Happy St. Paddy’s Day!

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day I decided to visit the archives of my pre-Carmageddon days and pull out some photos from our trip to Ireland in 2009.

Where St. Patrick baptized the masses

Now, I will regale you with a story from our trip.

When we arrived in Ireland we were staying in the quaint little village of Adare. Located just outside of Limerick, the village is known for it’s thatched-roof cottages and the ruins of a castle from the middle ages. We were staying at a resort that was on the former grounds of said castle. As we were checking in at the manor house, we asked the concierge how we could go about hiring a driver for a day. We had a rental car but were planning to go through a treacherous pass to get to the Dingle Peninsula and it had been recommended that we not drive there ourselves. The concierge told us there were several local drivers he could recommend and he would get us the information.

Less than 30 minutes later the door to our villa opens and a bear of a man saunters into our entryway. He introduced himself as Tim and told us he heard we were looking for a driver and just exactly where did we want to go and when? He produced his business card and brochure then proceeded to sit down at our table. This was our introduction to the man who would become critical to our successful negotiation around the sites of the Emerald Isle.

He drove a Mercedes Benz passenger van and took us to The Burren where he showed us Neolithic ruins of dwellings that dotted the landscape as well as burial sites.

We went to the Cliffs of Mohr, the Dingle Peninsula, we kissed the Blarney Stone and frolicked on the beach where Ryan’s Daughter was filmed. All the while Tim would point out and divert us to little points of interest. He would answer all our endless questions about Irish culture, history and modern Ireland.

When we said we wanted to go to explore County Cork and see Cobh (where most of the immigrants left from to head to the U. S., also where the Titanic set sail from) Tim plotted out our drive for us on our map. He made sure to tell us of the little side interest points we wouldn’t want to miss. He would even call us on our cell phones to make sure we were OK and arrived where we were supposed end up. He plotted our jaunts to Galway and Dublin too. He would give us directions in Irish – speak using terminology we were unfamiliar with like, “slip road” (exit ramp) & “round about” (traffic circle). His most famous saying was, “It’s a BIG sign, ya can’t miss it!” (which we invariably missed) and that became our catch phrase for the trip.

He told us which whiskey was best (Red Breast, not Jameson).

He told us instead of paying 18 euro for the Guinness tour and getting one pint we should go support the local pub and buy several pints of Guinness for the 18 euro.

He told us which on & off bus tour we should do in Galway.

He told us to make sure we visited the old jail in Dublin (we did & it was awesome).

He told us to order the “bacon & cabbage” at a local pub (we didn’t and regretted it).

He told us not to drink the Potcheen, which is Irish moonshine  (we didn’t listen and again regretted it).

But, my all time favorite Tim story is when we asked him if he had ever been to America:

“Aye. I came to the States to visit the wife’s family. We landed in New Yawk airport and we was goin tru the Customs. A Black feller asked if we had anything to declare. I said,” No”. They had a dog sniffin tru the line and all of ta sudden the dog starts hollerin near me bags. The Black feller opens me bag and starts goin tru it. He pulls out a tin, which I ain’t never seen. He opens ta tin and it’s full a white powder. He eyes me and asks, “What’s in the tin?” I looks at the wife and asks er, “What’s in the tin?” She tells me, “Tis the cookin powder. Me mum & I are gonna be makin the pies.” I looks at the feller & says, “Tis the cookin powder she says.” The feller says, “Cooking what?” I says, “You know, for the pies to bake?” He eyes me and says, “You mean this is baking powder?” “Aye!” the wife says and nods. The feller puts the tin back into the bag and lets us pass tru. I turns to the wife and says, “Now are ye tryin to get me arrested in New Yark? Why would ye take cookin powder fer Gawd’s sake?” She answers, “Tis a good thing he didn’t look in me other bag, I’ve half a pig’s head in ter!” “Oh Jeysas!” I says.”

Tim & Us

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