Some thoughts and memories and reflections on the Kelly family trip to Ireland and Scotland:
Why do I keep waking up every night with the strange feeling that I am still sleeping in a strange foreign bed, in someone else's guesthouse, with a ferry to catch in the morning, with the boys in another room on another floor in the house, with other tourists living in the house, with a big Irish or Scottish breakfast awaiting my order? I still don't know where exactly I am a whole week after returning home!
If you had to guess the most obvious famous British woman we met at a nice upstairs bakery restaurant of a gourmet shop in Oban, Scotland on an extremely wet, rainy Saturday after our ferry ride from the Isle of Mull, who would it be? I saw her as I sat down, nudged Rebecca and she nodded yes. And after passing her on the stairs I said to Nic, "Did you...? and he immediately said, "Yes!"
Give up?
It was so obviously her. It was so perfectly her. She misplaced her umbrella and her dining mate said to me, "I would of course lose an umbrella when it's raining."
I had a little bit of fun with our waiter, who was from Spain, and didn't know who she was aside from the role in Casino Royale. "Oh, she's really famous in America for her leading role in the '70s TV show The Partridge Family." I told him he should mention that to his buzzing British co-workers who were abuzz with serving such a star. Tell them something they don't know.
We caught a cute scene on a rainy street in Tobermory, Scotland, right after we rented four sets of golf clubs at the local hardware store for our first and only spectacular golf outing in Scotland. We aren't golfers at all, but we figured it would be a great way to hike and take in some spectacular scenery. Amazingly the plan worked!
Here's the scene:
A little boy, probably around 4, is walking beside his dad who is pushing a stroller with a baby. The little boy is wearing a rain jacket and a pair of green Wellies. He says, "Dad? Why am I wearing my green Wellies?"
The kindly dad replies, "Well, it's raining son. And besides...you love to wear your green Wellies all the time."
And the little boy remarks: "Ahhh, but that's true." And stomps in a puddle.
Free spirited are the Irish. Nary a care. We stayed at a beautiful B and B, a country house that looked out over the ocean bay and a long strand of beach on the north side of the Dingle Peninsula. We could see the ocean, and see that it was just a few minutes walk away. But how to get there? There was a 2 lane narrow road with often speeding traffic and no shoulder. And there were cow pastures between the road and the beach and water. As the sun was setting, and we had just arrived, we stepped outside to take in a walk on the beach, but couldn't decide whether to drive or walk to the beach. The innkeeper, a very lovely woman, said we should walk to the nearby dirt road used by the farmer and his cows. How far is that? I asked. "Down the road on the right, about a 10 minute walk."
Ten minutes? On that narrow road with the speeding cars, and fading light, and occasional cow with a herding farmer on a bike? Really? We should walk it?
"You'll be grand!"
That was our response to everything for the rest of trip. No matter how dangerous or stressful or calamitous the situation. No matter if you are perched on a cliff with rocks and crashing waves and death just inches away. No matter how distasteful the food looks.
You'll be grand!
We drove the car to the dirt road to the beach. And we actually were grand.
Sometimes it was hard to understand what people were saying. I'm talking about my Irish brethren. And sometimes they didn't know what they were saying to each other.
In asking for recommendations for dinner, we were told to check out the nearby place in Stradbally. It sounded like we were told to go to "Commotions." The only place to eat in Stradbally was a place with a sign that said, "Tomasins." Actually the T could've been a C. Or a G. It was written in that old timey Irish way.
When we wanted to go to lunch and were asking for recommendations, we were told by another person to go to "The Marshes." In Stradbally. Again, the only restaurant in Stradbally was Tomasins.
Otherwise known as Commotions.
Or The Marshes.
What ever you call it, it was really good. We went there twice.
When asked where we went to dinner the night previous, I pointed and said, "Down the road."
And at the same time, the two women said simultaneously,
"Commotions?" "The Marshes?"
I nodded yes and pointed down the road.
I like doughnuts.
