The trip down south to county Kerry was really nice. Evonne (one of the Irish girls) has a mobile home on the western Irish coast right next to the sea
. This was not the traditional scenery you might expect from Ireland. The beach was an immaculate, beautiful soft sandy beach almost entirely void of people. The water was even reasonably warm! To make the whole experience uniquely Irish, there was an old castle perched perfectly on the hills above as if Hollywood had placed it there. In this small town of Ballyheigh, this weekend was the traditional celebration of the pattern festival. This was a real glimpse into small time Ireland. Various families presumably from around the county descended on Ballyheigh for the weekend to set up stalls and peddle useless old antiques. These were the types of goods that left you wondering, "how the hell does anyone actually get their hands on these things in the first place" The big blow up jumpy structure did look fun though.
That afternoon we went into town to some of the local pubs that were blasting live Irish music into the streets. What we found inside wasn't what was expected. The average age in the pub must have been at least 60, everyone was in their Sunday best and of course drinking a pint of Guinness. However, these old timers were no joke on the dancefloor, they were gettin down. It was a little scary when John found himself face to face, within 3 inches of one old mans face when he let out a grin that would have slayed Achilles himself. To put it nicely, dentistry is not a popular profession here.
Tomorrow we are off to Turkey by way of London. We have a long 24 hour layover in London, but we should be touching down in Istanbul on the 11th.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PARIS!
As soon as we landed in Ireland, John was almost immediately sick. Exhausted from the day and a half of travel and in desperate need of food to quell our shortening tempers, we had to eat. None other than the traditional Irish breakfast of course. We found our way into a small café, sat down for the meal. Paying no attention, John dumped a heap of salt into Kristina's tea thinking it was sugar. It wasn't funny at the time, neither was the black blood pudding or the white (meat) pudding. The next order of business was to find the hostel and fall asleep. We had come to Ireland first in hopes of meeting some friends of Johns from his year abroad in Scotland, and when we woke the next morning, as planned, we were united in our hostel room.