

Travelled through the Burren to see some of the nicest rocks you will ever see in the world. There were rocks in walls, rocks on hills, rocks on cliffs, some stacked rocks that ancient Irish people stacked for no reason. But these Irish were weak because the rocks were very small indeed. Yet they still stand today as a strange sort of monument to the meager accomplishments of this island and its people.

On we went, snapping pictures of the rocks and hedges, stopping at the world renowned tea room and kitsch store that is the Burren visitor's center. Their lemon merengue pie giggled like my ass after a week's worth of Irish food, the only thing I can think of that is more dense than the Irish themselves.

After viewing all of the rocks we could stand to see, we headed on towards Gallway. This was to be one of the longest drives of the trip. Katy had graciously planned to turn full West after reaching Galway, lest we have a trip of less than 200km to Dublin the following day. As it happened, we were destined for more.

The great bourbon excursion began before we reached the Burren. We received a request to stop and obtain some American spirits on the drive, having exhausted our imported supply. Of course, as soon as we run low on stores of the famed whiskey, we travel into the only county in Ireland that is whiskey-free. Much searching and near death causing turns were ventured in a futile attempt to find the elusive spirit. Then, in Galway, a shining beacon of commercialism appeared: the great Dunnes Stores shopping complex.

In this wondrous shoptropolis we found toilets on the second floor, but only after a forced walk through the entire complex, so that you see everything they have to offer before you pee.

In the grocery section the elusive bourbon was found. Also found were humorous shirts, which were not purchased but enjoyed heartily before returning to the car.

We soldiered on West. Westward we roamed. Pushing further and further into the hinterlands. We had nearly reached our destination when the goats, who had temporarily retreated from the Burren to push their advantage in more familiar lands, made a concerted effort to stop the white beast from entering the fabled castlelands of Ballahainich.

They trotted amongst the pavement mercilessly. Calling out their hideous battle screams, daring us to push them aside. The white beast would not be denied, and even the most staunch sheep were eventually vanquished, their efforts left in shatters along the rocky wayside.

The grounds of the castle were beautify, and pleasing wood fires were kept in the bar and lounge. Not kept well enough to prevent fire alarms, but perfection is the enemy of good enough.

Took a lovely hike around the lake and river, which are well stocked with salmon and the local downtrodden.

Grabbed a couple of pints before sitting down to what was to be the nicest measl of the trip, if cost was any indicator. For 60 euro a piece, we were looking forward to a four course meal. The food was actually quite good. The service, on the other hand, was horrific. I left with the feeling that the castle must have lost some of its luster through the years, not the least of which being the importation of pporly trained waitstaff to man the restaurant. I guess it helps their profits, though.

Of to bed for a nice shower and shave before sleeping in the hunting palace of those ancient, dead people. It made me want to pee on the carpet.