Still to finish

Jet lag has taken its toll and the Ireland, Paris and Singapore posts have been delayed. 


Still planning on adding them in so please don't think this is finished yet. 
Cheers, M

12th April 2011: Ireland Day Twenty-Six.

Up and off at a reasonable hour this morning and decided to head over to county Waterford to have a look around. Again, the countryside is lush and we now can post a few photos as Dominique has kindly sent some through to us (see next few posts), which she took from her camera.

We did a little bit of shopping along the way to the Mahon Falls which was a place we were told would be of interest. I can tell you the walk from the car park to the falls was about one kilometre and we didn’t make it all the way. The weather had turned a little on us and the wind was biting the whole way. I think we stood within sight of the falls, said something like, “yep, there they are…..ok, seem em, lets get back to the car…” Not a complaint amongst us, very happy to get back to the car and some warmth.

We toured around for the rest of the day and then headed back to Clonmel stocked up with food and wine for the next few days. We will be leaving for the north tomorrow and making our way around the west coast to Galway.

11th April 2011: Ireland Day Twenty-Five.

This afternoon our fellow travelling partner, Dominique who has been visiting her Niece in Switzerland, will rejoin us. So this morning Michelle and I have decided to do a little exploring of the South part of Ireland in the Killarney area before collecting her from Cork airport.

Michelle and I have discovered our optimum travelling positions, Michelle drives and I navigate. Seems that there is less stress for all concerned when we assume these roles. It was a cool morning but the drive was spectacular, the narrow country roads are just the way to get a good feel for Ireland.

About an hour into our drive, we pull up at a little café in Fermoy and pick up a cup of coffee each. The owners of the café are very friendly and ask us where we’re heading. When we said “Killarney” they recommend that we give it a miss. Apparently, it’s where all the American tourists go and there really isn’t much to see. Michelle and I are happy to change our plans and visit Lismore that the café owners said would be more to our liking.

Lismore is a quaint little town with an ancient castle that is accompanied by acres of magnificent gardens. We pretty much had the place to ourselves and spent a good two hours wandering around and admiring the extensive gardens, quite spectacular. We decided to move on to Blarney to have a look around there and visit the castle and maybe even kiss the stone.

Blarney is on the north west side of Cork and is a busy little place in it’s own right. We had some trouble locating the castle as it isn’t very well posted, no real directions of where to go to find it. In the end, we parked the car and wandered around town to see if we could find it on foot.

As we walked around town still unable to locate a signpost or a remote hint of where the castle might be, we started to wonder if it was actually existed.  Maybe this was one of those Irish jokes they liked to play on everyone, “come to Blarney to see the castle and kiss the stone, you’ll have the time of your life…” Thousands of tourists wandering around their town bumping into each other and asking, “do you know where the castle is?” the locals, sitting in their pubs laughing at all the “idiots” whilst they enjoyed a nice pint of Guinness. It didn’t help when I said to Michelle, “there you go….” and pointed at a sign that announced “The Blarney Castle Hotel” “nobody said anything about it being an actual castle, its really a pub”

Eventually, we came across a small sign indicating the way and we discovered that there is actually a castle, much to our relief. Climbing the 100 odd stairs to the top was an experience in itself, it was pretty cold and the stairs very uneven and narrow. It can be a little hairy as well for people who don’t particularly like heights but the views are spectacular.

When we reached the top, an attendant said, “right then, who’s game enough to kiss the stone?” I had a quick look and decided I didn’t particularly want to lay down on my back, haul myself out a few feet over the edge of the castle, have someone I have never met before keep me safe by holding my ankles and kiss something that is over 400 years old. “Not today sir, thank you very much” I guess some people would be surprised that we would go to so much effort to get there and then not go that extra distance to kiss the stone………..I think I can speak for both of us when I say, we aren’t disappointed.

We left Blarney behind and drove into Cork to collect Dominique and then head back to Clonmel, it was great to see her again and she was full of stories about her short trip to Switzerland.

We have decided to extend our stay with Tina and Jim for another night as we are having way too much fun here.

10th April 2011: Ireland Day Twenty-Four.

The local Church is a short drive into the countryside, its part of a small country community and has a very relaxed feel about it. In the car on the way there, I saw a sign that said, “Tipperary 15 Km” and thought to myself “that war song is a complete exaggeration, it’s not that far at all…”

I haven’t been to a Sunday Mass for about twenty years and I surprised even myself that I can recall all of the prayers and various segments of the service. I guess it must be like riding a bike or was it all those Presentation Nuns (Primary School) and Christian Brothers (Secondary School) who very diligently “taught” me all I needed to know about the Mass service.

I think the later probably true because at one point, about three quarters of the way through the service, I jumped at a certain part of the Mass. In grade six, Sister Rita and I were hardly the best of friends and she would invariably catch me daydreaming or fooling around during Friday Mass. She had a very effective way of getting your attention, a fist in the back, which was delivered with such force it, could knock the wind out of you if you weren’t expecting it. Anyway, that’s when I jumped during the service, totally involuntary and caused me to look around to see if Sister Rita was in actual fact behind me……thankfully she wasn’t. Anyway, I digress…..

The church grounds were something else, you could take a short stroll along a bush path alongside a small creek that lead to a resting area near a waterfall. People sat around with their families and took in the lovely countryside and quietly watched the waterfall and generally connected with nature. Never been to a Church like that before, quite an experience and very calming.

The afternoon was very, very special…..I got to go to my very first hurling game. I’ve never seen anything like it before and let me tell you, this is no sport for the feint at heart.

For the uninitiated, this game is a cross between lacrosse and hockey with a touch of physical contact. There are 15 players a side on a ground that is approximately the size of a soccer field. Each player carries a “stick” which closely resembles a hockey stick but is flat at the end. The flatness of the stick is required to hit a ball (about the weight and hardness of a cricket ball) from one end of the ground to the other. The object of the game is to put the ball into the goal area either by hitting it into the net (something like a soccer goal area – 3 points) or hitting it over the goal area between 2 extended posts (like football goal posts – 1 point).

In general play, it appears that the rules are, there are no rules. The ball can be hit down the ground and packs form (very similar to Aussie rules) where the ball can be caught (yeah right) or a player with their stick can belt it. I was witness to several players who attempted to “catch” the ball in these circumstances and I’m sure given their time again, they would have opted for the much safer option of swinging their stick at it mid air. Players generally pick the ball up off the ground by using the stick to flip it into the air and then either run with it on the flat part of the stick, hit it between their hand and the stick, wait until the opposition are really, really close and then belt it as hard as they can down the field (too bad if it hits the oncoming player) or throw it to a team mate.

In a situation where the ball is in dispute, bodies do clash, sticks do smash together, desperate efforts are made to clear the ball either by picking it up (yeah right), kicking it clear of the pack or hitting it with the stick. It’s two 30-minute halves of fast paced physical contest and excitement.

It very much reminded me of Aussie rules during the 60’s and 70’s when it was suburb against suburb and very tribal. If you are born in Kilkenny, then you can only ever play for Kilkenny…..no transfers to other teams or moving to another County, you play for Kilkenny or not at all. And it remains completely amateur, the players aren’t paid.

I’m hooked!!! I have plans to catch another game before I leave, it’s a beauty!

9th April 2011: Ireland Day Twenty-Three.

Michelle was happy to stay with our hosts whilst I drove back into Clonmel town centre this morning to try and get in touch with my Irish roots. For some time now I have had some pretty big expectations about how I might feel when I got here and without any sort of agenda, I wanted to soak it all up and see where that led me.

It was good to walk the streets and listen to the chatter of the people and I am constantly surprised by their friendliness. Everyone I pass greets me with a “hello” or at the very least a nod of the head. People are only too willing to take time out of their day to give me directions and then ask me where I’m from and engage in general banter about Australia and in turn Ireland.

I’m looking a little scruffy (as my Mum might say) as I’m well overdue for a haircut and I see that there is a local barber who has a full house. Whenever I find myself in unfamiliar surroundings I have a creed I go by and that is, “do whatever the locals are doing” I guess its not really that original because its very close to “when in Rome….” but it has served me well and I forgive myself for a mild case of plagiarism. Anyway, I decided that this was the place for me to clean myself up.

Sean, who cut my hair, was a character right from the start. He cautiously and very politely asked me if I was from New Zealand or Australia and when I answered Australia, he smiled and did a very funny imitation of Skippy (as in Skippy the Bush Kangaroo) and hopped around the shop (much to the amusement of all the local customers).

This, I believe, is what the Irish call “taking the craic” and I was more than happy for him to do so. Happy because it was very funny and I’m always up for a laugh but also because Ireland at this point in time is not the happiest place to be for the Irish. Whilst waiting for my hair cut I was reading the Irish Times and the lead story was about the loss of 6 Billion Euros in their Pension Funds during the Global Financial Crisis and the fact that they may need to extend their retirement age to 75….75!!!!!!

Sean talked about the loss of their talented and educated youth to countries abroad (Australia was prominent) as employment has become a big issue here and generally about the difficulties of “providing for our families” After talking to Sean, I got a completely different perspective about what is hardship and what is inconvenient, we in Australia are very, very lucky.

Sean wasn’t seeking sympathy, most of what he had to say was mixed with humour and a broad smile but the message was clear…..Ireland is hurting. He didn’t dwell on the difficult stuff for very long, more interested in whether I had caught up with Gaelic Football or Hurling and if we intended to visit several local places of interest, always with a kind word of advice about where we should probably go.

For 10 Euros, I received a very nice haircut (Sean said he had very little to work with and was embarrassed and apologised for the excessive charge) and a first hand education about the Irish way of life. Can’t help but love em.

Walking away from the barbers and laughing at my new best friends quips, I came across a Bookies shop. Gee, I have to at least have a look in here, Grandpa Rhynehart and Grandpa Doyle would have demanded it!! Would you believe, its Grand National day in England (its probably the equivalent of Melbourne Cup day in Melbourne) and I didn’t even realise!!

Ok, how am I going to get a bet on for the race? There’s no marking a box or colouring in squares…….you write your horse’s name, the amount you want to bet and Bobs your uncle. I tentatively approach the counter and handed the slip to the lady and said, “this is my first bet in Ireland….how did I do?” she said, “you did just fine young man…..” young man????!!!! You have to love the Irish.

I picked up some supplies before heading back to Tina and Jims and when I got there they said, “Do you know what’s happening today?” to which I responded, “yes, Grand National day and I’ve had a bet” These people don’t need much to have a celebration and it isn’t long before the champagne is out and a dozen or so hats are handed around and the TV turned on for the big race.

Four kilometres, something like 27 fences and 40 horses all amounts to a rough and tumble affair. My horse, Vic Venturi, hurdles the second fence but cant hurdle the 3 fallen horses in front of it and I’m already out!!!  Oh well, it was nice whilst it lasted.

The afternoon was whittled away with a bit of a country stroll and a quiet Guinness in the local pub and then a pretty early night. Tomorrow’s Sunday and I have to go to church…….hope it doesn’t fall down when I walk in.

8th April 2011: Barcelona/Ireland Day Twenty-Two.

Before I get started, we have made some changes to the Blog site and it should be easier to leave comments.

Our last day here!!

We had a quiet day getting ready for our flight to Ireland and I’m now ready to move on. It’s fair to say that Barcelona didn’t offer up her best week to me during our stay nor did Barcelona see me at my best. Lets just say that I will be back to give her a second chance some day.

Managed to get on the Internet at the airport and discovered the Pies have beaten the archenemy Carlton. That’s 3 straight wins from 3 outings, not a bad way to kick off the season.

Unfortunately, Michelle’s camera has died on us and I don’t have any photo’s to put in the blog for the moment so you will just have to rely on my writing to get the picture.

The flight to Cork is about two and a half hours and we have got our woollies out ready…..just in case (or as they say here, to be sure, to be sure). “Stephen James Rhynehart…” said the man at the border booth at Cork airport, “and what would yer be visiting Ireland for Stephen?” I told him it was a lifetime ambition and I was here on a holiday. “Well, welcome to Ireland” he said “and I hope yer stay is a most enjoyable and relaxing one….”

They really are friendly people and that’s evident from the moment you step off the plane. We have decided to hire a car and do the trip around Ireland by driving ourselves. The first place we head for is Michelle’s friends Tina and Jim who have very kindly offered to put us up for a few nights before we head off on our drive up the west coast.

Tina and Jim live in a little village called Clonmel, which is to the south and is about a two-hour drive from Cork airport. Its late afternoon and the main thing Michelle and I noticed is the greenness of Ireland, after a few years of drought in Australia it’s a welcoming sight.

We don’t have complete directions to Tina and Jim’s place so we have to stop off in the town centre of Clonmel to ring them and get specifics. Hmmmm, I spied a pub not far from where we have parked the car and I’m keen to try a pint of their Guinness as everyone I’ve ever met has said, “you haven’t had a real pint of Guinness until you’ve had one in Ireland…” Let me tell you, they have all been right.

With directions in hand, it’s a 15-minute drive to Tina and Jim’s and we receive a right royal welcome from them. Their place is the last property in a quiet narrow lane and is basically farmland all around with uninterrupted views to the hills behind them. It’s late and we are tired but its hard not to marvel at their beautiful garden and the back drop of the hills.

I have decided that I will get up in the morning and go into the town centre alone so I can get a feel for the place.

7th April 2011: Barcelona Day Twenty-One.

Hmmmm, not up as early as we should be (mainly because of me) and we are off on our trek to Montserrat just a little late.

Michelle’s homework is proving very accurate and we are able to link up our transport in precision like fashion. The link between the metropolitan train and our country train proved a little testing but we stuck to the instructions and found our way to where we should be.

The trip out of Barcelona to Montserrat was very easy and we marvelled at the rock structure as we drew closer to the Monastery. We arrived just in time to have an initial look around and then head into the church to hear the boys choir sing for a ten-minute period. They do this every day and I have to say they were perfect.

The acoustics of the church complimented their trained voices delivering something very special….I wished my Mum was with us….she would have really enjoyed it. After the choir, we strolled the grounds and moved away from the large crowds that had gathered in the main tourist areas.

It didn’t take long to find a nice quiet place to sit and eat our lunch and it was impossible not to relax listening to the nearby waterfall and the active wildlife around us.

Everything about this place has a sense of calmness and peace, the kind you can spend your whole life trying to find. The Church seemed like just the place for us to light some candles and so with thoughts of Andrew, Gabriel and my Dad in mind, we placed three candles together in a section of their own. It felt good and right to do this and remember them in this place.

Michelle and I agreed that it was a place we would both like to revisit one day. We made the trip back to Barcelona late afternoon and visited the Parc Guell. It was a relaxing way to end our day but I must admit to discovering that the public transport system here is not something I am falling in love with.