Otherwise known as Cliffs of Insanity (Princess Bride).

A bit of sunshine and a little less rain made today all the more special.

This is a story I heard today. In order to protect the confidentiality of the persons in the story certain details have been changed.

About a decade ago a local business man was asked by a tourist the best place to see Fungie.   Fungie is a dolphin who has been living in Dingle’s harbor for the past thirty or so years. He, the dolphin, loves attention and has been performing for tourists and locals for quite some time now. There is a statue of him in the harbor. Boat operators take you out to him, money back if Fungie doesn’t show.

So the local business man had a bad heart. He did not have private insurance and therefore was expected to wait a very long time before receiving the proper medical attention. He was in fact not feeling well the day the tourist came around asking about a friendly dolphin. Regardless the man decided to take the tourist on a tour of Dingle in his own car. The tourist is flabbergasted by this completely unsolicited act of kindness. He also senses something wrong with the man. The tourist it turns out is a cardiologist.

If you guess that the tourist /cardiologist fixed the man’s heart you would be right. He did so within a short time of meeting the local business man and refused all payment saying that he just wanted to match the man’s kindness.  The local recently sent a card to the doctor. It read, “Thank you for the last ten years.”

Did that actually happen? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way it’s a good story.

We started with the understated  (Cashel Rock) then the overexposed (Blarney Castle). Afterwards it was a bed and breakfast over a pub. It rained, it misted and if we complained there was always someone to remind us that this is Ireland.

So Henna was the only one brave enough to kiss the stone. Blarney Castle and Gardens is actually a lot more than a kissable rock. It is a lot of paths and ancient ruins as well as a running river.   Easily worth spending the day.

Cashel Rock was a mighty good roadside attraction of epic historic proportions. About a thousand years old it figured well in the spread of Christianity and includes a rare round tower and a lot of sweeping views of the Irish country side.

Driving from Blarney Castle the road twisted and the locals gave a friendly blast of the horn whenever they saw me coming (especially when I drifted a bit too far to the right). We pulled into a bed and breakfast over a pub and then settled into pints, pool, and whiskey. There was a very friendly and gassy terrier for Henna to play with. Corey beat two locals at pool. I learned a little about Galic football and other Celtic traditions. Love this island.

Henna, our new friend Dylan, and Corey

The thing about Ireland is that even on its most weather dreary day there is always somewhere warm and dry to have a breakfast, coffee, or a drink. This morning it was Molloy’s where Henna and I split a traditional Irish breakfast; an egg, rashers (meaty bacon), baked beans, white pudding (similar to kishke if you happen to know what that is), mushrooms, home made brown bread and sausage. Corey had a white coffee (a creamier cappucino) and Henna was served tea with an extra pot of water and a dainty cream holder. Corey also had a homemade scone. It was all less than $18.

The other thing that goes without saying is the witty and inquisitive banter that is everywhere. Just open your mouth and someone will answer you. 
Answer back and they will ask where you are from. Laugh with them and you will have a new friend. About to test this theory out at pub below the room we are renting for the night. Will let you know how it goes.

Another day another country and this time they speak English!  They also drive on the left side of the street which might take a bit of time getting used to. Enjoy a few pictures taken along Bray’s brightly lit waterfront.

Huh?

On the last morning in Paris Nicole drove us to the airport. In doing so our kind hostess transformed into a NYC cab driver, snaking in and out of lanes and riding the bumper of any car that dare to linger in the left lane. Driving here is not for the weak.

Living here I think though would please anyone. Besides the magnificience of a mature and intricate city, the people are warm and engaging.  Surprised? So are the French when you tell them. This is not modesty (that is not French) but the result of them watching a million movies telling them they are arrogant. They are not arrogant. Just particular and if you relax and enjoy their level of care everyone will be better for it.

We worried a lot about crime. Would Paris be as safe as Chicago?  Really though can anywhere ever be as safe as Chicago. Our parents, fellow tourists, Nicole, and many pamphlets warned of the pickpocket as well as other more   quaint cons like three card monte. So I wore my wallet in my pants (which made every purchase obscene). And each bump into a fellow tourist resulted in a scowling stare down (You’re not getting my wallet grandma from Omaha!). The worst we suffered was an aggressive hard sell (I bumped shoulders with a man trying to put a cloth bracelet on Henna’s wrist, his friends forming a wall around us). Otherwise Paris charmed us with every turn and the little rain was a welcomed reason to sit and sip our cappuccinos while the drops fell on cobblestone.

Now for a bit of street art taken by Corey.

They are comically old cars, some you have to open by flipping a lever down with a snap (and from inside you can actually open the door before the train comes to a complete stop).  And they are color coded in weird secondary colors like light yellow and slightly darker yellow as well as a light green yellow line. I am talking of course about the Metro which whiz below Paris with open windows that alllow for an impressive breeze.  We had our struggles today and a couple times the train let us down (note: not every connection is clearly marked). But oh the places it took us.  Paris for us was not love at first sight but we are now officially smitten. 

Locks sold by street vendors and no more room on bridge for them

On the man made beach banks of the River Seine

That is a lot of people looking at the Mona Lisa!

Part 1:

Our first airbnb was followed by our second train trip (Chicago to NY and now Luxembourg to Paris). For those  not in the know Airbnb is a do it yourself bed and breakfast kind of thing (but usually without the breakfast ). Someone, anyone, opens their place up and you spend less than you would at a hotel but more than a campground. Last night was great but hot night plus no AC (Europe has so very little of this) and windows that open only a maddening crack and then no screen (and this is like every window in Europe) which meant a restless night. 

In thr AM we readjusted our packs, rode the city bus to the train station and then ate another croissant with espresso with the bags resting by our feet.

Part 2

The train ride was smooth and on time. Another espresso woke me up and finding the bus to our new Parisian home was easy. And then the bus broke down. So we waited mostly with women wearing saris or beautiful African head wraps or hajibs or fashionable dresses and then together rushed the next bus our crazy large backpacks a serious cog to the system.  At our stop it is time to play The Amazing Race with a few scribbled notes for clues (for example “at the bank go right.”) We manage to pick the right apartment (we know it’s the right one because the code opened the front door) but are then unsure which apartment to ring. We ring two. One door opens and our hostess, Nicole, who has rented a room to tourists for less than one year, shows us our amazingly perfect digs. A window that opens wide, comfortable beds, and an inviting place filled with snapshots taken in the U.S. and Canada.  Nicole is fun, generous (she let’s us use her washing machine), and knowledgeable. With clothes drying now in her living room (yep, undies too) we plan our next few days.

Part 3:

Took a nap. It was a great one and the first in over a month. Woke up feeling groggy but rested and we took a short walk for sushi (excellent and not too expensive) then Minions. During the previews the fire alarm came on. Not hysterical but a definitive push out the door in the city recently rocked by Islamic terrorists. We milled around outside the theater before being let back in (the alarm was just one of those things). Not sure we could have followed the Minion plot even if it was in English.

Part 4:

After the movie we discover the Paris people come too. A short steep walk leads to Montmartre Basilique du Sacre-Coeur and the view as well as the approach are spectacular. We mill about, get lost several times, and then stop to pick up wine and a few groceries on the way back to the apartment.  Corey and Henna play cards while I write these words, cigarette smoke and voices wafting in from below.

How many famous Luxembourg citizens can you name. I mean of course besides champion water skiing champion Sylvie Hülsemann.  Per Wikipedia they have had a couple of solid artists but this nation of half a million (with about  100,00 living in Luxembourg City) are really defined more by what surrounds them than by whom they are.

1960s era fire truck repurposed as a camping vehicle

We have been here two days and have seen lizards, teenage toughs at the train station, streets named after U.S. presidents, and the calmest European plaza so far. A fun one too with a large orchestra playing marching songs and people politely clapping when they are done. We also have camped under a highway bridge, talked to a fellow camper from Spain while she machine sewed aprons to sell at the market, and were confounded by historic sites that lacked English signage (this in a country where almost everyone speaks English along with French, German, and Luxembourgish – yes Luxembourgish is a real language). So we made up what we thought the history of Luxembourg was. It involved dragons. Lots of dragons.