Today's Count: One Flat Tire. One Light-house. Half a waterfall. Sheep.

It's been a few days—we thought there wasn't internet at the hostel last night, until Bre talked to a Texan staying upstairs and he gave us the password. Tonight, we're at a B&B on the beach in Youghal and I don't think there's internet here either, so this post might not go up until we get to Cork!



Yesterday we stayed in Tramore: a beautiful, old, little town perched on the crest of the cliffs that dive into the south-eastern Irish Sea. It's about ten minutes outside Waterford City. Once we got checked into the hostel, we drove into the city and went on an historic tour through Waterford (Crystal Factory town, though we didn't make it to the factory). The tour was led by a sweet Irish man who took us through Ireland's first Catholic cathedral, and through Ireland's oldest protestant church (which were both designed by the same man—a protestant with twenty-two kids. He designed the beauties and his wife did the book-keeping).

Our roommate in Tramore was a Czech lady biking south on holiday from some refugee job she does in Kilkenney.

Colleen and I went on a random Ferris wheel in the middle of town, from which we could see the whole city.

Todayyyy was quite an adventure.

We left Tramore early this morning and began the trek along the ocean, in search for Hook Head Lighthouse, Ormond Castle and Manor House, and Mahon Falls. On the way to the lighthouse, we took a car ferry across the water (INSANEE) and I stalled on the way up the ramp (the men behind us got a kick out of that). I believe I should start charging admission for all the amusing scenes I've caused behind the wheel.

<--(view of Hook Head Loop from the Car Ferry)

The lighthouse is an old medieval structure, and the oldest still-functioning lighthouse in Europe! (*coool.*).

We didn't tour inside it because we talked to a woman inside the lighthouse cafe who said it was 1. very high 2. not worth it. A bunch of fireplaces and nonsense. Her kids came back from the tour and said about the same thing.

So we played in the wind-blown grass around the cliffs and the sea, crawling among the exposed rocks before the tide rose to wash out the terrain.



When we returned to our car, the tire was ... less-than ideal. Thus began the nail-biting race to fill the tire before it completely deflated and began bending the rim.

Oh wait. I already did that.

At any rate, I've had more conversations with the Irish people—asking directions, looking for help, learning their lives—than I think I have had with strangers in America. “Stranger” just isn't a part of their vocabulary.

In Carrick-on-Suir, we took a private tour through the Ormond Castle and Manor House—the Butler family is following us around here. Yesterday we went to Kilkenney Castle and learned about Queen Elizabeth's “black husband”--the Butler man whose family owned Ormond Castle and who was related to Anne Boyeln (Henry VIII, anyone? That man, by the way, has quite a horrible reputation out here. Obviously).

When one Irishman holds a grudge against a man, Ireland holds a grudge against the man, too.

After Ormond Castle we decided to skip Mahon Falls and continue on to Ardmore and Youghal, for the sake of time.

But when Colleen looked up the falls and saw they were “on the way,” we decided to take a detour and find the much-hoped-for landmark.

Thus began the hour-long adventure through the winding hills of the Comeragh Mountains. We passed quite a few sheep roaming the hills, or seeking shelter from the sleeting rain.

Oh, yes, we have finally found the rain. After a week of beautiful clear skies, the clouds have frowned their scowl into the holiday, casting the pale gray halo over our faces and the water drops across all our photographs.

Any rate, we found the waterfall as well, but it was a fifteen-minute hike from the road, so we decided to take pictures from afar and continue on to Youghal. I frowned sadly as we passed the sign to Ardmore. We had to check into the Bed and Breakfast by 6pm so we didn't have time for any other last-minute detours. Sigh.

Youghal's full of old people, fishermen, and foreigners running small businesses in the nooks and crannies of this fisher-town.

Last night we headed down the street to the pubs frequented by the locals, in hopes of finding some “traditional live music” ... or, as Leah (lady running our bed and breakfast) sheepishly called it, “old-folks' tunes.” Unfortunately the only "live music" we found was by a band called Soul-d out, and they only played two 80s flashback songs before they needed a "break" ... and never came back.


We've settled in Cork now and are heading back out to see a Fort and a Castle in Kinsale. Wish us luck with driving--I parked on a steep incline.

Bye, then.