All good things . . .

Tuesday, Day Ten:

As things begin, so must they end . . . so true, as we find ourselves this morning full circle on our Irish adventure, enjoying our last few hours in the city before heading to the airport.
Wes and I are back at the Internet cafe (having tired of the slow recharging of the playbook, I have tossed it into the River Liffy). The lovely girl behind the counter remembered no milk/sugar for my Americano . . . that is one of the fondest memories I have gathered here - the attentiveness and kindness of the people, young and old.
I officially declare Tuesday, July 2 to be Marcus A Sheridan Day. Sandy has quietly been waiting all week to follow the footsteps of the 20th century Irish revolutionaries, and I swear he could teach a lecture at Trinity College and put those old, robed geezers to shame. I am thinking we could have made a little cash yesterday if we had put him on the Hop On/Hop Off and given him a microphone. Don't get me wrong, we all enjoyed what Dublin laid before us yesterday, but I would use the word pilgrimage in reference to Sandy's day.
Pam and Dave, comfortable on the streets here, spent the p.m. visiting the National Museum, saying hello to the Caravaggio in the Gallery, circling the Georgian doors on Merriam Square, and then strolled through the shops in search of Irish treasure.
Nancy luxuriated in the atmosphere at the National Gallery (particularly their excellent gift shop), found her way back to the fold at the Starbucks oasis (her coffee radar helped guide her there) then walked/ran with Sandy to make the tour at the historic jail (photos to follow).
Wes and I headed to the Gallery - he relaxed (code for Blackberried) while I visited with old and new friends - Renoir, Picasso (trying to get him . . . failing), Whistler, Goya, Sargent, Gainsborough, etc. I enjoyed the people in the gallery as much as the art, particularly the little ones with their gallery-packs, searching for pieces, then plopping down with their crayons and coloring.
Sandy put miles under his feet by heading out to the Barracks museum, meeting us back in the centre for coffee, then heading back out to the jail with Nancy.
We all met at O'Neil's, a charming, multi-floored pub in the centre for a beer, and shared our final "Irish" supper at San Lorenzo, an Italian restaurant - thanks to the mainland gang for making it an anniversary gift - we think we might be able to milk this 30 yr thing all the way to 31!!
So, there we have it. Our next blog will come from America - nice place to visit, but . . . It ain't Ireland!

Happy Birthday Canada!!

Monday, Day Nine:

Here we are, sipping Irish whiskey and port in the North Star Hotel bar, reliving the highs and (thanks to Wes) the lows (I mean the baaaaas) of the traveling day. We had a great day on the road from Galway to Dublin - with a side trip to the charming village of Trim.
We felt fortunate to cruise down the motorway for most of our drive. The guys have become easy with the left lane driving, and it is almost worry-free on a divided highway. We did leave the road behind when we headed off to Trim (as the pictures show). The country side was lovely, but the roads would make a half decent one-lane bike path.

Trim provided the Sheridans with the chance to consult with an expert on the subject of ancestry . . . Uh oh. Noel actually expected Wes to base his request on facts - what kind of service is that!? Anyway, the end result was a suggestion to go home and do a little more work from the Canadian end. This fell under the "nothing ventured..." heading. Noel did confirm that Cavan is the place you want to be, as did the friendly lady in the dress shop . . . "Sheridan, is it? Ah, but that's bein' a Cavan name."
Did I mention there is a very nice castle in Trim? So, trip not wasted. The castle photos below are compliments of Nancy who has been trying to get her fill of Irish architecture, but has too often ended up just catching a glimpse of a turret as her driver zips by.

Locating the North Star in Dublin was no easy feat, but after a few bridges crossed we arrived and turned our cars over to Giuseppe - the mystery remains as to whether we see them again. The hotel is located in what HGTV would refer to as a "regrowing" neighborhood. Wes' main concern last night was that Sandy would be unable to fight in his sandals and that Dave is a peace-maker. No, seriously, he will not rest until he finds himself in an Irish brawl. We may have to put him to the ground at the airport and pound the living shite out of him.
Highlight of the day for our indomitable travelers - The Bank - a fantastic bar and restaurant located in the "groovy" Temple Bar area of Dublin. (Pictures may have to wait as I am writing this Tues a.m. in an Internet Cafe while the historians travel back in time to save the rebels at the General Post Office and the playbook recharges.)
The Bank was built in the1780's - a majestic, marble-filled structure that has been authentically restored - food, not money, is the currency now served up there - and in marvelous style. Dave had his first, but definitely not last, pork belly - we may need to enlist Alex, pork belly king, to help further that journey.
So, another lovely day - we have found that if we keep our eyes and our hearts open, magic appears at unexpected moments here - the lilt in yet another "new" Irish accent, a window box spilling brilliant flowers down a stone wall, the sight of a farmer shearing his sheep, an utterly charming girl from Budapest who dropped her work to educate Pam and Dave for their Sept trip.
And still ahead? The museum, the gallery, the jail, Merriam Square . . . and just possibly, a little more magic . . . 

General Post Office

James Joyce and friends

Shots just over Sandy's head

Vault in the men's room at The Bank - odd!

Pork Belly - Dublin style

Cliffs and Cheese!

Sunday, Day Eight:

OMG.  . . And believe me, I do not say that lightly . . . actually, never. What a feckin'  marvelous day!! I have been waiting  for just the right moment to use the west Ireland version of what we consider foul language and they consider an adjective to be used at least once a sentence! I am happy to have found it in describing our best ever day that consisted of a road rally to the incomparable Cliffs of Moher AND a perfectly wonderful evening spent at the Sheridan's Cheesemongers Shop and Wine Bar.
This day, in particular, I found myself aching for my kids - wanting to share the magic.  . . Except for Jon: we all decided he is NEVER to walk the path along the the Cliffs of Moher. As we watched in fascinated horror, one foolish person after another tempted the Gods, and each time we reconnected on the path one of us said something to the effect of, "Thank God Jon is not here!"
I simply do not have the words to describe the experience of Moher. The drive to the Cliffs is an adventure of its own, and once again we owe our thanks and our well-being to Wes and Dave. Everyone talks about the stone walls and narrow roadways of Ireland, but I never imagined anything close to what we have driven on - twisting 16 ft wide roads with solid stone walls on the yellow lines - posted for 100 km/hr!! I may have learned to swear on the Zipper at age twelve, but I perfected it today on Corkscrew Hill (no exaggeration in the name!).
We may have wished for a sunny day, worried that we would not be able to appreciate the views through cloud, but honestly, the wind and the clouds that moved in and out only added to the rugged beauty. Hopefully the images below will speak for themselves.
As for the Cheesemongers, we absolutely could not have ordered a better experience. The bar was empty, and our new best friend, bar-keep Colin O'Loan, explained that Seamus Sheridan does not advertise, so Sunday night is quiet. Our great luck that Seamus apparentlyshares something of an attitude of "Screw you" with some of his Canadian cousins.  .  . No names. But if you think that shoe fits you, it probably does!! Enjoy the walk, but mind the blisters!
Colin was a wealth of conversation and information. He started us with a wine-tasting which included four whites (Italian, French, and Austrian), and three reds (all Italian). Sheridans is the exclusive seller for a Venetian dealer, and when asked about local tastes, Colin surprised us with his answer - Prosecco.
He also shared that Seamus is world-famous for the family cheeses. He recently served as a judge in NY at the world show, hosted Obama here, and has sent the store's signature crackers and other goodies to the White House. Dave was relieved to hear this. He can add a tick to the pro side of his running "Do you like my friend Barak" list.
The whites settled on a Reisling - much to their surprise. Nancy, on an educational quest yesterday that included classifying every living species at Moher (seriously, if we had lost anyone over the edge it would have been her, reaching for another wort or timothy or dandelion!), was pleased to include the Reisling to her research. For the reds, a soft, full red from the heel of Italy's boot.  . . Yum.
As for the cheese and meat board, I am (almost) embarrassed to say it fought the Cliffs as my favorite thing today.  . . just fantastic!
Colin had one final treat for us. He opened the store downstairs. Pam quietly had a moment of connection and rightness among the shelves and wares of a Sheridan run shop, and no wonder. Who knew an old space filled with sights and smells of meats and cheeses could feel like magic!
We capped off our day with a last walk through the busy pubs, stopping at McDonough's for fish and Chips. Wes got his mackerel and he and Sandy will be sneaking through customs with their contraband beer glasses!
Seriously, could a day be better? I guess we will find out.  . . Ciao.