The Wesht

As you may have noticed the gap between the previous post and the one before that was a full four months - the casual observer might believe that nothing has happened to me worth blogging in the time between, but the keen blogging expert will know that this is highly unlikely.


It’s Web 2.0! Everyone is a star, everyone produces content, and everybody is a publisher. By blogging standards I would have to be dead to not have events in my life exciting enough to blog (and that very death most certainly would have been blog-worthy).

So the cat is out of the bag – I’m lazy and just didn’t write anything. Neither about my visit to Ireland’s Wild West, nor about my nephew visiting from Germany (he brought along my sister and her husband) - and that so briefly after the grand post on resolutions. At least I kept these resolutions when it came to taking pictures – so I feel it my duty to you and the beauty of the Wesht to share a few of those images…

As previously indicated, my friend Ilana (for the whole international story check the last post) visited me in Ireland a second time over Easter. Both being the religious people that we are, we ventured on a pilgrimage to the far west of this island – the dry Connemara, the famous Aran Islands, and the Ring of Kerry.

I still don’t have a car – and as detailed in my last post, the public transport in Ireland is pretty much a non-option – so Ilana rented a car that would take us around for the long weekend. It turned out to be a brand-new (and I mean: BRAND new – only 50km on the clock) Open Corsa. Ferrari-red, zippy, pseudo-sporty – and ugly as sin. We aptly dubbed it the “RUB” – Red Ugly Bitch – on the spot before moving it a foot.

First stop of the trip was Galway, the capital of the west. Highlights here were the Kennedy park (one of the least attractive parks I’ve seen in a while) and the drinking water quality…. Or non-quality. It turns out that the surrounding cities had dumped their sewage for decades into the fresh water reservoir – and now after this continued abuse the water quality had degraded to a level that made it undrinkable. Public announcements even declared it illegal to serve ice cubes in drinks at local pubs. I’m sure the bottled water industry thrived. We left.

After a drive through the dry and desert-like Connemara, we arrived in Clifden, where we were to spend the first night in a small B&B. The Mallmore House turned out to be a beautiful B&B just outside the city, with small but beautifully equipped (Victorian?) rooms of which some also sported nice views on the Atlantic coast.

The next day took us to the Aran Islands – apparently world-renowned for the Aran Sweater (which is now produced somewhere else, but still delivered here to be sold to tourists). The Islands are also home to some old defense structures and churches – and by renting a bicycle (cars aren’t allowed on the island, save for a few for the inhabitants) you can quickly get to all those sights. If you aren’t used to riding a bicycle (as neither Ilana nor I were), you’ll know every muscle in your butt the next day.

After the Aran Islands we headed along the coastline to the Burren (of which we – truth be told – didn’t really see much of at all). En route we passed the “Cliffs of Insanity” featured in many famous movies, most notably “Princess Bride”. They had another name too, but I already forgot that. We spent the night in a small B&B in Corofin - that was most likely run by the chattiest woman ever - and that night once again enjoyed the menu and bar of a local pub (while I gave way to the cravings for a steak, Ilana had a salad or something equally unimpressive. Needless to say that she let me pick up the bill…).

From there we headed through Limerick (also known as “Stab city”) towards Kerry and the Ring of Kerry. Wikipedia says about it: “The Ring of Kerry is a tourist trail in County Kerry, south-western Ireland. The route covers the 170 km circular road (N70, N71 and R562), starting from Killarney, heading around the Iveragh peninsula and passing through Kenmare, Sneem (!), Waterville, Cahersiveen and Killorglin”. Before closing the ring we turned south and made our way to Cork, where we were to spend the last night of this trip.

Cork turned out to be a surprisingly nice city – we had a room reserved in a hostel on the north side, just minutes from downtown and the pub scene. Our quest for a restaurant to get some dinner was only moderately successful - our choices were 45 minute wait for a table or going to “Cpt. America”. The burgers were not bad though.

The last day took us back towards Dublin, only interrupted by a few stops at sights here and there. The highlight of those being the Rock Cashel – another quick except from Wikipedia: ”The Rock of Cashel, also known as Cashel of the Kings and St. Patrick's Rock , is a historic site in Ireland's province of Munster, located at Cashel, County Tipperary.The Rock of Cashel served as the traditional seat of the Kings of Munster for several hundred years prior to the Norman invasion, though few remnants if any of the early structures survive.”

After that is was pretty much all motorway all the time until we made it back to Dublin. I got a drop-off service at my door, and Ilana proceeded with the RUB – aided by her John-Cleese-voice-powered GPS – straight back to the airport.

This trip’s pictures as always on my smugmug site.