Muckross and Derrynane Houses

Several places were suggested for stops along the way as we traveled through Kerry and on to the Dingle peninsula. One of our stops was the elegant Muckross House in the Killarney National Park. The house was built in 1839-1843 for Henry Arthur Herbert and his wife, Mary Balfour Herbert, who was known for her watercolors some of which are displayed in the house.

A later owner's love of hunting is evident everywhere in the house but mostly in the original entryway and center upper hallway. Some of the deer heads are stuffed. Others are mounted in the old style of earlier years before taxidermy was prevalent. They are mere skulls of the deer, antlers attached of course, and dates and names of the successful hunter engraved on the bleached bone.

The big event that marks this house is the visit of Queen Victoria in 1861. The Herberts spent years and much of their fortune preparing for the visit in the hopes that it would give them favor and secure a position for them in the royal order of things. Victoria stayed for two nights and according to the press enjoyed her visit immensely. Bad luck for the Herberts followed however when a few months later, Prince Albert, Victoria's husband died of typhoid. In her grief and mourning, the queen forgot all about the Herberts and elevating them to a higher position. Eventually, their fortune depleted, they forfeited their home to the financial institution that held their mortgage.

We had no idea who Daniel O'Connell was when we stopped at the Derrynane House where he grew up visiting his uncle and then eventually buying the home. History is always so much more fun to learn when you can "walk" through it. Daniel O'Connell was a lawyer, politician, and statesman in the 1800s and was known as "the liberator" because of his work to win political rights for Irish Catholics. His approach was a peaceful one which upset another movement for freedom for Ireland who felt his methods were too slow. O'Connell was hailed as a champion of liberty and democracy throughout Europe.

By the time we were done going through the house, we were quite impressed with him as well. He was anti-slavery and welcomed Fredrick Douglass when the abolitionist visited Ireland. One of the tour guides gave me a quote that is accredited to Douglass upon his observing O'Connell's eloquence with speech. His words, said Douglass, are "like a summer thunder-shower upon a dusty road." As a writer, it gave me something to ponder.

Ring of Kerry

Was it really Day 9 of our trip around Ireland? After an overnight stay in Kenmare, we set out early in the morning to drive the Ring of Kerry which is actually a scenic tourist route on Iveragh Peninsula in southwest Ireland. According to our Rick Steves guide, we were supposed to go in a counter-clockwise direction. Our problem was that we were not going to complete the circuit and we wanted to end up in Dingle. It was more to our advantage, even if it meant meeting up with large tourist buses on small roads to go the opposite direction. Actually, it wasn't all that big a deal.

Along the way, we found some truly beautiful spots but much of the road traveled was not only narrow but edged by thick hedges and/or stone walls. One of the most common repairs needed on rental cars is the replacement of the side mirrors. Pass a few cars on a road like that and you can understand why. Each close call was answered with, "We still have the mirrors!"

On our way down a narrow road, we were met by a herd of sheep coming down the middle of the road straight at us. We stopped the car and waited and a few seconds later, the shepherd came around the curve in the road--in his van--with the sheepdog nipping at the tires. Modern day shepherding, I guess. By the way, you'll notice in the picture that the sheep have bright colors on them. This is the way the owners can tell which sheep are theirs. Each owner has their own colors and design. Most of the sheep we came upon throughout our trip were not behind fences but roaming wherever the grazing was best.

One of our stops along the Ring of Kerry drive was a stone ring fort. There are a lot of these in Ireland and it is kind of a seen-one-seen-them-all experience. This was our first and we found it interesting enough. We parked along the road that ended in a farmstead. A gate across the path to the fort had a homemade sign next to a coin box that asked for one euro entrance fee.

While the fellas were fishing for euro coins in their pockets, I kept hearing a the sweetest chirp of a bird. It sounded so close to me. Just about the time I was ready to break out in a rendition of one of the Disney princesses' songs, I spotted the little bird in the bush. He cocked his head in several different poses as he looked me over and chirped away. Only when I got really close with my camera did he fly away. Later I would learn that the bird was an Irish robin and was as tame as a wild bird gets.

We explored the Staigue Fort, a round fort made out of stones that have no mortar to hold them together. It is said to date back to the early centuries AD before Christianity reached Ireland. The walls were about eighteen feet high in the tallest parts and were about twelve feet thick. It was only about 90 feet in diameter but was said to hold the chieftain's family, guards, and servants. I couldn't imagine too many people concentrated into that small an area. I think there may have been some living space inside the walls but not much. It is amazing how perfectly it has survived though.

The fort was interesting but I found the skies held my focus even more. Ireland seemed to have such dramatic skies. Clouds raced across them at times. They were constantly changing. Sunny and blue one moment and dark and foreboding in the next. The reason Ireland is so green is because it rains--a lot. Although most of our days had at least some rain, usually drizzly, there were always long periods that were dry and sunny.

Everywhere we went we found bright red and purple fuchsia bushes. Hardy bushes with thick sturdy branches. They formed many of the hedges we drove past. Somewhere along the way, we found a sign that told us the fuchsias were originally from Chile and took well to the Irish climate. There was no denying that. And at least they were a little softer to brush against with your side mirror than a stone wall.

On our way back from the fort along the very narrow road with a grassy middle to the main road we were bouncing along and up a small incline. Suddenly as we topped the hill, we were met by another car coming straight at us. My brother-n-law followed his natural instinct and veered right. (Remember we should be driving on the left.) At the same time, the other car veered sharply to his right. We sat a bit and laughed hard at our near miss. We'd obviously met another American driver--thank goodness!

So, What is a cozy mystery?

When I began writing Murder Among The Orchids, I was just having fun writing a mystery with a kooky character that I fell in love with as she developed. It wasn't until I began to shop it around to publishers that I realized it was really a cozy--well, almost. The editor said she really needed to have a cat. I'm not a cat-person. I would have had a hard time writing in a cat but I thought a plant might solve the problem. After all, didn't that gardener named Jerry suggest that plants were like people and you should talk to them? People talk to cats. I rest my case.

Seriously, cozy mysteries do include some common elements: usually a very likable woman who inadvertently becomes an amateur detective--a sleuth; humor; a small town setting; and the list goes on. If you'd like a truly good run down of what a cozy mystery is, I found the Cozy Mystery List site explains it as well as anyone. When I searched for a definition this site was referred to by countless others trying to explain what a cozy is.

If you are looking for some light reading, a cozy may be exactly what you need. Oh, and one other thing--the sleuth always "gets her man."

No Baloney--It's the Blarney Stone!

Do you know the difference between baloney and blarney? Baloney is when you tell a 50 year old woman that she looks like she's 18. Blarney is when you ask a woman how old she is because you want to know at what age women are most beautiful. Or so one of the signs said as we made the climb up to the top of the Blarney Castle to see the infamous stone.

We had determined well before our trip that we would not be kissing the Blarney Stone. As I showed in a previous post, you have to lay on your back, stretch out over an open space with a drop of about a 100 feet below you and stick your lips on a stone that countless others have slobbered on. Nope. Not gonna do it.

The castle was an interesting visit however. You climb very narrow stone steps to get to the various levels. The kitchen had a huge place that at one time must have been the fireplace where food was cooked over an open fire. It was about halfway up to the dining area which means that food would have had to be carried up to the kitchen to cook and then carried up more steps to the dining hall. Guess that's why you had servants.

The castle was built back in the 1480s by Cormac Laidir (the Strong) MacCarthy and was said to have come from quite a noble lineage. He was probably the first occupant but was shortly killed by his brother who in turn was killed by Cormac's son. Quite an unsettling start to the castle's history.

As ancient castles go, the actual building went through many changes--additions, repairs because of fire, etc. But this castle holds the legend of the Blarney Stone endearing it to so many throughout the world. Legend says that a descendant of the first Cormac, Sir Cormac MacDermod tried to play both sides during the Nine Years War (1594-1603) when the native Gaelic aristocracy came together in open defiance of the English Crown. The term "Blarney" came to refer to smoothly flattering and cajoling talk.

While I fully believe that some are born with the gift of Blarney, the Monsignor Fulton Sheen had this to say, "Baloney is flattery laid on with a trowel. Blarney is flattery laid on with the lips; that is why you have to kiss a stone to get it."

Wordless Wednesday

Kinsale, Ireland

After Dublin and Waterford, it was nice to spend some time in a small town and Kinsale was all you could hope for in a quaint Irish community. Our Bed and Breakfast was in a historic building dating back to the 1800s that used to be the residence of the priests of the parish church. It was only a few steps from the main part of town.

Our first order of business was to take a historic walk of the town. Dermot Ryan's Heritage Tour had come highly recommended through Tripadvisor and Rick Steves' book on Ireland. He was a wealth of knowledge and took us through the town relating interesting bits of history using lots of illustrations that he had organized in a looseleaf binder. Why so many drawings? Because many of the very historical markers of the town had been destroyed. Still, it gave us a look into a history we were just beginning to grasp of Ireland.

Some of the buildings were painted in very bright colors. In Dublin, we had seen some very colorful doors and the story was that they were different colors so that the Irish husbands who stopped by the pub on the way home from work would be able to tell which home was theirs after their pints of Guinness. But it sounds like the colorful buildings and doors we ran across were more a statement of independence from the rule of the British royalty years before that demanded bland colors.

The harbor was full of boats but some sat on the bottom as the tide went out. The level of the water would drop about 8 feet. It was amazing to see the difference when the tide came in again.

After our dinner at the Crackpot Restaurant--all the restaurants seemed to have funky names like Fishy Fishy, The White House, Man Friday and the Stolen Pizza among them--we walked over to the Tap Tavern to get in on the Kinsale Ghost Tour. I was a little leery of this but it turned out to be great fun.

Two fellows are involved. One takes you around the town after dark and tells tales and stories of some of the folk lore. The other dresses like some of the characters in the stories and runs through the crowd in several places like a ghost run amok. It really wasn't scary and was more history and lots of fun. They ended with a tale of The White Lady who haunts the fort there. She lost her brand new husband through a serious of mishaps that all started with her wanting some flowers that grew on a cliff. We thought the story was a made up Irish tale but when we went to the fort the next day, there on one of the placards describing some of the history was the same story.

Bottom line: the Irish have a great way of sharing their history and spin a great yarn doing it.

Cobh Heritage Center, Ireland

Cobh is known as the city with three names. Originally its name was Cove, named because it was located in the cove of the harbor of Cork. But after 1849 it became known as Queenstown, named after Queen Victoria who visited the town. It seems Victoria loved to change the names of places she visited. Over the course of our visit in Ireland, we found lots of Queens Streets and names with Victoria in them that stem from her visits all over Ireland. But in 1920, it took back its original name only in the Irish form, Cobh. The name change occured at a time when Ireland was establishing its freedom from British reign.

The American connection to Cobh is through a young woman named Annie Moore who left this port on a steamship, the Nevada, on the 20th of December, 1891 with her two brothers bound for New York to join her parents who had already immigrated to the U.S. On the first of January, 1892, she was the first person to be processed at the brand new facility just opened on Ellis Island. For the distinction, she received a $10 gold piece.

Many Irish immigrated from this port to escape the extreme poverty brought on by the potato famine in the 1840s. When families or members of families decided to emmigrate to America, the remaining family and friends would hold what they called an American Wake. Now we all are familiar with the stories of Irish Wakes. These were the same type of celebration--dancing, singing, fiddling, and drinking. Quite a send off.

Cobh is also connected to the famous ship, the Titanic. This was her last stop before setting out for New York. With our fascination for all things Titanic, we couldn't pass up the chance to go through the exhibit that was set up. Since Cobh was not a deep water port, the ship had to anchor in the outer harbor and provisions and last minute passengers, both first and second class, were loaded by way of tenders. Enterprising shopkeepers also used small boats and tenders to take their fine linens, lace, and souvenirs out to the huge ship so they could sell their wares to the wealthy passengers on board.

One of the exhibits was set up to look like one of the staterooms. While I don't think this was the finest accommodation, judging from the fur in the box on the bed it had to be at least one of the first class or second class. Certainly not steerage. And certainly not what today's cruiser experiences.

The Kennedy Homestead in Ireland

The Kennedy Homestead was not an easy place to find. As a matter of fact, we thought we might be in danger of losing one of our side mirrors to get there. The roads in Ireland are labeled with an M, N, R, or L. The M roads are super highways, nicely paved, 4 to 6 lanes and usually divided. The N roads are at least two lanes and usually paved well although there were some that could have used another topping of asphalt. The R roads are a little iffy. They are almost two lanes but can sometimes become more like one lane. They sometimes have a dashed line down the middle.

But the L roads. . .well, these are anything. They are usually only one lane with hopefully enough room to pass the oncoming car. If not, you back up to a wider spot or inch your way along and tuck in your side mirrors to pass. Side mirrors are the one thing replaced most often on Irish rental cars. Why? In addition to the narrow road, there are often stone walls lining the street covered with vines or hedges making them appear softer than they are. And then when you see grass growing in the middle of the road, you know you are on a back road--probably a LL.

Such was the road we found ourselves on to get to the Kennedy Homestead. Just finding the turnoff to the road was a challenge since the direction we came from didn't have it marked well. But it was worth the bumping, the dodging of cars, and the whomping of bushes against the car doors.

We were welcomed by a descendant of the Kennedys whose grandmother had welcomed JFK on his visit to the homestead in 1963 just a few months before his death. He took us into a viewing room where we watched a ten minute video of the visit. For a few minutes, we were transported back in time to see the president that had made such an impact on our lives when we were teens and young adults.

Once the video was finished, we were escorted around the small grounds that we had seen in the video. It is hard to imagine how they fit so many people into that courtyard for his visit that included tea and sweets for all provided by the locals. It was a down-home get together for all the world to see.

Our host pointed out the collected documents that show the lineage of the Kennedys. Patrick, of course, being the one who went to America. Our host's theory was that he went for love not for money. The Kennedys were in a situation that was much better than most during the potato famine and he wouldn't have had to emigrate to the U.S. because of financial problems.

It is a great story and he told it well including all the details of the story told him by his grandmother of JFK's visit. In the middle of his talk, a beeper went off. He apologized. "Wife's workin'. I need to turn the oven off. Dinner's cookin'."

He stuck the beeper back in his pocket and went on prompting all the wives in the group to worry about an overcooked meal. Finally one lady said, "We'll wait if you want to go over and turn the oven off."

"Naw," he replied just like a man, "It's okay."

The tour over, we were left to wander the out buildings a bit, read the tidbits of ancestry, and peruse the pictures. Our host disappeared long enough to turn off his oven. Meanwhile, we found a wreath in one of the small buildings that JFK had placed at the graves of those executed in the 1916 Rising. It was given to the Kennedy family.

Bob couldn't stand it. He had to ask. "What's for dinner?"

"Some kind of spaghetti thing," he answered. "Bolognese?"

"Ah, my favorite! What time's dinner?"

Having spent enough time in Ireland at this point, I almost expected him to tell Bob, "Why don't you stay."

Hook Head Lighthouse, Ireland

We wound our way through the streets of Waterford to find the laundrette that was recommended to us. It was time to get some clean clothes. Four people in a VW Passat--you definitely want clean clothes. The laundrette charged by the pound but it was worth it. We only had room for a small carry-on sized piece of luggage each. Four of them fit snugly in the trunk along with our small backpacks for travel.

After leaving the laundry for pickup at the end of the day, we turned the car toward our first destination of the day, Hook Head Lighthouse. At Passage East just a bit outside of Waterford, we took a ferry across the River Suir to Ballyhack on drove on to the lighthouse that sits out at the point Hook Head Peninsula. It was built back in the 13th century by the Earl of Penbrook to help his ships navigate into Waterford Harbor.

We climbed the 115 steps to the top for a view of the seaside. The lighthouse has been fully automated since 1996 and is one of the oldest operational lighthouses in the world.

As an interesting side note, Cromwell is said to have coined the phrase "by Hook or by Crooke" when he said he would take Waterford. Hook refers to the Peninsula and Crooke to a small town further in toward Waterford.

We took time for a morning tea break. It's hard to pass up the smell of fresh scones. As I walked out of the cafe, I went through a small art center that holds classes for children during the summer. The artist/teacher also holds watercolor classes for adults. We struck up a conversation and compared notes about teaching art. Who's easier to teach? We both agreed. Kids!

Wordless Wednesday

Waterford Crystal

While glass making in Ireland dates back to the 13th century, the Waterford Crystal that is so famous was begun in 1783 when two brothers, George and William Penrose, started their crystal making in the town of Waterford. They were renowned for their crystal but unfortunately less than 100 years later, the company failed. In 1947, a crystal company was started up again in Waterford. This time the company flourished and, as they say, the rest is history.

Recently the company reduced its size and moved its headquarters into the city. A couple thousand employees, including artisans, were laid off. What has happened, we suspect, is that many of the artisans have set up their own small shops in other towns throughout Ireland. There is crystal to be had almost any where you turn.

The tour through the Waterford complex was a lot nicer than we expected. We actually got to see close up how the crystal pieces are made. It was amazing. After a short video, our first stop was the wooden mold shop where we watched a worker use a large lathe to make a mold that would help to shape one of the glass products. On the ledge near us was a mold marked "American Football." Keep that thought for later on.

Next we got to watch one of the glass blowers work his magic on a glob of hot glass. What makes the glass crystal is the added lead content. Lead oxide or "red lead" is added to the glass formula.
The glass was shaped and reheated and shaped some more. As he blew into it, he placed it in one of the wooden molds to be sure the shape would be standard. The piece is then placed in a cooling unit that gently brings the temperature down.

Quality control comes next. The pieces are inspected for flaws and rough edges sanded down. Then they are ready for the truly interesting part--the cutting.

The pieces, in this case vases, are placed on a turn table that is set up with black ink pens that draw lines on the glass to guide the artisans who will cut the familiar patterns into the vase. I was amazed at their concentration even with the tour group standing so near. At the end of the room there were two large cabinets where large bowls were being cut by robots. Sad to think artisans might be replaced by machines.

Once the glass is cut, the piece is put in a solution of sulfuric and hydrofluoric acid for a specified time which makes all the milkiness disappear and leaves only the clear sparkling crystal.

At another station, we watched other artisans carve special order pieces like trophies. Remember the American Football mold? It was actually for the NCAA College Bowl and we were probably the closest any Buckeye will get to it this year.

One piece we saw on display during the tour that caught my eye was a scene of Santa sitting in a rocker surrounded by a Christmas tree and presents. The unusual thing was that you looked through a window etched in one side of the vase to the scene etched on the other side of the vase.

After seeing how it is all made, I have a new appreciation for Waterford Crystal. Still, considering the breakage in the dish washing process at home, I'm still not sure I want to spend that much money on glasses for our table.

Ireland - Rock of Cashel

Our first attempt to visit the Rock of Cashel was foiled by Hurricane Katia. By the time we arrived at County Tipperary and the little town of Cashel, the winds from Katia who had found her way to Ireland along with us were so strong that the heritage site which sits high atop a hill was closed because you would have been blown off of your feet. While Katia was the reason for closing this time, it is not an uncommon problem. The winds are always strong there. But we returned the next day to explore.

The Rock of Cashel is actually a complex of buildings dating back mostly to the 12th century. The landmark tower, the tallest structure, dates to 1100, the chapel to the early 1100s and the large cathedral to the early 1200s. There are several tombs that were excavated that they believe date back to around 900. It is amazing that things that old can survive so much especially when they are in an area like this where the elements can wear away at them.

We were unable to get into Cormac's chapel which is said to be the most important building historically and architecturally. They are doing major work there to preserve the frescoes inside. That's as good an excuse as any for having to return and visit again.

The arches in the cathedral are dramatic and if you look closely, you can see some details in the work. Legend associates St. Patrick with the Rock and there is a cross dedicated to him outside the cathedral.

There is a large cemetery full of crosses and grave markers. Just outside a door of the cathedral is a beautiful example of a celtic (pronounced kel-tic) cross. Legend says that when St. Patrick was preaching to some soon to be converted heathens, he was shown a sacred stone marked with a circle that symbolized the moon goddess. St. Patrick made the sign of the cross through the circle and thus created the first celtic cross. The legend thus implies that St. Patrick was willing to meld some of the Druid practices with Christian beliefs. It is consistent with the stories that he converted many Druids into becoming Christian priests.

Of course St. Patrick is also said to have cleansed the country of all snakes--for which I would be eternally grateful. But it seems there never were any snakes to begin with. Instead it is thought that the snake being a symbol of evil was associated with his driving the old evil pagan ways from Ireland. Whatever the case, St. Patrick is honored all over the countryside.