After the previous days' butt flattening while driving the Ring of Kerry, it was time to flatten it even more with a jog. For those of you that don't know, runners have about as much butt contour as an ironing board. That is why you have to make the bubble butt by bike riding. But if your butt is being made naturally round by the eating and drinking, then you can skip the healthy way of making a bubble butt - biking. This is why it is entirely unnecessary to carry a bicycle around with you when you travel.
What better place to jog than around the grounds of the Muckross House? We banged around the grounds the previous afternoon right after our visit to the Torc Falls. That visit involved dodging desperate Irish coach drivers who really, really wanted to take us on a coach ride. It also involved me jumping off of the path to avoid getting run over by the lucky few who had made the sale. That guy was probably angry at me for not taking him up on his tenth offer to "take the pretty lady on a carriage ride."
So, the goal was to jog Muckross House early when there was nobody but myself, my wife and the trout in the lake. If you look at the bottom picture on the far right you will notice a little bit of a forested area. This area holds a bit of trail along the lake. All I could hear was my nimble foot fall, my steady breathing and the lapping of the lake on the shore. Oh yeah, my wife was there too. Ladies, I make an excellent traveling companion!
The Muckross Park Hotel & Cloisters Spa offered a free breakfast. Most of our hotel stays did not, so it was time to take full advantage. In general, you shouldn't offer free food and drink to a guy who grew up hungry. That's right ... if it's free food, I'll eat until I look like that fat German kid who blew up in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
If it is free drink, then you are probably in for the hot mess that I sometimes refer to as Gary. Gary is the life of the party and has been known to make appearances at football parties, weddings, on linoleum kitchen floors and Tuesdays. He also prays for world peace, enjoys romantic walks along the beach and hopes to one day "blow up" a bar mitzvah with his beer bong skills. Gary isn't writing this blog, and he made no appearances in Ireland. In fact, my wife hasn't had to defend herself against the brash advances of Garry for a while. She's probably due. As usual, I digress.
If you go to Ireland (you should) there are a couple of things you should order. The first is tea. It was during this free breakfast that I discovered "tea". Tea is not just the beverage. It also means frosted pastries, toast with marmalade and other assorted, sugary goodies If you put enough of that yummy brownish sugar into your tea, you can inject it straight into your veins. Ah, sweet sucra...
You can never go wrong with sugar, and yes, I was recently caught by a waitress while eating sugar out of a packet at Outback. Don't judge me! I'm not proud.
The second is brown bread. Get this with some chowder. Brown bread is a heavy bread that is ... well ... its brown. It is about as dense as a brick, and it is served cold with butter. Warm soup and cold bread works good in most situations. After a couple of days in the "Land of Drizzle", you'll want to keep coming back to the warm foods. That is why the cold bread thing to me is simply inexplicable. It is what it is. Don't complain.
One thing that you can order if you want to get a taste of some cuisine that is traditionally Irish is black pudding.
Black pudding is basically oatmeal mixed with spices, garlic, piggy meat bits and (oh, yeah) pig blood. Ummmm ... yummy pig blood. Look at the picture. Now that you know the black is pig blood, doesn't the picture remind you of two moist scabs? Fortunately, it doesn't taste too bad but the oatmeal gives it a gummy texture that wants to create a piggy oatmeal ball in the back of the throat. Eat this once, and then turn your back on it ... forever.
Having loaded up with piggy products and tea, it was time to get an interior view of the Muckross House. The estate is 11,000 acres by the way. That lake you see in the picture is huge. Killarney is kissed by a couple of lakes, and this is just one of them. The Muckross House was built in 1843 by the Herbert family. After extensive improvements for the visit of Queen Victoria in 1861, the Herberts had to sell the estate. Ultimately, it was sold to a wealthy American (U.S.A.!!!) and that guy spoiled his daughter rotten by giving it to her as a wedding gift. It is now owned by the Republic of Ireland.
So, let's pause to reflect. These knuckleheads so want to impress the Queen that they run themselves into bankruptcy in order to do it. The docent tried to explain this bit of foolishness as an effort to gain the grant of a better title for the Herberts. Maybe that is meaningful to the European sensibility, but it gets a "Yeah, so what?" from me. We can (any of us) insist that we be called "Earl", "Duke" or "Contessa" if we want to be that crazy. I called myself "His Lordship" all day today, and it didn't make me more wealthy or pay down a debt. It never worked out for Herbert anyway because Queen Victoria would later die with nary a thought about making right with Mr. Herbert. Sucker! All things work out for the best. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been invited to enter Muckross House but for its ultimate ownership by the park service.
A couple of observations from the tour. As you ascend the steps from first floor to second you notice a large pane of glass. But the glass isn't clear, it is kind of opaque - decorated lovely but opaque. Well, apparently, you didn't want your view ruined by the sight of a servant milling about outside or, even worse, a view of their neatly kept quarters. Bad enough that you have to deal with the servants inside the House, but to look outside and have to observe their homes? This is an outrage that can only be corrected by opaque glass!
After the tour, we went to Muckross Abbey. We discovered this during our jog when I was navigating a back way to the hotel. It was built in 1448 and remains remarkably intact. Apparently, one Franciscan thing was to grow a yew tree in the middle of the abbey. I think it is a nice touch and the thing is still there even after the abbey is gone. The friary in town retains the skull of one of the poor friars who was caught on one of the islands on the lake you see in the background of the second picture. Well, no surprise, his head left his body with the aid of some British guys and ended up being displayed in glass box. This marks the second head of a saint I've seen since coming to this country.
Anyway, it was time to go to Killarney and look about.
I must admit that I could start to sense some kind of anxiety forming in my wife. Something is brewing with my expert shopper. Immediately, I diagnose the problem. There are children at home (seven to be precise) that we have had the audacity to create (I'm that irresistible) and they must be satisfied. Unfortunately, that meant shopping in Killarney.
To shorten my rant up a bit, I spent a lot of time outside on the sidewalk trying really hard to not look really bored. Can nothing be done about this? Why settle for buying total crap just because we need to produce some bauble or other such foolishness to the expectant children? I have lobbied for Travel Shopping Rule #2, and it is still being considered in committee.
Travel Shopping Rule #2???? - That's right. No buying stuff just for the sake of buying stuff. It has to be meaningful. To date I'm a "Yea" vote for Travel Shopping Rule #2 but only if the companion bill which legislates Travel Shopping Rule #3 is likewise passed. Travel Shopping Rule #3 ensures that all purchases must be REASONABLE IN PRICE!!!!!
The boys all got hurling balls. These look like baseballs but they are lighter. This is an acceptable purchase in that it satisfies Rule #1 - that all gifts must actually be Irish in origin. I suspect it would fail Travel Shopping Rule #2, but (as noted above) this has not yet been made into law.
And yes, the boys lost their hurling balls within about five minutes. Duh!!! My offer to appease the collective greedy expectancy of our male children was to purchase a rugby ball. However, I was informed that if we got the rugby ball, it was insufficient because it would constitute a "group gift" and would not satisfy the individualized greed of each child. Fearing that my wife would be oversold on the rugby ball, I left off. To continue would mean that I would have to buy the hurling balls AND the rugby ball. I tried to do the whole trade thing where we swap balls simultaneously but the wife wasn't letting go of those hurling balls.
*** Men, you may stop reading for a moment and make a testicle related joke quietly to yourself.
Oh, yeah. Back to shopping. You have to sense when you are digging yourself a hole and back the hell out of it. Hurling balls it is. We also bought them candy because my kids are always suckers for candy. And it's Irish candy. How exotic!
When I was a child, my grandparents were world travelers. My female cousins received dolls from all around the world. There were glass cabinets at their house that had no other purpose than to display these dolls. My brother and I received tube socks for Christmas. Not kidding about that. However, I'm beginning to understand (not really - that was total bullsh*t). I think they just couldn't strike an appropriate balance in deciding upon which ethnic sporting gear to purchase. And that is why we got tube socks for Christmas. After all, what sporting endeavor is complete without tube socks? I would have really loved to have a hurling ball.
My dairy loving friends, Killarney offers you the world's best ice cream. Murphy's Ice Cream http://www.murphysicecream.ie/ creates their icy dessert from the milk of the endangered Kerry Cow. There are only about 1,000 Kerry Cows, and that makes them more rare than the Giant Panda. That's right, its like they milked pandas and made ice cream out of it. Here's my wife's frozen treat.
I don't know how to give this justice by description. Start with the world's most awesome cow. Feed that cow only sugar cubes - no exceptions - when it is about to die from being fed too much sugar, feed it one more time and milk it. Milk that cow of every last drop (stand on the utters if you must) because it is probably going to die. I wonder if this is why they are endangered? Then I guess you just add the skills of some Irish dudes blah, blah, blah and you get the best ice cream I've ever had.
While driving about, I noticed a sign right by the "petrol" station that indicated a castle. Ross Castle to be exact.
Like all things Killarney, Ross Castle is right there on a lake. A very large lake. Not remotely like how her Viking ancestors would have, Fighting Fitzgerald climbed the battlements for a picture. To the viewer it appears as though her arms are outstretched as a metaphor for how we've embraced Ireland. You were thinking that, right?
However, she is just trying to retain her place and not slip back down to the grass. She struggled a bit with this. Notice how happy she is. This means that, for the moment, I have not annoyed her with a snarky comment about hurling balls or ball related jokes in general.
And this closed out our day in Killarney. All that is left is an afternoon in Dublin and then home. This will be followed up by another twenty three years of marriage without a trip overseas.
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