On our way back from the Cliffs of Moher, we stopped in the town on Doolin for lunch. Most people got their taste of an authentic Irish bar:
But not me. I got a taste of an authentic Irish....pizzeria.
After lunch I looked around for a restroom. All of the buildings on this block were connected by a back hallway kind of like a mini strip mall; I figured that there must be a public restroom which served them all. I ended up at the end of the building, and (finally!) found a restroom, only to discover very prominently-lettered above it: Restrooms are for hotel guests only. Apparently the last building on the block was an inn, and I had just wandered into the lobby. Man, I really had to go, so I non chalantly turned around to see if anyone from the hotel desk was watching. The guy there was watching alright. He kind of squinted his eyes a little, to let me know that he was on to me -- almost daring me to pay no heed to the sign and take my chances at using the restroom. But I just couldn't do it. I casually walked away and looked for another restroom. For the sake of my own dignity, I will not publish the rest of my bathroom exploits during lunch, but feel free to ask me the next time we talk. No recording devices of any kind will be allowed.
After lunch I looked around for a restroom. All of the buildings on this block were connected by a back hallway kind of like a mini strip mall; I figured that there must be a public restroom which served them all. I ended up at the end of the building, and (finally!) found a restroom, only to discover very prominently-lettered above it: Restrooms are for hotel guests only. Apparently the last building on the block was an inn, and I had just wandered into the lobby. Man, I really had to go, so I non chalantly turned around to see if anyone from the hotel desk was watching. The guy there was watching alright. He kind of squinted his eyes a little, to let me know that he was on to me -- almost daring me to pay no heed to the sign and take my chances at using the restroom. But I just couldn't do it. I casually walked away and looked for another restroom. For the sake of my own dignity, I will not publish the rest of my bathroom exploits during lunch, but feel free to ask me the next time we talk. No recording devices of any kind will be allowed.
We made another stop at the ocean before departing. This picture best potrays The Burren. It's just so rocky, but what soil there is, combined with nice temperatures, high humidity, and regular rainfall, is amazingly adept at growing vegetation. Anywhere a half an inch of dirt sat, there was something growing, despite the rocky terrain.
On the way back, we stopped at a fully-restored castle, Dunguaire Castle. Here's what the sign said:
But here's what it should have said:
It was open all day, but closed at 5 PM for a private medieval dinner. What time did we arrive? 5:05 PM. So if we'd stopped on the way past in the morning, we could have gone inside, but since we stopped on the way back, it was closed. Hrumph.
Just after we arrived, two of the cooks came out for a break, complete with lunch lady hairnets on. They fed some bread crumbs to the swans. Which reminded me that I had some cookies in my backpack.
One thing you need to know about the Irish is that they take their workbreaks seriously. They faithfully have "morning tea" and "afternoon tea," even if there is no tea involved. I appreciated this during my audits because they always brought tasty little treats and something to drink. But one set of cookies I threw in my backpack rather than eating:
Yeah, these are "Digestive" cookies. I thought it was a funny descriptor for a cookie package to have.Marketing: "The name of the cookie should be descriptive." How about "Yummy?"
Boss: "No."
Marketing: "Okay, then, something a little more concrete....how about "Sweet?"
Boss: "No. I want it to be something more factual."
Marketing: "Sugary?"
Boss: "No. Tell me, when you eat these cookies, do they go through your digestive tract?"
Marketing: "Well, sure...but..."
Boss: "Then that's it! Digestive! What a brilliant name! And you're fired."
Boss: "Then that's it! Digestive! What a brilliant name! And you're fired."
I didn't dare eat these things, because how bad does a cookie have to taste when the biggest thing going for it is its digestability? Still, I was sure the swans would love it, so I fed it to them. They seemed to enjoy it, and the cooks on break seemed to enjoy watching me nearly fall in the pond as I was taking video with my camera.
In the end, I did take a taste of those cookies. And you know what? They were quite good. For both my mouth AND my small intestine.
One last thing about Ireland is the road signs. When the owner of a business sees an Irish street sign on the road, he takes it as an open invitiation to post his business' sign nearby. It can get out of hand and make things difficult for people who aren't familiar with the road.
I was sad to leave Ireland. Everyone I met was great. The country was beautiful. I would kill a leprachaun to go back there.
Quinn
3 comments:
It looked like a stupid castle anyway. And apparently you can get the same thing at Medieval Times (plus jousting!).
Loved reading about your trip -- but can't seem to find an explanation about what took you to Ireland in the first place. Do tell.
Jill, you're right -- Lauralee mentioned in the Father's Day post that I was going on a business trip, but I didn't ever expound on that.
It's not an interesting story, really. My company has begun doing business with a company in Galway Ireland and another in Groningen Holland. I went to audit these companies and make sure their quality systems were up to snuff. I wasn't initially picked to go, but somebody backed out kind of last minute.
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