I remembered!
So, there was a house alarm right next door to us. Well, we all have them, but this one was blarring into our window going off continually for about oh, a day and a half...
We hear the guy walk out his door, lock it, and set the alarm. Then it goes off as soon as he walks off. EARSPLITING sounds of annoyance, especially to wake up to. He comes back, fixes it, and leaves again. This time, it takes ten minutes to go off again :) It would go off at attack mode level (richter scale of sound: 11), for about twenty minutes, then it would revert to a lower sound level beeping like a loud repeating car door bell (richter scale 8), and toggle back and forth between the two. This went on all day the last time, because it was a work day and the guy was out that long. He came home briefly, turning off the alarm, then went out again in the evening, and gave us a repeat performance of the morning act. Thats right, alarm sounds at "50, 000 drunk guys competing to repeat Monty Python skits" level. Decibles of maddness went on long after we decided to go to sleep (yeah, right) and we hear over the clamor, a grunt followed by a (comparitively) loud smashing sound, and a crash of plastic to the ground. A sickly remenant of the bell quivered to an end and all was peace and quiet the rest of the night, and this morning.
Someone came along with a sledgehammer at about midnight and fixed it himself. Oh, and we got a picture of the debris.
The end
Just a quick note to tell you all how unlightened and un PC it is here when it comes to openly using racial slurs....
The other day Matt and I were saying hello to a man on our street, and were deluged in the longest string of racial nick-names (for lack of a less cute term), just telling us about neighborhood happenings. There are a lot of refugees in this area, but HEY! That's no way to talk about people. So, we mentioned to him that we are living up the street with a Chinese lady, and her Pakistani husband (who were included in his oration) to see what would happen. Maybe illicit an apology for offending someone we know. But he went on like we never spoke...so we too moved on.
And yesterday, Matt and I were walking home from the mummie excursion, and there in broad day-light was the rudest thing I have ever seen painted on a building that wasn't meant as graffiti. It was an add painted on a pub window to come watch the world cup matches there. Its all taking place in Japan, and Ireland is playing. So this sign says in big gold, green, and white letters : "No one can beat the I'Lish!". Just like that. Jeering out of a bubble from a sumo wrestlers mouth, big and smiling. Let me just tell you how that man's face would really look if he saw that stereotype painted of him, in front of him. Well, I guess he'd still be smiling if he were inflicting pain of some kind. Now, I know I've said flied lice once or twice in my life instead of fried rice, but I was young and foolish, and now, I make public request for forgiveness. Oh my.... Be glad you nations of the politically correct!
The other day Matt and I were saying hello to a man on our street, and were deluged in the longest string of racial nick-names (for lack of a less cute term), just telling us about neighborhood happenings. There are a lot of refugees in this area, but HEY! That's no way to talk about people. So, we mentioned to him that we are living up the street with a Chinese lady, and her Pakistani husband (who were included in his oration) to see what would happen. Maybe illicit an apology for offending someone we know. But he went on like we never spoke...so we too moved on.
And yesterday, Matt and I were walking home from the mummie excursion, and there in broad day-light was the rudest thing I have ever seen painted on a building that wasn't meant as graffiti. It was an add painted on a pub window to come watch the world cup matches there. Its all taking place in Japan, and Ireland is playing. So this sign says in big gold, green, and white letters : "No one can beat the I'Lish!". Just like that. Jeering out of a bubble from a sumo wrestlers mouth, big and smiling. Let me just tell you how that man's face would really look if he saw that stereotype painted of him, in front of him. Well, I guess he'd still be smiling if he were inflicting pain of some kind. Now, I know I've said flied lice once or twice in my life instead of fried rice, but I was young and foolish, and now, I make public request for forgiveness. Oh my.... Be glad you nations of the politically correct!
We started our morning today with one phone call from a recruiter whom Matt is to interview with tomorrow morning, and a large package being delivered from the National College of Ireland, outlining a position he had applied for, describing the college and courses, and telling us the short list should be done soon, and they will inform us if Matt is on it. They are centered in Dublin. Matt and I successfully saw all of the sights around Dublin that we meant to today. Well, most of them. One of the places we tried doesn’t open to visitors until next week…the other was just a large wholesale market that was neat to see, but held little of interest for us, other than one Clydesdale (horse) pulling a wagon full of cauliflower. Then…
We went to St. Michan’s (and no one knows who that guy was…) Church. It was built first in 1095 (and the base of the tower is from that building) on a “sacred” sight from the 800’s. Most of the surviving edifice is from the 16th century; again like most churches we have seen, it was refurbished in the 1800’s. The woodwork inside the building is almost all original to the 16th century church. So the balconied gallery would have been seating parishioners since 1547ish. The most interesting piece of furniture to note was the “penitent’s pew”, dating from 1724. This lovely piece of furniture was designed to aide sinners in public confession. Nice of them, wasn’t it? It originally had wheels so that it could be taken easily from the church to wherever the offender in need of confessing was. There is a story attached to it of a man who argued with the clergy about the cost of burying his child in the church cemetery. He was told by the Archbishop of Dublin that on no grounds was he allowed to argue with the clergy, and so his penance was to confess publicly in front of the entire church (which you could guarantee had more people attending that day than most). He would have knelt on the mobile desk-like pew in the center aisle of the church surrounded by his fellows, at the feet of the clergyman who was seated on a chair before the pew. And this, I’m assuming, would be accomplished, on pain of excommunication. But, that’s just a guess.
The thing that most drew our interest to this location though, was as I mentioned yesterday, the mummies….
One was supposed to be a 700 year old Crusader (whose finger has been rubbed shiny by 200 years worth of curious visitors, Matt and I included---leathery), another was a 400 year old thief (you can tell by the fact that his right hand is amputated, and he doesn’t fit in the coffin…. cut off his legs to make him fit….), and the third was a 300 year old nun. There was a fourth but they knew nothing about him, approximately from the same period. You can still clearly see hair, blood vessels, fingernails, teeth and ears (which should have long since disintegrated) and clothing in the case of the nun.
The vaults (although, I prefer crypt for the scary effect) of the church were excavated in the 16th century, so they weren’t part of the original design. The first choice of burial locations would have been in the floor of the church above our heads. Those being full, they addedd on, or should I say, down. Here’s an excerpt from their pamphlet about the vaults:
“You enter the vaults sideways, and descend rough and ancient stone steps before you reach the floor of the vault. You enter a long passage, which had burial chambers on the right and the left. Each chamber belongs to a single family. There are still a few families which posses a key to the iron gate of the burial chamber.
If you look into one of the chambers you will see piles of coffins heaped on top of one another in many cases the coffins are in a wonderful state of preservation. (Most of these are from the 1500’s to the 1800’s, my addition). You may see the velvet that covered the wood, and the brass nails which hold the wood together.
The air in the vaults is very dry, and the only signs of life are the large cobwebs in the chambers. The floor is covered with a fine powdery dust. The temperature remains the same all the time. In 1964 A.T. Lucas, Director of the National Museum of Ireland wrote, “The church stands of formerly marshy ground and there is a relatively high methane content in the air of the vaults, which acts as a preservative.”
It’s hard to say why the bodies are preserved. It may be because the dryness of the air, or the fact that there was an oak forest nearby.”
What in the world an oak forest has to do with anything, it doesn’t say. But our guide told us that the mummification process most likely had more to do with the fact that the limestone regulates the temperature in the vaults, so no matter which one your in, the temperature only ever varies by a few degrees. Something else he mentioned was that they have never done any type of excavation there. This is a building that dates from the 11th century! At the end of one of the vaults we entered, there was an archway crammed to the top with boards and junk, and no one has ever bothered to pull them out to see what may be on the other side, or what may be in that pile of what looks like 16th century rubbish. They don’t even sweep the floors. I would have a tough time fighting off curiosity if I was working there like him. He says it bothers him sometimes, but there is little anyone can do, at this point. Someone would have a major undertaking to tackle it all. Another interesting thing he mentioned was that the coffins that get heaped one on top of the other were never ending. The families would just stack and stack until the ones on the bottom eventually got crushed. You could see on the very bottoms of the piles debris that was once a casket. He says that the toppling of the ones on the top causes them to split open, and that’s the only way the mummification was discovered. At one point not long ago this occurred in another vault (that we couldn’t go in) and they discovered a little girl aged 8, or 9 who was still perfectly preserved, clothing in tact, and facial features clearly definable, having been buried in the early 1800’s. Amazing. Scary, but intriguing, if only to see the style of clothing, and family resemblance before picture taking was popular. I guess that’s just me :) The keys that are still in circulation, among the vaults family owners, are the only ones who could imaginably come in and legally research the history of the contents.
So, that was interesting :)
Yesterday was spent almost entirely in watching world cup soccer matches. USA played Portugal and in an amazing turn of events actually won the match. Regardless of the fact that one of the USA team scored a goal in his own goal box....how embarrasing. The second game we didn't intentionally watch, but was on where we had lunch. Ireland v. Germany. And can I just tell you how the ground shakes when all of Ireland jumps up and down screaming and shouting in victorious emotion at a winning goal scored with 30 seconds to spare? It is frightening and moving to be surrounded by. I don't know how many of you keep up with this soirt of thing, but all of Ireland has been in a tizzy about their star player skipping out on the team before the first game had been played. The team coach said if you leave your not coming back, and the guy (Roy Keanne) left. He eventually tried to come back, and good to his word, Mick McCarthy saud too late. So, when the score continued to be 1:0, Germany for over 90 minutes, everyone was saying wondering silently about weather it was the right decision. The goal that won the game for them (I know, 1:1, but other points scored previously entered the equation). confirmed to everyone that the team could go on. It has been interesting to watch it play out.
As we walked home, the streets echoed around us with Ole, Ole Ole Ole, Ole, Ole!!!!!!!!!! and, repeat. Total strangers hugging in the streets because they also were clad in orange, geeen and white. Very funny to watch...i got a few pictures....
Oh that reminds me, Matt is scanning new pictures from our Glendolough expidition, and some others. So, check it out. Should be up soon.
We went to St. Michan’s (and no one knows who that guy was…) Church. It was built first in 1095 (and the base of the tower is from that building) on a “sacred” sight from the 800’s. Most of the surviving edifice is from the 16th century; again like most churches we have seen, it was refurbished in the 1800’s. The woodwork inside the building is almost all original to the 16th century church. So the balconied gallery would have been seating parishioners since 1547ish. The most interesting piece of furniture to note was the “penitent’s pew”, dating from 1724. This lovely piece of furniture was designed to aide sinners in public confession. Nice of them, wasn’t it? It originally had wheels so that it could be taken easily from the church to wherever the offender in need of confessing was. There is a story attached to it of a man who argued with the clergy about the cost of burying his child in the church cemetery. He was told by the Archbishop of Dublin that on no grounds was he allowed to argue with the clergy, and so his penance was to confess publicly in front of the entire church (which you could guarantee had more people attending that day than most). He would have knelt on the mobile desk-like pew in the center aisle of the church surrounded by his fellows, at the feet of the clergyman who was seated on a chair before the pew. And this, I’m assuming, would be accomplished, on pain of excommunication. But, that’s just a guess.
The thing that most drew our interest to this location though, was as I mentioned yesterday, the mummies….
One was supposed to be a 700 year old Crusader (whose finger has been rubbed shiny by 200 years worth of curious visitors, Matt and I included---leathery), another was a 400 year old thief (you can tell by the fact that his right hand is amputated, and he doesn’t fit in the coffin…. cut off his legs to make him fit….), and the third was a 300 year old nun. There was a fourth but they knew nothing about him, approximately from the same period. You can still clearly see hair, blood vessels, fingernails, teeth and ears (which should have long since disintegrated) and clothing in the case of the nun.
The vaults (although, I prefer crypt for the scary effect) of the church were excavated in the 16th century, so they weren’t part of the original design. The first choice of burial locations would have been in the floor of the church above our heads. Those being full, they addedd on, or should I say, down. Here’s an excerpt from their pamphlet about the vaults:
“You enter the vaults sideways, and descend rough and ancient stone steps before you reach the floor of the vault. You enter a long passage, which had burial chambers on the right and the left. Each chamber belongs to a single family. There are still a few families which posses a key to the iron gate of the burial chamber.
If you look into one of the chambers you will see piles of coffins heaped on top of one another in many cases the coffins are in a wonderful state of preservation. (Most of these are from the 1500’s to the 1800’s, my addition). You may see the velvet that covered the wood, and the brass nails which hold the wood together.
The air in the vaults is very dry, and the only signs of life are the large cobwebs in the chambers. The floor is covered with a fine powdery dust. The temperature remains the same all the time. In 1964 A.T. Lucas, Director of the National Museum of Ireland wrote, “The church stands of formerly marshy ground and there is a relatively high methane content in the air of the vaults, which acts as a preservative.”
It’s hard to say why the bodies are preserved. It may be because the dryness of the air, or the fact that there was an oak forest nearby.”
What in the world an oak forest has to do with anything, it doesn’t say. But our guide told us that the mummification process most likely had more to do with the fact that the limestone regulates the temperature in the vaults, so no matter which one your in, the temperature only ever varies by a few degrees. Something else he mentioned was that they have never done any type of excavation there. This is a building that dates from the 11th century! At the end of one of the vaults we entered, there was an archway crammed to the top with boards and junk, and no one has ever bothered to pull them out to see what may be on the other side, or what may be in that pile of what looks like 16th century rubbish. They don’t even sweep the floors. I would have a tough time fighting off curiosity if I was working there like him. He says it bothers him sometimes, but there is little anyone can do, at this point. Someone would have a major undertaking to tackle it all. Another interesting thing he mentioned was that the coffins that get heaped one on top of the other were never ending. The families would just stack and stack until the ones on the bottom eventually got crushed. You could see on the very bottoms of the piles debris that was once a casket. He says that the toppling of the ones on the top causes them to split open, and that’s the only way the mummification was discovered. At one point not long ago this occurred in another vault (that we couldn’t go in) and they discovered a little girl aged 8, or 9 who was still perfectly preserved, clothing in tact, and facial features clearly definable, having been buried in the early 1800’s. Amazing. Scary, but intriguing, if only to see the style of clothing, and family resemblance before picture taking was popular. I guess that’s just me :) The keys that are still in circulation, among the vaults family owners, are the only ones who could imaginably come in and legally research the history of the contents.
So, that was interesting :)
Yesterday was spent almost entirely in watching world cup soccer matches. USA played Portugal and in an amazing turn of events actually won the match. Regardless of the fact that one of the USA team scored a goal in his own goal box....how embarrasing. The second game we didn't intentionally watch, but was on where we had lunch. Ireland v. Germany. And can I just tell you how the ground shakes when all of Ireland jumps up and down screaming and shouting in victorious emotion at a winning goal scored with 30 seconds to spare? It is frightening and moving to be surrounded by. I don't know how many of you keep up with this soirt of thing, but all of Ireland has been in a tizzy about their star player skipping out on the team before the first game had been played. The team coach said if you leave your not coming back, and the guy (Roy Keanne) left. He eventually tried to come back, and good to his word, Mick McCarthy saud too late. So, when the score continued to be 1:0, Germany for over 90 minutes, everyone was saying wondering silently about weather it was the right decision. The goal that won the game for them (I know, 1:1, but other points scored previously entered the equation). confirmed to everyone that the team could go on. It has been interesting to watch it play out.
As we walked home, the streets echoed around us with Ole, Ole Ole Ole, Ole, Ole!!!!!!!!!! and, repeat. Total strangers hugging in the streets because they also were clad in orange, geeen and white. Very funny to watch...i got a few pictures....
Oh that reminds me, Matt is scanning new pictures from our Glendolough expidition, and some others. So, check it out. Should be up soon.
We haven’t made it to see the mummies in St. Michan’s Church (founded 1095 by Vikings, rebuilt in 1685, and restored in 1828) crypt like we were supposed to today, the rain kept us at home longer that usual, and Matt’s email job hunting is a little more important than my desire to see really old dead people. They were perfectly preserved, hair, clothes, and all from the17th century by the dry atmosphere created by the limestone walls.
It’s too bad that so much of the neat stuff to see is preserved in churches, abbeys, and cathedrals. Like, while we were in Kilkenny we went to the Black Abbey to check out some old Norman architecture again. We read all the plaques on the outside of the fort part, and went to look inside to see if there was more to it. I almost ran right back out again. The problem is that you can never quite tell if the building is still in use as a place of worship, or just as a monument to an older time. For instance the tourist information center in Dublin is inside a huge 17th century cathedral. But nothing in it is remotely indicative of sacredness, or veneration of any kind. There are just lots and lots of little green Ireland maps, t-shirts, and toys to buy, and tours to sign up for. So you never know. Anyways, I step into this place, and taking a cursory look around, spot the bishop, or whatever you call the old guy dressed in white satin and lots of gold, sitting atop a red velvet throne like thing. There are also a few older people sitting in the pews and praying. So, wanting to bolt, I step around calmly, so calmly, and turn to walk out. Matt is still inside, so I turn to go back and nod to him that I don’t want to look at anything they have there no matter how cool, or old it may be, and I may soon start telling people to read their bibles if we don’t jet. In doing so, I had to run away, droplet dodging, from a lady trying to sprinkle holy water on her granddaughter who is valiantly trying to get away as well. Matt asked me later if I thought the holy water would make me melt or something if it touched me; I told him I just wanted to be sure, just in case I started steaming or something if I got a drop on me :) The whole place gave me the willies…. But most of the places that have something of value to a tourist don’t feel that way. They usually just feel old, like their just waiting for you to take a look and snap a picture so they can come tumbling down.
So I’ll let you know what the mummies place feels like, if we ever get there :)
It’s too bad that so much of the neat stuff to see is preserved in churches, abbeys, and cathedrals. Like, while we were in Kilkenny we went to the Black Abbey to check out some old Norman architecture again. We read all the plaques on the outside of the fort part, and went to look inside to see if there was more to it. I almost ran right back out again. The problem is that you can never quite tell if the building is still in use as a place of worship, or just as a monument to an older time. For instance the tourist information center in Dublin is inside a huge 17th century cathedral. But nothing in it is remotely indicative of sacredness, or veneration of any kind. There are just lots and lots of little green Ireland maps, t-shirts, and toys to buy, and tours to sign up for. So you never know. Anyways, I step into this place, and taking a cursory look around, spot the bishop, or whatever you call the old guy dressed in white satin and lots of gold, sitting atop a red velvet throne like thing. There are also a few older people sitting in the pews and praying. So, wanting to bolt, I step around calmly, so calmly, and turn to walk out. Matt is still inside, so I turn to go back and nod to him that I don’t want to look at anything they have there no matter how cool, or old it may be, and I may soon start telling people to read their bibles if we don’t jet. In doing so, I had to run away, droplet dodging, from a lady trying to sprinkle holy water on her granddaughter who is valiantly trying to get away as well. Matt asked me later if I thought the holy water would make me melt or something if it touched me; I told him I just wanted to be sure, just in case I started steaming or something if I got a drop on me :) The whole place gave me the willies…. But most of the places that have something of value to a tourist don’t feel that way. They usually just feel old, like their just waiting for you to take a look and snap a picture so they can come tumbling down.
So I’ll let you know what the mummies place feels like, if we ever get there :)
Okay, so I have to add a little conversation to the blog of our first night in Kilkenny….Matt keeps reminding me and I keep forgetting because it shows me to have foot in mouth syndrome.
That was the night we ran into a huge cloud of comedic genius in the street outside of Kyteler’s Inn, our first venue. As we were about to part from the group, I want to tell a few of the guys there that we loved watching them on a show called Dr.Katz, that is centred around another comedian, Dr. Katz himself, having psychological sessions with people in the trade. So, instead of interrupting them all to announce that, I settle for telling Jeffery Ross that we used to love that show, and were first introduced to most of these comedians through that medium. Only I didn’t sound as smart.
“You remember that show Dr. Katz?”
“Yeah….”
“We used to love watching these guys on that show, especially Dom Irrera”
…here’s where the foot goes in….
“I was on it.”
“Really?”
“The early episodes”
“Wow, I guess I came in on the later ones…..”
….um….subject change, or something….say something that makes him think we like to watch his sets too…..
“They should bring that show back, it was really great.”
“Yeah.”
This is where we rubbed the ego by asking shyly to take a picture with the guy. He still talked to us the next day, so we must not have wounded his pride too much for him to go on with the festival. :)
That was the night we ran into a huge cloud of comedic genius in the street outside of Kyteler’s Inn, our first venue. As we were about to part from the group, I want to tell a few of the guys there that we loved watching them on a show called Dr.Katz, that is centred around another comedian, Dr. Katz himself, having psychological sessions with people in the trade. So, instead of interrupting them all to announce that, I settle for telling Jeffery Ross that we used to love that show, and were first introduced to most of these comedians through that medium. Only I didn’t sound as smart.
“You remember that show Dr. Katz?”
“Yeah….”
“We used to love watching these guys on that show, especially Dom Irrera”
…here’s where the foot goes in….
“I was on it.”
“Really?”
“The early episodes”
“Wow, I guess I came in on the later ones…..”
….um….subject change, or something….say something that makes him think we like to watch his sets too…..
“They should bring that show back, it was really great.”
“Yeah.”
This is where we rubbed the ego by asking shyly to take a picture with the guy. He still talked to us the next day, so we must not have wounded his pride too much for him to go on with the festival. :)
We made it home. Matt and I started to do a blog last night, but we had just staggered into the internet café to check Matt’s “work” email, after walking almost two miles carrying our luggage (which was light, but still tough to carry for that far) from the Heuston Train Station in Dublin. We arrived right at rush hour, so we decided to skip the taxi since the last time we did this, and took the taxi it cost almost double, and took forever, because of the traffic (and bags). And we were hungry sice we didn't eat since our monster of a breakfast....so we found a nice little sushi joint :)
The walk wouldn’t have been that bad, except for the amount of walking Matt and I have done the last 4 days in Kilkenny.
To begin with we stayed close enough to town center that we walked everywhere we went. Shows, restaurants, and sight seeing. Basically no matter where you are going in Kilkenny there is something of historical interest to stop and gape at. Most everything was built in the 13th century or earlier, and remodelled in the 16th. Most of what is used, is at least the original hull that is still standing. Like the Dublin Castle, here that is still used for the governing of the city as it originally was, the buildings in Kilkenny (usually) still serve their original purpose, especially in the case of churches, and Inns. With a few exceptions, like the Kilkenny Castle, which was a ruin in the 1970’s and got refurbished by the city as a historical tour location. Strongbow built it in the 1200’s as a defensive fort on the river Nore. It changed hands in the late 1200’s to the Buttler family (yes, the kings Butler) whose descendants lived there until the 1930’s, when it was too expensive to keep through the great depression. By the turn of the last century it had been renovated to Victorian standards, which it is also returned to now. Even down to the yellow silk wallpaper, that was woven to specifically the same pattern it was originally. Since we were here last they have finished restoring the third wing that was ruined. It now holds a lot of the entertainment and community centers (this computer is telling me that I’m spelling “centers” wrong, and that it should be “centres” instead) for the town. For instance, the Parade Tower is where the book readings were held for the festival. But, I digress ;)
There is also the Rothe House that was built in the 1500’s (again, I left all the flyers with real dates at home). It was originally built as a middle-class merchant’s house, and had two more houses added to it (stacked behind it, in a row) over the next 100 years as auxiliary for extending family and business. It now is remodelled as a museum to the time period, and the last of the three dwellings (that would have been where the children and the servants slept, on the 2nd storey, on the 3rd storey respectively) now houses the Heritage Center for all Irelands preservation projects. That is a BIG job.
Most of our walking pains come from having climbed the round tower (as I mentioned before, built in 847) that stands in front of St. Canice’s Cathedral, built in Norman times again. Inside the cathedral, almost the entire Butler family (also known as Dukes of Ormond, and Arran, other titles came and went too) are interred.
So, the tower of pain: You ascend a short iron ladder to the doorway (aka: hole in the wall) to the tower, a defensive 20 feet above ground level. You are not yet done with ladders… Inside, a gentleman takes your 2 euros and says “good luck”, as you begin your climb. May I just say that this is not for people carrying extra anything, baggage, or weight. My purse almost killed me :) Especially by the time you get to the last stretch of ladder, where the tower has tapered towards the top of the spire. You have just enough room to side step behind one ladder to the front of the next set. It is set up so you scale between 10 and 20 steps at a time, aided by a single iron rail. Then you step onto a landing, and skirt around to the next set of steps, that lies turned the other direction, so you are steadily spinning up the tower. The last stretch is the original stone steps jutting out fro the side of the wall in an almost impossibly tight circle. Then you pop out into the sky at the top. This used to be covered by a cornice that has long since become gravel at the bottom of the 167 step edifice. It was quite a view :) I took pictures like mad. One of my favourites, if it comes out well, is a view over the Smithwick’s brewery that has sprung up encircling the remains of another abbey. It’s really strange to see thousands upon thousands of kegs stacked around the bones of something that old, and realize that it was the monks who invented, and perfected beer to begin with. So it shouldn’t seem that incongruous. Climbing down was slow and muscle clenching work, slipping, not being an option one would chose lightly. I know they built landing after landing so you could only look own at intervals where you stopped by one of the windows that they threw stuff on enemies from, and you couldn’t see how far up you really where. From the top we could also see out over the Nore river valley the place we stayed at our last night there.
We accidentally stayed another night. We were meant to leave on Saturday afternoon, but were having such a good time, that we just didn’t want to go home to Dublin, and house-sharing again. Well, we said that if we could find somewhere to stay that night (Saturday) we would stay. If not, off to the train station we go. We asked at the tourist information center (a 12th century alms house for the poor), who told us that everything but the most expensive place was booked in a 13-mile radius. Hmm. So we started canvassing the town center, knocking on B&B doors seeing if anyone had cancelled, until one of the m called a friend who only opens as a B&B when its really busy. She had a cancellation! We were told to go buy lotto tickets, as we were obviously the luckiest people in Ireland. The house we stayed at was relatively newly built, on acres of lush green pasture that rolls gently down into a wooded glen that stands guard along winding stream. They had a pony named cocoa, and a 2 year old daughter named Maggie who likes to show you around the flower garden. And there is nothing as comforting as having a B&B land lady cook you a good “fry” in the morning. Fry being the big huge monstrosity that is the Irish breakfast, complete with half a stewed tomato, white pudding, sausages, rashers, eggs, and this time, potato waffles. And if you want cereal, to whet your appetite… Like anyone who isn’t a farmer can successfully negotiate that meal. The three girls that also stayed the night at the B&B polished it off with relish in the time it took Matt and I to get half way through. I guess that’s what a tough night of drinking and dancing does to a budding girl. Or something….
Okay, on to the comedy. In a word: brilliant. We saw the S.F. champion guy, and walked and talked, and got a slice with him and his wife. Turns out that he and Matt grew up in almost the same neighbourhood (again the spell check insists that I spell that with a “u”), so they both got some home-sickness off their chests. They also got us into a sold-out show (the one with Jeffery Ross) that we had been trying to get tickets too since we made our plans, so that was nice, although the theatre was stifling. I think I partially answered one quandary I had; is the comedian funny all the time? The time we spent, yes, he’s always “on”. But, I’m sure they have to turn it off sometimes.
The book reading we went to was great. We got to meet and talk to Pete McCarthy, and tell him that we were in one of the places that he wrote about when they were faxed the pages that discussed their establishment specifically and how they reacted to being called the tourist pub. That was a laugh. He told us the last time he went to that town, he was picked up by the same taxi driver that was a character in the book, and the recognized each other as author and character, and nothing at all had changed, fortunately. He was gracious enough to take a picture with Matt and sign a post card since we forgot our book in Dublin…
The next day we went to a series of short-films for cheap entertainment before our train left, since we had finally exhausted the landscape of historical trinkets. And here we are again feeling touristy and wanting to see all he things we have been ignoring in Dublin due to routine. So tomorrow, after we recoup a bit, we will try to do this place justice.
Oh, and Harris the baby has a bunch of new loud toys that his mother makes more noise with than he does, due to his 1st birthday party that we missed by design. So, that should be fun ;)
But, all in all, its still nice to be back in a place that feels like home a little :)
The walk wouldn’t have been that bad, except for the amount of walking Matt and I have done the last 4 days in Kilkenny.
To begin with we stayed close enough to town center that we walked everywhere we went. Shows, restaurants, and sight seeing. Basically no matter where you are going in Kilkenny there is something of historical interest to stop and gape at. Most everything was built in the 13th century or earlier, and remodelled in the 16th. Most of what is used, is at least the original hull that is still standing. Like the Dublin Castle, here that is still used for the governing of the city as it originally was, the buildings in Kilkenny (usually) still serve their original purpose, especially in the case of churches, and Inns. With a few exceptions, like the Kilkenny Castle, which was a ruin in the 1970’s and got refurbished by the city as a historical tour location. Strongbow built it in the 1200’s as a defensive fort on the river Nore. It changed hands in the late 1200’s to the Buttler family (yes, the kings Butler) whose descendants lived there until the 1930’s, when it was too expensive to keep through the great depression. By the turn of the last century it had been renovated to Victorian standards, which it is also returned to now. Even down to the yellow silk wallpaper, that was woven to specifically the same pattern it was originally. Since we were here last they have finished restoring the third wing that was ruined. It now holds a lot of the entertainment and community centers (this computer is telling me that I’m spelling “centers” wrong, and that it should be “centres” instead) for the town. For instance, the Parade Tower is where the book readings were held for the festival. But, I digress ;)
There is also the Rothe House that was built in the 1500’s (again, I left all the flyers with real dates at home). It was originally built as a middle-class merchant’s house, and had two more houses added to it (stacked behind it, in a row) over the next 100 years as auxiliary for extending family and business. It now is remodelled as a museum to the time period, and the last of the three dwellings (that would have been where the children and the servants slept, on the 2nd storey, on the 3rd storey respectively) now houses the Heritage Center for all Irelands preservation projects. That is a BIG job.
Most of our walking pains come from having climbed the round tower (as I mentioned before, built in 847) that stands in front of St. Canice’s Cathedral, built in Norman times again. Inside the cathedral, almost the entire Butler family (also known as Dukes of Ormond, and Arran, other titles came and went too) are interred.
So, the tower of pain: You ascend a short iron ladder to the doorway (aka: hole in the wall) to the tower, a defensive 20 feet above ground level. You are not yet done with ladders… Inside, a gentleman takes your 2 euros and says “good luck”, as you begin your climb. May I just say that this is not for people carrying extra anything, baggage, or weight. My purse almost killed me :) Especially by the time you get to the last stretch of ladder, where the tower has tapered towards the top of the spire. You have just enough room to side step behind one ladder to the front of the next set. It is set up so you scale between 10 and 20 steps at a time, aided by a single iron rail. Then you step onto a landing, and skirt around to the next set of steps, that lies turned the other direction, so you are steadily spinning up the tower. The last stretch is the original stone steps jutting out fro the side of the wall in an almost impossibly tight circle. Then you pop out into the sky at the top. This used to be covered by a cornice that has long since become gravel at the bottom of the 167 step edifice. It was quite a view :) I took pictures like mad. One of my favourites, if it comes out well, is a view over the Smithwick’s brewery that has sprung up encircling the remains of another abbey. It’s really strange to see thousands upon thousands of kegs stacked around the bones of something that old, and realize that it was the monks who invented, and perfected beer to begin with. So it shouldn’t seem that incongruous. Climbing down was slow and muscle clenching work, slipping, not being an option one would chose lightly. I know they built landing after landing so you could only look own at intervals where you stopped by one of the windows that they threw stuff on enemies from, and you couldn’t see how far up you really where. From the top we could also see out over the Nore river valley the place we stayed at our last night there.
We accidentally stayed another night. We were meant to leave on Saturday afternoon, but were having such a good time, that we just didn’t want to go home to Dublin, and house-sharing again. Well, we said that if we could find somewhere to stay that night (Saturday) we would stay. If not, off to the train station we go. We asked at the tourist information center (a 12th century alms house for the poor), who told us that everything but the most expensive place was booked in a 13-mile radius. Hmm. So we started canvassing the town center, knocking on B&B doors seeing if anyone had cancelled, until one of the m called a friend who only opens as a B&B when its really busy. She had a cancellation! We were told to go buy lotto tickets, as we were obviously the luckiest people in Ireland. The house we stayed at was relatively newly built, on acres of lush green pasture that rolls gently down into a wooded glen that stands guard along winding stream. They had a pony named cocoa, and a 2 year old daughter named Maggie who likes to show you around the flower garden. And there is nothing as comforting as having a B&B land lady cook you a good “fry” in the morning. Fry being the big huge monstrosity that is the Irish breakfast, complete with half a stewed tomato, white pudding, sausages, rashers, eggs, and this time, potato waffles. And if you want cereal, to whet your appetite… Like anyone who isn’t a farmer can successfully negotiate that meal. The three girls that also stayed the night at the B&B polished it off with relish in the time it took Matt and I to get half way through. I guess that’s what a tough night of drinking and dancing does to a budding girl. Or something….
Okay, on to the comedy. In a word: brilliant. We saw the S.F. champion guy, and walked and talked, and got a slice with him and his wife. Turns out that he and Matt grew up in almost the same neighbourhood (again the spell check insists that I spell that with a “u”), so they both got some home-sickness off their chests. They also got us into a sold-out show (the one with Jeffery Ross) that we had been trying to get tickets too since we made our plans, so that was nice, although the theatre was stifling. I think I partially answered one quandary I had; is the comedian funny all the time? The time we spent, yes, he’s always “on”. But, I’m sure they have to turn it off sometimes.
The book reading we went to was great. We got to meet and talk to Pete McCarthy, and tell him that we were in one of the places that he wrote about when they were faxed the pages that discussed their establishment specifically and how they reacted to being called the tourist pub. That was a laugh. He told us the last time he went to that town, he was picked up by the same taxi driver that was a character in the book, and the recognized each other as author and character, and nothing at all had changed, fortunately. He was gracious enough to take a picture with Matt and sign a post card since we forgot our book in Dublin…
The next day we went to a series of short-films for cheap entertainment before our train left, since we had finally exhausted the landscape of historical trinkets. And here we are again feeling touristy and wanting to see all he things we have been ignoring in Dublin due to routine. So tomorrow, after we recoup a bit, we will try to do this place justice.
Oh, and Harris the baby has a bunch of new loud toys that his mother makes more noise with than he does, due to his 1st birthday party that we missed by design. So, that should be fun ;)
But, all in all, its still nice to be back in a place that feels like home a little :)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)