After our Cliffs of Moher excursion, we came home and got gussied up for a medieval dinner at Dunguaire Castle about an hour away in Kinvarra. You might be interested to know that we tried and heard several possible pronunciations of Dunguaire:
dun-gware? definitely not, silly Americans!
doon-garry? only the dinner reservations lady pronounced it this way
dun-gwarr or dun-gwarray? seemed to be the most popular

Anyway, Dunguaire Castle is actually another fortified tower house built in the 1500s, but it felt plenty castle-y to us.



We got there a bit early for our dinner and used that time to walk along a lovely little path around the castle. So many growing things!

I believe this was my single "portrait photography" opportunity of the entire trip. I had to act quickly even to get these!

Especially because Maggie was in full-blown photo bomber mode that day. It's her new favorite thing to do ...

... and she even taught Curtis how to do it.

Finally the time came for our royal entrance.

We were first welcomed into the castle foyer, where we were served a cup of mead for a toast. Our maidservant said that she had plenty more if we needed refills, so, being thirsty, I pretty well chugged mine immediately. It was really sweet and tasty.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm not much of a drinker? I was tipsy after that one little cup.

Soon our servants performed a song or two and invited us upstairs for dinner and entertainment. I wish I remembered our manservant's name because he has a terrific voice and is about to embark upon a career in the opera. You'll just have to believe me when he's famous someday and I insist "I knew him when!"

For some people, this was a romantic, candlelit evening. For the four of us, it was just another opportunity to cut up and annoy one another. See what an accomplished photo bomber Tyler is becoming?

A full crew came out to fill our dinner plates, which were then served by our three multi-talented musicians. We had been a little bit apprehensive about what our dinner might include. Boar's head? Huge turkey legs? Turns out we needn't have worried because it was good ol' boneless chicken, green beans, potatoes and carrots.

After dinner we were treated to a collection of Irish songs, folklore and poetry. Again, these three really did a terrific job together.

Doongarry, Dungware, Dungwarray, Dunguaire Castle, we thouroughly enjoyed ourselves, even though we may never know how to correctly say your name!

Praise to the King of Plenty.

Praise every time to God.

A hundred praises and thanks to Jesus Christ,

for what we have eaten and shall eat.
Irish grace after meals

We ventured into downtown Doolin on our second day there. It turned out to be even tinier than we'd imagined. Our first stop was the Traditional Music Shop, where I looked for tunebooks to share with my Celtic music buddy Margaret, and Tyler was hoping to find a top-notch bouzouki, sort of an overgrown mandolin. I hit the jackpot; Tyler did not. He and Maggie both found our shopping experience to be a bit disappointing.

Fortunately there was still much more to see in and around Doolin, such as this tower house keeping watch over the countryside, hay fields getting their summer haircuts, and cattle soaking up the intermittent sunlight.

Oh, and the Cliffs of Moher! This is just a small section of the five miles of sheer cliffs that rise as much as 650 feet above the Atlantic. Breathtaking, huh?

Like lots of other folks that day, we walked along the edge of the cliffs and climbed up to O'Brien's Tower at their highest point.

This was a great spot for admiring the cliffs ...

... hearing talented musicians ...

... admiring wildflowers ...

... and meeting new friends!

It was a really nice day indeed.

Greeting: God greet you. (in Gaelic: Dia duit.)

Reply: God and Mary greet you. (in Gaelic: Dia's Muire duit.)

During our 4-hour drive north from Dingle to Doolin, we passed through miles and miles (kilometers and kilometers) of idyllic green hills and valleys.

Here's a lucky auto-focus shot through my window:

After following less-than-clear directions and doing lots of guessing and praying, we finally reached the hilltop cottage where we would spend our next 6 nights. It was considerably larger than we needed -- 5 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, 2 bathrooms, large kitchen -- but really a nice house with incredible views in all directions. A good while after returning from a leisurely Italian dinner, Curtis noticed this view of the sunset from our front door:

The sun sets at about 9:30 at this time of year in Ireland, and the sky stays light until nearly midnight. We stepped outside to get a better look at the sunset. Our cottage was within 2 miles of the Atlantic Ocean.

Looking toward the left (south) we could see the edge of the Cliffs of Moher; to the right (north) was Galway Bay and "the wild western Irish fringe known as Connemara."

Right at our feet were typical flowers found in many gardens in this part of Ireland:

The front of our cottage, our trusty rental car, and one glad-to-be-off-the-road Curtis. Ahhhhhhhh, home!

O King of brightness and the sun who knows our worth,

be with us every day,

be with us every night,

be with us every night and day,

be with us every day and night.

Irish blessing

Have you been anxiously awaiting photos from the rest of our Dingle Loop trip? Were you having trouble sleeping at night? Repeatedly checking for blog updates? Oh. Sorry about that. I took a few days off to simply rest and enjoy my vacation. IN IRELAND! What a concept! We're home now and trying to hang onto the last wisps of fresh, cool air in our bones, which is hard to do when it's 189 degrees outside.

I'll pick up pretty well where you last found me -- surrounded by rocks. I love them. I've never before noticed that rocks can be beautiful. Unfortunately, while I attempted to shoot every single rock in Ireland, a couple of my traveling companions named Tyler and Maggie lost patience with my fascination and elected to sit out the next stop on our driving tour: a cluster of beehive huts or clochans, which are basically igloos built of stone. I had to sit down to rest once I got there because our buddy Rick Steves failed to mention that "a short walk uphill" actually meant "as close to a 90 degree climb as physics will allow."


My patient boyfriend elected to follow me uphill and serve as a reference point for the size of these structures. They're slightly bigger than they look from the outside because of their sunken floors. Still, I'm appreciating my full-sized house today!

A kiss to celebrate surviving the hill!

We hit the road again and I decided to try shooting from the backseat. This is pretty much why I hate shooting from the backseat.

Getting out and finding an interesting vantage point always makes me much happier. Finding a safe place to pull over on Irish roads, on the other hand, makes Curtis considerably less happy.

I don't know how those sheep manage to not roll down into the Atlantic everyday. I mean, they don't even have fingernails to hang on with or anything.

Here is an example of the kinds of roads that kept Curtis from getting much rest on our trip. It was bad enough to have to adjust to driving on the left side of the road, but sharp curves, roads not really wide enough for two cars, ever-present tour buses, and the danger of falling rocks caused him plenty of stress. Not me. I was just alternately sleepy and frustrated at not being able to see from the backseat -- and forever grateful that Tyler was willing to sit in the navigator's seat.

At one particularly lovely spot, we noticed a For Sale sign and decided we could live with this view.

Uh-huh. That's what I'm talkin bout.

Our last stop along the road back from Slea Head or Ceann Sleibhe (I love saying this one: k'yown SHLAY-veh) was the Gallarus Oratory.

Here's what Rick says about it:

"The Gallarus Oratory, built about 1300 years ago, is one of Ireland's best-preserved early-Christian churches. Shaped like an upturned boat, its finely fitted drystone walls are still waterproof. Notice how thick the walls are ... "

Notice also how small the doorway is, as demonstrated by the ever-helpful Tyler.

The doorway and a simple window on the opposite wall provide the only light in the building. I wonder what it felt like to worship in this church on a regular basis.

The walkway leading back to our car was lined with thick hedges of fuschia. This tropical plant was introduced on the Dingle Peninsula hundreds of years ago, and since the Gulf Stream helps the area maintain a mild climate, fuschia now covers the peninsula. And thus concludes today's botany (ecosystem?) lesson.

We made it back to Dingle Town in time for a concert at St. James' Church ...

... a fine old building with many charming details.

We were thrilled to see our pipes and whistles friend Eoin Duigan again, along with terrific accordionist Brendan Begley (Breanndan O'Beaglaoich) and three of his talented children. Another superb musical evening!

The next day it was time to leave Dingle. We all agree we wish we could have stayed longer, but I guess we'll just have to plan to return someday. After one last stroll through town ...

... and a visit to the harbor ...

... we piled into the car and headed north toward County Clare. But first, here are two final educational tidbits. A few more Irish words for those of you interested in learning this intriguing and still thriving language:

And an answer to one reader's question posted on my Facebook page:

"When you are in Ireland, are Irish potatoes just called potatoes? So if you ordered potatoes with your meal, will it be a REGULAR potato, or an Irish one? These are the things I need to know."

Now you know, Gina. No need to thank me.

Really, we never heard them called Irish potatoes, just potehhhhhtoes. I tried to order mashers once and my family will never let me live it down. What? I'd heard them say bangers and rashers (sausage and bacon) and simply got a tiny bit mixed up. Mashers for potatoes makes at least as much sense, don't you think?

In honor of Father's Day a day late and Mother's Day a month ago, I'll sign off with an excerpt from Irish Prayers and Blessings for All Occasions:

For my mother who raised me at her breast

and for my father who raised me by the work of his bones;

I trust in the Son of God when they enter His presence

that there will be a hundred thousand welcomes for them

in the heavens of peace.