Tralee to Dingle to ?

Left my hostel after a nice breakfast with Alex, a Finnish (or was he Danish...?) guy who lived and worked there, and headed towards the town park to kill some time before my bus at 11:30. Found it easily, and went in. HO-LY COW. Roses. Everywhere. The entire portion of the park that I was in (which, granted, was only a smallish portion of the park proper which was LARGE) was filled with beds and beds of roses. Apparently there's a famous poem (which I photographed and will post) about a rose garden in Tralee, so the town has commemorated it with a statue in this massive rose garden. Each separate bed has a different variety of roses in all sizes and colors, and these roses were legit. They smelled PHENOMENAL. I don't know how we have roses in the states that are just bred for their color and not their scent, because these roses were stunningly colored and scented. I repeat: HO-LY COW. Took about 20394598 pictures, so you'll have to bear with me. Finally left the gardens and headed towards the bus station.
The ride from Tralee to Dingle was uneventful, but fairytale beautiful. As we started out, the morning fog hadn't yet burned off completely so the dramatic valleys and hills were obscured, but as we drove onwards, the fog cleared and we were left with sweeping views up the valley we were driving along.It reminded me quite a bit of driving along the Grand Canyon, with all the narrow, switchbacked roads. Fewer instances of thinking I was about to die than I had in Arizona, but breathtaking nonetheless. Some of these sheep are, I think, Velcroed to the hillsides.

I arrived in Dingle around half 12, and was met almost immediately by Dingle (the person, Claire Dingle, who is doing the same Hendrix in London program that I'm on)! I was very grateful to have someone meet me at the bus stop... it's not a station at all, and I think I'd have felt pretty lost had I just shown up, hoping to find a place to stay. So the lovely girl met me at the bus stop and took me straightaway to our little B&B on the Bay: the Blooming Wildflower, I think it was called. Anyway, our room was gorgeous, more of an apartment than a bedroom, with kitchen and an enclosed sun porch to watch the sun rise and set from. Because we could easily watch both. So we ditched my stuff and then headed out to find some grub. A band of boys pointed us towards The Diner (creative name) to find a great burger, and they didn't lead us astray. My bacon cheeseburger was loaaaaded with strange things like red relish and more traditional things like tomatoes and lettuce and onions, and it was BEAUTIFUL. Could barely fit the thing in my mouth, it was so stacked full, but I managed OK. After lunch, Dingle and I wanted to go find Fungee the Dingle Dolphin, so off we went.

The thing about Fungee is that he's a main attraction in the town of Dingle. There are boats that go out just to find Fungee, and he's so good about showing up for his public appearances that the tours will refund your money if he doesn't show. Dingle and I, being poor college students, chose to walk along to beach to the inlet that the boats drive through rather than pay 16 Euro for a boat. So we were headed towards the beach when we noticed this fabulous little wool shop, the Kerry Wool Mill. In we went, and didn't leave til we had both fallen in love with more hats and sweaters than is sensible. I limited myself to a red sweater, and Dingle to a wool fedora... but then we vowed to the shopkeep that we'd be back tomorrow. Brilliant, girls.

Anyway, trekked onwards to the beach. It was a GORGEOUS day (nb: from what I gather, weather here should be absolute shit at this point in the season. But (I hesitate to even mention it, because I'll probably ruin it... gotta find some wood to knock on) we've had unseasonably warm weather the entire time I've been in Ireland. When Patsy and I walked the Walls of Derry it was probably in the mid to high 60s, and since I've been in Dingle, it's been in the low 70s during the day. Stunning, stunning weather, temperature-wise, and I'm not even going to TYPE the R-word to say that I haven't gotten any), and we met a little old Swiss woman who we helped along the rocky bits of the beach, and an Irish DJ from a few towns over who hung out with us on the beach for a while. We saw Fungee, but the best part was enjoying the sandy bits of beach and exploring the mini-caves along the water. Dingle and I both climbed up this watchtower overlooking the inlet, and we both had our feet in the water. COLD WATER.

After hanging out for a couple hours, we decided to head back to town to grab some more grub. Ate at a pub called Murphy's, and met an American girl while we were there. She came in alone, so we invited her to join us and she did! Her name was Liz, and she had just graduated from college and was on a 6 week tour. 3 weeks in Greece (she had studied abroad there, apparently), and 3 more in Ireland. So she joined us for dinner, and then left with us to go to a different pub that we had seen adverts for traditional music later in the evening. So on we went to O'Flaherty's, where we watched this guy play, literally, 6 different instruments incredibly well (2 accordions, a guitar, a banjo, a mandolin-type-sorta-looking-thing, and a recorder). Plus sing. He was incredible. Exhaustion finally overtook us, and we headed back to our respective B&Bs. A thing about Dingle: it's this narrow peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic. Not a lot around it but hills and ocean. So once you get out of town's main drag (about a 7 minute walk), there's not a whole lotta light. And if you're a nerd like me, you think to look up and see how the stars are faring. And if you're a nerd like me, you about fall over when you realize that the beautiful clear weather + being on an isolated Irish peninsula means that the star gazing is INCREDIBLE. I was wiped out, but not so much so that I couldn't sit outside for a half hour, staring at the Milky Way clearly splashed across the heavens. Breathtaking.

Next day we were up for an 8:30 breakfast of french toast, cooked by the owner, Marianne. She was this tiny American ex-pat (though when I called her that, she laughed and said she's still a patriot) from Seattle, and she cooked a mean breakfast. Dingle and I had grand plans to rent bikes and ride to the end of the peninsula to see Slea Head, but that didn't happen at all. Instead, we spent half the morning trying to call stables in hopes of taking a ride along the peninsula and, when that failed, calling bus touring companies to drive along the peninsula and, when that failed, sitting around in our room. So the bikes was really our third line of planning. When we finally decided that we would be better served wandering around on foot, seeing the scenery, than sitting in our room seeing it (though it's gorgeous from there as well, as you'll see when I finally get some of these pictures posted), we were hungry and went searching for food first. Which ended up being quite a to-do. Places either only served dinner or were so expensive that we couldn't justify it. We stopped into shops all throughout our food hunt, and by the time we finally found Deirdre's Cafe and ate there, we just didn't feel like renting bikes. So we didn't, but we did meet lots of really nice people over the course of our Dingle wanderings. The town is adorable.

Headed back to the B&B to rest up and read for a while. Our room had a great library of Irish books, travel and fiction and other types of non-fiction, plus a great DVD library. So we were GOING to watch Waking Ned Divine in honor of being in Ireland, but we opted out and Dingle surfed the web while I read this great book, McCarthy's Pub (Rule number 8 of travel: ALWAYS stop into a pub that has your name on it). Enjoyed ourselves immensely, and only left for dinner when we realized around 8 that places might well stop serving food after a point. We got some really good Chinese food at a pretty swanky place, and almost called it a night. We were full to bursting, but I really wanted to check out this place, Dick Mack's, that we had heard about. And plus, Liz had said that she might go there. Away we went.

As we were approaching, Dingle and I were wondering aloud about whether or not we'd be able to spot it, and if we remembered exactly where it was from our day's wanderings. A flirty older man who happened to be standing in the doorway OF Dick Mack's reeled us in, and so started a great evening with great craic. Met a few Americans, including a just-college-graduate, Mike, who was on vacation with his parents and a couple from Kansas City; plus Tom (the flirty local who had met us so kindly in the doorway); plus Mike the bartender. It was such a great time, and we were sort of loathe to leave, but we were wiped out from our wanderings (good thing we didn't go on the bikes!) and had to be up early this morning.

Marianne made a traditional Irish breakfast for us of sausage and eggs and ham and toast, and then we were off to the bus station, headed to Tralee. On the bus, I was still trying to decide where I wanted to go next, so while Dingle slept, I perused my Ireland guidebook. Finally settled it that I would go to Killarney, and from there POSSIBLY to Kenmare. Well, I arrived in Killarney, found the tourism office, and the man there sold me so completely on the city that I've taken up a brief residence in the Saratoga Guest House just across the street from the National Park. Plan for tomorrow is to rent a bike, ride down to see Ross Castle, and take a boat from there through the lakes (with my bike), where I'll be able to ride back up towards town. Or I might go horseback riding. Haven't sorted it completely yet. Maybe after some food I'll have a better idea of what I'm looking for...

Signing out from Killarney!