Hidden Gems on the Emerald Isle

Hidden Gems

Mr. Magoo

Let's start on the overseas flight. I was happy to find a non-stop Portland to Amsterdam flight on KLM. Yea, it's a long 10 hour flight but at least we're over "the pond"( I don't like that cliche, but there was no way around it). Much rather spend a little time in Holland than New Jersey. Sorry, Governor Christie. From Amsterdam it's just a little more than an hour up to Dublin on an airplane with a lucky shamrock on it's tail, Aer Lingus.

Soon after the safety demo, the menu was announced. They were going to feed us every couple hours and if we behaved ourselves offer complimentary beer and wine. We behaved ourselves the entire flight. In addition, we were entertained with a huge selection of in-flight movies. Forget the neck pillow, eye shades, and ear plugs, I'm watching movies and drinking beer. I forgot how good Heineken is on a Dutch airline. Two films, two thumbs 35,000 feet up, "Perks of Being a Wallflower" and a documentary, "Sound City".

Dingle Brewing

After a week of settling with pints of Guinness or Smithwick's, Tom Crean's lager from Dingle Brewing was a nice break from the norm. An easy walk just up the Connor Pass road is Dingle Brewing. A little stream runs through this former dairy with water filtered by the abundant limestone. Go in, talk to Steven. Pay the 7 Euro to walk through the self-guided tour. You'll learn a little bit about their flagship lager, Tom Crean's. Tom Crean was a local hero noted for his South Pole exploration, including the one aboard the sinking Shakelton ship. At the end, grab a tractor seat at the bar and Steven will pour you a pint. Here's to you, Tom Crean!

Driving around Ireland you'll see Celtic high crosses scattering the landscape. These are cemeteries and should be visited. If there could be a favorite cemetery, it would be the little one on the rocky ground of Inisheer. Generations of O'Flannery's, Joyce's, and O'Brien's spent their entire lives making dirt from seaweed and sand to grow grass and eventually graze their sheep. They're all buried here, in that dirt.

Up in Northern Ireland is the Giants Causeway. So named for the folklore of two Giants. One in Scotland across the water, and one, Finn McCool, on the Irish side. After taking the guided tour and walking amid the cool shaped stones, visit the brand new Visitor's Center. The Disney-like video will captivate as you are told the story of the two Giants who used to live here. The other interactive hexagonal kiosks are worth checking out. It's not just intended for little people, but grown-ups too.

Finn McCool's Boot

We passed by Dunluce Castle twice on the way out to the Giants Causeway. From the road it looked like another ruined castle washing into the sea. Pull over and get a closer look. For a few Euro you can take a self-guided audio tour or have a real live person show you around the castle. Anthony took us around. The falling down castle was once a working village and has a fascinating history behind it. Have Anthony point out the ancient stone carvings. We tried to decode the stone etched will a bell, a ladder, 2,2, and a coffin. What do you think?

 Ancient Graffiti

Back in Dublin we wanted to find the smallest pub. We found it! On Dawson Street. Almost walked past it, the Dawson Lounge. Sure enough, it's small, but we were the only ones in there so it seemed cavernous. Otherwise, come later at night. You're shoulder to shoulder with 16 other people, mostly drunk. Instead, go at Happy Hour, they'll be plenty of room to hang your hat.

Real gems, FOUND!

Herman and Otik

These guys were our Christmas present a few years ago. Aquatic frogs. Herman and Otik. 

We first put up their home. A small plastic polygon. I like that word, sounds like polliwog. They arrived a week later via FedEx in a plastic bag with enough water to keep them alive overnight. Instructions called for spring water. That was about it. Oh yea, something else about not consuming the water they live in.

Included in their fancy abode was some sand, a couple frog sized stones, and a live palm tree. All I could picture is Herman and Otik lounging on those rocks, sunglasses on, sipping umbrella garnished piña coladas under the shade of the palm.

Only difference is that when we travel, they are sent to Hali's desk at work. The only instructions for the assistant, "Throw in four of the tiny frog food nuggets twice a week." Seems like when we get them back, they've gotten fat, especially Herman. Those four little nuggets probably don't seem like enough and they get over fed. So for the next month, they go on a strict diet. A morsel each, every other day.

Supposedly the life span of this type of frog is three years. Well, they're going on five. They certainly must enjoy each others company. I always see them hanging out under that miniature palm tree. Sometimes rubbing lotion on each others peeling backs.

As far as pets go, Herman and Otik are pretty cool. Feed twice a week. Clean their house once a year. No trips to the vet...yet. No leashes, collars, or silly raincoats. Just kick back and watch them kicking back.

Herman and Otik. BFFF- Best Frog Friends Forever.

                                         

Dingle Penninsula

YDingle

Dingle was the perfect town to take a 3 day "vacation" in the middle of our travel around Ireland. It's coastal, so fresh fish abounds, try the seafood chowder. With it's fifty or so pubs, there's plenty of craic. Take in the farmers market, get a hair cut, or just take a great big breath of that fresh Gaelic air.

If you are so lucky to come to Dingle for a few days, save a day to drive the coast- the Dingle Peninsula. You've got all day, it's only 30 miles, let's have lunch on the fly.

Just out of town is a schoolhouse. Peek your head inside and listen to the children speaking Gaelic, still mandatory curriculum in school. Apparently they love the tourist recess of show-and-tell, should you get called on by the teacher.

A few miles up is the Dunbeg Fort. STOP! Walk down to the fort overlooking the shear coastline and imagine how the settlers here lived. No power, no indoor plumbing, no Subway, no WiFi. Only periodic raids by the Vikings and English. Now only tourists armed with cameras.

The beehive huts. You can see them from the road. They're cool looking. You can drive on but you might miss out on the interesting CRAIC from the pot-bellied man with the blue thumb. Plus, us tourists need to support the local people. After all, what's a couple Euro?

Rounding the bend, the most western part of Ireland, are the incredible landscapes with the vast Atlantic in the background. Stop here, take a picture. This is the first land Charles Lindburg flew over on his solo Atlantic crossing. Better be a rest room.

Continue up the road where you'll come to a fork. Hungry? Thirsty? There was an upstart microbrewery around here somewhere. There it is. CLOSED. Thank you Sir Guinness.

Not to worry, one more stop and a cemetery. We've got to build up that appetite. Thank goodness for the full Irish breakfast.

The Gallarus oratory is worth the stop. This 1300 year old building is still dry inside. We found out. It was just us and the groundskeeper, his lawn mower was bogged down with the wet bog. He was raking the gravel inside the stone structure.

Less than a mile away is an ancient monastery. Go there. You can put your thumbs through a rock and "swear to God.", renew vows, or just pretend you're burying Grandpa O' Simpson.

Get back on the road, go over the pass, and you're back in Dingle. Pub Grub time. Head to the nearest pub and grub out.

Www.passportsandpostcards.com

Artifact

If you're a student of archeology, Ireland is a great laboratory. Structures like those at Newgrange and Howth from the stone-age are incredibly well preserved. Beehive huts, stone circles, and ancient churches still stand the test of time without mortar holding them together. Johnny, a kid from Memphis we met on Inisheer, was lucky enough to travel as an archeologist and study the amazing past of Ireland.

If you find interest in the science of archeology like Johnny, the National Museum of Archeology in Dublin gives a great overview of early Ireland, it's people, and it's evolving culture. The best part about this museum- it's FREE! Save your few coins for an ice cream afterward people watching on Grafton Street.

A week after we got back to Portland, there happened to be an archeological roadshow at OMSI (our science museum.) We were encouraged to dig up any native American relic, artifact, or fossil that may be laying around and get a professional appraisal on your piece. The best part- it's FREE!

We went down in the basement and uncovered an artifact we've had since the West Linn age (our old house). There it was, amongst our lodge room relics, a stone carved into some sort of axe head. Dan, a professional at this museum event gave us the following appraisal, "This stone was most likely carved by the mid-western mound builders, used to fell trees." That very stone I was holding in my hands was a prehistoric chainsaw. Awesome!

So naturally, we sold it, my pet rock, on EBay. Rock on, Barney Rubble!

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Rocket Man

It's launch, I mean lunch time in Portrush. I didn't know this but Ireland has rocket. Just ask our server, Matt, from the Coast cafe. Here the menu offers something for everyone: sandwiches, burgers, pizza, soups, salads. I felt like a salad. Here's one, "spicy rocket salad" pointing to the menu. "I wonder what rocket is?" So we asked Matt what rocket is. "It's arugula." he said, with a shrug, as if we were spaced out or something. "Oh rocket, I get it!" The tender little leaves of arugula are shaped like a rocket. Spicy? Bite down on the rocket and it's got this peppery flavor.

Thanks Matt. You da "rocket" man.

Climb the Reek

St. Patrick's Bed, Craogh Patrick, County Mayo

Westport is a perfect base camp for a Craogh Patrick ascent. This 2500 foot treeless hike on heaps of stones, ranks up there with Half Dome and St. Helen's. Strap on your boots, let's take a hike.

Start with the full Irish breakfast, that prolific pile of protein will propel you up the peak of Craogh Patrick. You'll also need a well worn pair of boots. Pack a powerbar, potassium laced banana, and a bottle of water. Save these for the top, 2 hours away, uphill.

PROTEIN~!

We did this hike on a cool breezy morning in May. I can't imagine 30,000 pilgrims in a two week span mid- July. Many of them barefoot. Be sure to use the WC down below. "Reek" means rock, not pee on rocks. Like I said, treeless. Next toilet, down below, in four hours. Watch your water rations.

Take it slow. You'll make it to the"shoulder". It flattens out here for a bit. Imagine a yellow light, the point of no return, a good spot to turn around, get a picture of St. Patrick back near the bus circle, or press on your pilgrimage. From here it's a rocky, snaking, and steep trail, but within range. Every foot forward is a foot up. Hali had collected a small stone for every hundred steps. On the top, 12 pebbles in her sweaty palm.

You've made it! Take a look at the view. Hurry, a cloud is on it's way. Get some water and a snack. St. Patrick was here, you can see "his bed", talk about "hard as a rock". I didn't see any snakes under all the rocks I climbed so he did a great job exterminating them.

Now you can head on down. For me, this was the hardest part. The steep slope strains on the knees like worn shock absorbers. Could of used a walking stick. No, I'd probably trip over it and fall onto St. Patrick's bed. Rock and Roll.

The parking lot is coming into view. Hali is skipping down and all I can think of is a beer at the bottom. That pint was waiting there for us at Campbell's Pub, of "Climb the Reek" postcard fame. At Campbell's we had the soup of the day, potato and leek. That reminds me, where's the toilet?

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Ring of Kerry vs Ring of Dingle

Kerry vs Dingle

On my 40th Birthday, we took a family camping trip along the Columbia River, on the Washington side. Same camp Lewis and Clark took up and named, Beacon Rock, 200 years earlier. It was here that the Corps of Discovery first documented tidal changes in the river. The Pacific was near!!

It was also here, at Beacon Rock, that I told Hali I want to visit Ireland when I'm fifty. For ten years the beacon of Ireland beckoned. But unlike Lewis and Clark, who spent years planning their expedition, my preparation began the moment I purchased plane tickets. The Ring of Kerry was near!

Like most of our trips to Europe, I start with Rick Steve's. Why not? He's been at it for nearly forty years, we follow his travel philosophy, and he's a local boy. Well, he's from the Northwest anyway. Plus he's got an easy to navigate web sight complete with a travelers helpline. Believe me, when investing in travel(just like we would in real estate or stocks and bonds) we need all the help we could get.

In addition to Rick's Ireland 2012 book, I also used Lonely Planets current issue of Ireland. Both are excellent resources, and offer different travel perspectives. I would often cross reference recommendations to get a more complete review without being overwhelmed by the hundreds of Ireland guidebooks at the bookstore. And by recommendations, I'm not just referring to sleeping arrangements, but all the other components involved in planning a 3 week trip overseas: itinerary, transportation, packing, meals, pubs, tours, sights.

With that in mind, we figured that we could knock out both the Ring of Kerry and the Ring of Dingle on this trip. What the heck? We're traveling during the shoulder season and time is on our side. Okay, you get the picture. So grab your camera and follow us.

First stop, The Ring of Kerry. Unlike the jammed up narrow roads we were warned of, in mid-May we found it pleasantly uncrowded. A few tour busses here and there, but nothing like a snaking caravan that Rick Steve's describes. We did stop overnight at St. Finian's Bay so our drive around the Ring moved at slower pace. We had nowhere to be that particular night.

In Sneem we stopped at the farmers market. A "sister of charity" was selling knitted items, mostly for toddlers, and egg "cozies". Much like the coolers that keep a can of beer cold only these were for eggs. We handed her a couple Euro, passing up on the "cozies".

The highlight of this stop was a statue. Many tourists can't pass a statue without a taking a picture of them standing next to it, we can. Not this time. The statue of Steve "The Crusher" Casey dared me to take him down. Apparently, Steve "The Crusher" was a local wrestler who deserved a bronze likeness of himself in the town square. Across the street, a pub-Wrestler's Tavern.


If you must see a ring fort, Staigue Fort is a good one, just up the road. Well, up the road and onto a narrower road lined with sheep. No room for tour busses here. This stone fort was built without mortar a long time ago. You can tell, there's no one there, "holding down the fort". The views the tribes and chieftains had here are spectacular. Probably a good venue for a Trad concert.

We stopped briefly at Carroll's Cove just to feel the sand between our fingers, not our toes. A wee bit windy and cold that day. Plus Ireland's only beach bar was closed.

Took the Skellig Ring turn-off. Here we were turned on to the views of Skellig Michael. This remote monastic settlement would be an amazing detour on a calm day; the boats hadn't been running for weeks. Instead, check out the Skellig Experience Center in Portmagee after some traditional pub grub.

Hold on! Before you drive on to have lunch, take a quick peek in the Skelligs Chocolate Factory. Fountains of flowing chocolate, caramel, nuts and chews will behold you. Take advantage of the generous samples and don't forget to buy something for later. You won't regret it.

Now we're off to Dingle town and it's wonderfully Gaelic peninsula.

Three Memorable Meals

It's about the food...

a spot of tea at Queen of Tarts, Dublin
"Pinky's up!"

Yes, the full Irish breakfast is just what it advertises. Eat it and you're full. You're now good until about three o'clock. Before dinner, but save some change and order from the lunch menu. You've seen the sights, walked the walked, it's time for linner. Or is it dunch? No matter, I'm hungry.

Here is a sampling of my 3 memorable, month of May, meals.

Queen of Tarts across from the Dublin Castle. This tiny bistro has about eight two-seat tables and when the rain comes, a good place to tuck into. The chalkboard menu will have, tart of the day, soup of the day, and tea of the day. Yes, three o'clock, tea time. Hali had her heart set on the tart, I ordered the pannini and tea of the day. We both passed on the soup of the day, potato and leek. The tart was excellent, the cheesy pannini forgettable, but the tea made this meal memorable. Picture this, Woody having 2 cups of tea and a sandwich, pinky raised.

Goat Street Cafe in Dingle. Right up there on, you guessed it, Goat Street. I like daily specials and I didn't pass this one up. Smoked white fish and mackerel, savory boiled potatoes, and a snappy veggie medley. Forget the standard fried fish and chips, this plate of fish was quite memorable.

J.J. O'Malleys in Westport. The dining room was opening in about 15 minutes so we stopped at the bar for a pint. We asked the bartender if he'd ever "Climbed the Reek" and what his favorite dish on the menu was. He had hiked Croagh Patrick, took him three hours both ways, and liked the ribs. Mmm... Ribs, more protein. Sounds grand. And they were. A half rack of meaty, fall-off-the-bone pork ribs, slathered in house-made sauce, piled high on mash. These ribs were good and gooey. No worries, I've got a warm finger wash and a stack of napkins. Another side of roasted potatoes, and finger lickin' good asparagus. I finished and was full again.

I rarely take a photo of my food. I confess, I'm not a foodie. Face it, I eat with my mouth not my eyes. When traveling, I like a plate of food, it doesn't need to be pretty. Fresh, local, and hearty will do. I've got to get up in the morning, strap on a pack and walk. My next meal might be an orange a a handful of pumpkin seeds. I can skip the fancy frilled pretty plate. I'm not taking a picture. I'm hungry. Besides, most likely, what I like, you won't: smoked fish, braised pork, seafood chowder, calamari(otherwise known as pork bung-I heard this on This American Life, podcast it, very enlightening). Bon Appitite!

Okay, you insisted. I've washed my face, brushed and flossed. "Say cheese, Woody."

FREE BEER!

Okay, grand, I've got your attention. Works every time. That's good because this is important. Pop quiz time.

What's better than FREE BEER when traveling?
A. TRAD
B. CRAIC
C. A bap
D. All of the above.
E. None of the above

If you guessed, A. You're wrong. Musicians need to get paid, that's right, they don't play free music for tourists-seven nights a week, for nothing. At best you buy them a pint.

B. CRAIC, that's always free. Ask Ned.

C. A bap. C'mon man, does Subway hand out free sandwiches? I don't think so.

If you guessed E. None of the above, you're right. Well done!

What's better than FREE BEER? Gracious guests, of course. Remember when you're traveling, you're not at home. Get it? You're somewhere else: visiting, touring, or just passing through. It's important to leave a good lasting impression. You want to come back, right?

In my pack, I've got a secret zipper bag, with a stash. A stash of beer coasters, seeds, and postcards from home. I give these as token gifts to people I meet along the way, mainly the people we stay with. This stash of gifts are inexpensive, lightweight, and easy to pack.

I like to share my hometown, Portland, with a postcard. I'll write a little Thank You note on the back and leave it on the nightstand when we leave. People you meet like to see the town you are from, besides Portland is so photogenic.

Beer coasters from your local pubs make great gifts. Steven, from Dingle Brewing, asked if we used them as trading cards. I chuckled, "You mean like baseball cards? No, just a gift for you. Maybe you can pin them up like a postcard." I handed him a handful of Northwest beer coasters, he traded me a pint- there you have it, FREE BEER!

On our backpacking trip through Europe we brought flower seeds- California poppies. Probably couldn't get away with that today. Along with a Thank You postcard, we would set on top a package of these seeds. I remember the guest house in Austria, her garden beds, her flowers. She's probably has borders of poppies now, from California. What a wonderful souvenir. As a matter of fact, our Dutch friend, Arnout, recently said that his Dad looks forward to the bloomin' poppies every spring, aboard his houseboat on the canal.

Now we travel with the little cardboard seed arrangements that are put in a pot, watered, and before you know it, an instant bouquet.

Sowing the seeds of love with our gracious hosts.

Two Beers and a Bap

In Kilkenny we asked Liam, our B&B host, for a good place for lunch. He liked a pub in town called the Hole in the Wall. Nice, sounds like our kind of place.

After touring the Kilkenny Castle, we were ready for some grub. I remember Liam telling us that the guy who runs the Hole in the Wall is a bit off-the-wall, is full of CRAIC, and opens at odd hours. It's a short block from the tourist information center.

We wandered around the few blocks near the TI looking for A Hole in the Wall. Nope, couldn't find it. We saw plenty of holes in walls but not this joint. Went to the TI to ask. Tourist Information, CLOSED. What, closed mid-day on a Sunday when the town is full of tourist? Oh well, I'll ask next door at the Celtic shop. The lady in there reaffirmed that The Hole in the Wall is just down the street and the proprietor runs odd hours. She actually pointed to the alleyway we should turn into. So we followed her finger. No  Hole in the Wall down there, must be an odd hour, lunchtime?

A sign in the window of a nearby pub said, a pint and a bap-6 Euro. Wow, sounds like a grand deal! A pint alone is nearly 6 Euro. I look at Hali and ask, "what's a bap?" Impatiently she replied, "I don't know, I'm hungry, let's find out." Inside was an old guy at the end of the bar and an older guy behind the bar. I said to the guy behind the bar, "You've got the best deal in town. A beer and a bap for only 6 Euro. We'll take two".

He poured us each a pint of Smithwick's and laid it on the bar. Then he grabbed a loaf of white bread, some ham, cheese, slices of tomato and sandwiched them all together. He put them in a little toaster and said, "It'll be a minute." From the fridge he pulled out a small bottle of mustard and a small bottle of mayo and neatly laid a knife on each bottle next to our pints.

A minute later, he took them off the toaster, put them between us and said, "There ye' go, the best deal in town." We ate them up and agreed that was the best bap we've ever had.

Out the door we went, satisfied. Tucked into the doorway a few doors down was a sandwich board and written in chalk, The Hole in the Wall.

Maybe it should have read, The CRAIC in the Wall.

Dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee...

YOU HAVE ENTERED THE PASSPORT ZONE

Our passports expire today, June 3, 2013. How do I know this? I marked it on our 2013 "cabin in the woods" calendar in big red letters back in January. Then thought, maybe we can squeeze in one more trip before they expire. Another stamp in our passports. The wheels were in motion- we were going to Ireland.

I bought airline tickets St. Valentines Day for travel in May. The countdown was on: 81 days. The next week I bought a couple guidebooks, a map, and some well worn boots. I actually found the boots on the street corner, they fit, so I was set. Well, I had to buy laces. Croagh Patrick here we climb!

April Fools Day I posted my first blog, reserved a car, and booked our first 3 nights in Dublin. 36 days and counting.

On April 14th, I came across an article in the Oregonian's travel section about an expired passport. Someone had written in that they were to travel in April, her passport would expire in October, but was held up in a dimension known as The Passport Zone. A random gap between your date of travel and the expiration date of your passport.

I didn't panic, but the clock was ticking-22 days. I checked websites: The State Department, KLM, Aer Lingus, Dublin pubs. All of them seemed to use words like recommend, endorse, advise but not "require". I checked the expiration date again on our passport, sure enough, June 3, 2013.

What to do? We could go on our merry way and hope no one notices. We could cancel the trip. Or we could start panicking.

I liked option one, just play dumb. Option two was definitely out. The third option seemed the most reasonable. Hali went with option three. We drove downtown to get our pictures taken. That Monday we FedEx our "almost expired" passports, paperwork, and a check to Philadelphia to get new passports expedited. We should have our new passports within 14 days.

In the mean time, planning continued. We'll have our new documents any day now. April 30th came and went. No passports. 7 days.

May first, Mayday, arrived and with it, a clump of flowers from my neighbor holding down a thin FedEx envelope. They're here! We're going to Ireland! With just about a week to spare, we now have 10 more years of travel.

So, unofficially, I recommend, endorse, advise renewing your passports within 6 months of the expiration date. Otherwise, you might find yourself stuck in, The Passport Zone...

Take a walk on the Wilde side

If you didn't know he was there, you'd walk right past him. Right there behind a wrought iron fence on the corner of Merrion Square, Oscar Wilde. Sit down and relax with Oscar. You might even sit up on the large stone with Oscar. Let him amuse you.

"I can resist everything but temptation."

"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes."

"True friends stab you in the front."

You just may hear his witty wisdom whisper in the cool breeze of the Irish Spring.

Oscar was a scholar at Trinity College, just up the street. And although women were not admitted to the college until 1903, Oscar Wilde often wrote about them. "Every woman is a rebel." He would publicized from many of his favorite public houses. Perhaps Oscar noticed the winds of change were blowing for women at the time.

Near the end of his life, a suffrage movement was rising and Trinity College was ripe for rebellion. The provost of Trinity at the time was a fellow named George Salmon. Clearly he did not support the thought of women being admitted, and once said, "Women will enter this college over my dead body." Ironically, George died a month after women were allowed in Trinity and today the majority of school student population is women.

Notice that the granite statue is painted, a wry smile looking across the street at his home in Dublin. I'm guessing that the artist was portraying the colorful yet tragic life of the young Oscar Wilde.

If Grafton Street is a bustling mess, wander over and get a breath of fresh air with Oscar. You'll see, It's not so wild on the Wilde side.

Seven Nights a Week

Seven Nights a Week

The two words I took away from Ireland were CRAIC and TRAD. Oh yea, and bap. Craic, of course, is informal chat, stories, lies, gossip that you might hear at a local Irish pub. "Dude, you Craic me up." A bap is a sandwich. Trad, is simply short for traditional Irish music.

What's nice about this trio of words is that you can get them all at once in most Irish pubs. Tonight, though we'll talk about Trad.

Our intro to Trad was in Dublin, the Celt, North of the Liffey. We were in this pub within an hour after checking into our room, 3pm. Jet lag? No way, it's happy hour in Dublin! We toasted our safe arrival and asked about the music later on. "Starts at 9:30 tonight, in fact it starts at 9:30 every night." the guy behind the bar said, as if that was the standard response to every tourist who walks through his doors. "We'll be back." we said, finished our pint, and walked through the doors.

Across the Ha' Penny Bridge, through Temple Bar, and into the classic Victorian era Long Hall pub. Walking the streets is our way of getting acquainted with a new city. Or maybe we were just trying to solve James Joyces' puzzle, How to cross Dublin without passing a pub? Impossible! Walked back into The Celt about 10:30 and the place was packed. One look and we decided we'll be back...tomorrow. Jet lag had set in.

Kilkenny offered something a bit different, at a decent hour. Happy hour at Kytler's Inn. A sign posted in the window of this haunted medieval tavern read, Claire Nolan, author of the biography of Alice Kytler, reads from her book The Stone, Sunday 4:30. Cool, I like scary stories. Took our pints over to a table and listened to Claire read from her book. She told tales of witchcraft, black cats, and burning at the stake. A perfect setting for spooks.

The heartbeat of Trad in Ireland is in Dingle. Whether you like the lamenting ballads or flutes and fiddles, there is always something for everyone in Dingle town. Seven nights a week. If you can stay up until about 10pm, An Droichead Beag( The Little Bridge)is a good place to start. The brightly painted yellow exterior welcomes you in. If you're lucky you can get a table up front, otherwise wander to the warm peat fire in back. A group of girls came through the back bar and one of them said, " I can't see the music." I thought to myself, wait a minute, I can't see the music either but I can hear it perfectly well.

In the"tidy town"of Westport, Matt Malloy's is the place to be. Matt Malloy is the owner of this pub and has been playing traditional Irish music for decades with The Chieftans. Matt and his flute weren't there that night, neither were we. Croagh Patrick wore us out.

Probably the most entertaining pub we stumbled upon was Peadar O'Donnel's, just outside the wall in Derry, Northern Ireland. After a long day of sightseeing the murals and Bloody Sunday Memorials, we were ready for some friendly banter among the locals. Ed, an ex-Pat, chatted with us as if he hadn't talked to an American in years. Couldn't tell if he was full of CRAIC or full of crap. Then there was the hugging Irishman, the Shrek lookin' guy who piled the chips(fries) on the bar, and Paul,the bartender, who kept the house in order.

The Trad started shortly after 11. There was a pipe, a fiddle, a squeezebox, and guitar. With pints on the table behind, the musicians who played them. The songs were lively, yet I'm pretty sure the lass playing the fiddle was asleep. She can probably play those songs in her sleep- seven nights a week. Just as we were ready to ramble, the jigs began. Dozens of pub patrons got up and danced the familiar Irish version of the Chicken Polka. We found our way back to bunks at Paddy's Palace(hostel) before curfew, 3am.

In Portrush we stayed up late for the music. Not quite Trad, but music nonetheless. A gal playing an acoustic guitar another singing Fleetwood Mac tunes. We were in bed early that night.

So if you're up for the nightlife in Ireland and tired of the same ol' CRAIC, have a bap and a nap, and head out later for some Trad. You can see it, seven nights a week.

My Travel Gadgets

Irish writer, Oscar Wilde, once wrote, " I never travel without my diary. One needs to read something sensational in the train." Although my writing may not be as sensational as Mr. Wilde's, I embrace this notion. Without a diary or journal, I feel lost.

On my first trip to Europe, I wrote nearly everyday. Train travel allows for this: a wait in a station, the bumpy ride, the distances. I would write about the places we visited, people we met, prices we paid so that one day I would look back at my journal not only for reference but knowing that one day I'd go back. For instance, the summer of 1985 we found a room in Sienna for 30,000 lira($15). Returned the summer of 2011, three of us stayed in a convent for 60 Euro($80)including the Italian version of a full Irish breakfast. Currency changed, but Sienna hadn't- I love Sienna.

I know, it's a bit dorky with my breast pocket stuffed with a tiny notebook and pen, but I find it comforting. I'll jot down, train schedules, sightseeing tips, peoples names, amusing quips and later include them in my actual moleskin day-to-day journal. By doing this, I have a ready made blog. Toss in a few of Hali's photos and, presto, a sensational travel website.

Maybe it's "old school", but these are my travel gadgets. I don't leave home without them.

The best thing about my travel gadgets, they never need recharging.