The reason I haven't written lately about our looming trip to another continent has nothing to do with my lack of excitement for it, but everything to do with my psychological need to turn any extreme emotion (anticipation, excitement, cherfulness, gas) into STRESS. Every time someone asks me "how many more days" until Ireland I usually fling my hands to my forehead and say a word that Sister Rosemary would have hit me for in second grade.
IT'S COMING AND WHAT IF I FORGET TO PACK A SWEATSHIRT WE MIGHT AS WELL NOT EVEN GO.
But, once I get over that, my mind wanders to green hills and bagpipes and centuries-old ship docks and I get too excited to do anything other than daydream. So today I thought I'd share our little itinerary. Here.
The black line is where we are going/evidence of my mad skilLllLZZzz at Microsoft Paint. (I once drew a grilled cheese that you could see George Bush's face in.)
So we are flying into Belfast (TITANIC-VILLE) which is in the UK, not Ireland, in case you didn't know. I'm about 3/4 of the way through "Trinity" by Leon Uris and I can see where this is going. Northern Ireland, I don't know about you. I think you're kind of a bully.
Anyway, then we're heading to Dublin to do museums and parks and city hall and Trinity College and the Guiness factory and Temple Bar.
One day while we're in Dublin we'll do a little side trip to the Wicklow mountains to see Glendalough, which are monastic ruins from THE YEAR 600. SIX. HUN. DRED.
Then we'll trek to Tipperary for a stop at the Rock of Cashel on our way to our final spot, Doolin. Some people familiar with Ireland have said "Doolin? Really?" when I've told them we're staying there. Because I think the town is pretty much two streets of quaint buildings and the seashore. But the book I bought to help plan the trip said "do you want to hear authentic Irish music?" And I said "YES ONE MILLION." And the book said "Then go to Doolin and hang out in the pubs." And I said "DONE."
Then, when I called the absurdly adorable place we're staying to make our reservation, and the Irish-talkin' gentleman asked me "how many nights, luv" I said three, and he said "oh, darlin', good choice. No one stays here longer than one night and they always be regretting it." (His grammar was not this poor, but my conversational embellishments only serve to paint a picture of how awesomely awesome his Irishness was, so why don't you just play along, ok.)
From there we MIGHT take a day trip on the ferry to see Narnia aka Hogwarts aka The Kylemore Abbey.
Then we'll be flyin' home from the Shannon airport, luv.
Holy Sister Rosemary, I can't wait for this.