Ireland: Days 5 & 6...

A few quick orders of business before I jump into Irish anecdotes - a couple "shout-outs" if you don't mind:

1. Happy birthday, America!!! It sure is strange to be sitting in the country from which you broke over 236 years ago. It is also bizarre to think that I will be back on your soil in only 5 short days. Living in England has had its perks (beautiful architecture, incredible history), but it has also taught me to appreciate you more. Your freedom is unrivaled. Your conveniences, unparalleled. I can't wait to glimpse your beautiful spacious skies and amber waves of grain. May God continue to shed His grace on thee.

2. Dear Harriet's Tea Room, thanks for the free tea and carrot cake this afternoon. Sure, you were kind of forced to give our entire table the royal treatment after we discovered a dead bug on our plate, but still... By UK standards, you went above and beyond the customary level of service by handling the situation in a logical and satisfying manner. So thanks for that.

3. Readers, I have a confession to make. Somehow, I messed up the chronology of events concerning our time in Ireland. Perhaps I spread the Dingle/Doolin portion out too far. Really I don't know. Either way, the final Ireland posts will cover the Giants Causeway, Belfast, and Dublin. The Causeway technically should have been day four, but I'd venture to guess that you don't really care about the timeline. On that assumption, let's wrap up Ireland!

While we drove a grand total of almost 1,600km, we only had one close call with another vehicle. This lovely truck and trailer (or "caravan," as the Brits call it) decided to merge into our lane and side-swipe our mirror. Luckily, the mirror only bent on its hinge, and it wasn't a big deal to snap it back in place. I tried documenting the offending driver's license plate, but to no avail. There was no license plate. Of course.

Transitioning to Northern Ireland from the Republic of Ireland was only noticeable when we came to this first small village. There were jubilee banners and flags everywhere. I thought that there would have been a sign delineating the dividing boundary, but if we hadn't been paying close attention, we would not have been the wiser. Another difference between the two was that the speed limit signs changed from km/h to mph.

After our longest stint in the car (around 6 straight hours), we arrived at the Giants Causeway. Legend has it that an Irishman (Finn McCool) was being taunted by a Scottish giant who wanted to fight him. Finn started building a path across the water toward Scotland in order to meet his adversary. However, Finn got a little scared when he heard how large the giant was. So, Finn dressed himself up like a baby and waited for the Scotsman to come find him. When the giant came across the causeway and saw Finn, he thought, "If this is my enemy's baby son, then my enemy must be gigantic!" And he retreated all the way back to Scotland, destroying the remainder of the causeway as he ran.

Some of the stones are as tall as a man, and scientists are still unsure as to why they have formed in such uniform shapes. One theory is that the lava from the volcanic activity which established the islands cooled rapidly, leaving cracks in the dried earth, similar to the way mud dries in a distinct pattern.

Whatever happened, it is an impressive and mystifying place.

Once again, the weather cooperated by the time we wanted to get out of the car, and we happily enjoyed the sunshine while exploring.

Here's a better view of the shape of the stones. Like an enormous honeycomb.

Recall how I said in my previous post that we extensively employed the self-timer? Well, the following photos are the best of the self-timed series. We started out sitting calmly...

...then progressed to being silly...

...and then decided we should try some jumping pics.

Each jump brought us closer to propelling ourselves at the exact moment when the shutter snapped. I think this landing was the one in which Matthew smashed his ankle. No permanent harm done.

We waited a millisecond too long for our take-off on this attempt.

And in the end, this was as good as it got.

Our impromptu photo-shoot wrapped (much to the disappointment of some amused onlookers), and we drove on to Belfast. We were already an hour and a half down the road at our (crap) hostel in Belfast before I realized that we had forgotten to stop at the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge.

This Indiana Jones style tourist attraction is right around the corner from the Causeway, and it had been one of the items on my ideal Ireland agenda. Unfortunately, we missed it entirely. Overlooked it. I kept telling myself that it would have been closed due to bad weather or maintenance or something, just so I wouldn't feel as bad for being such a nincompoop. But I suppose that means I have a reason to return to Ireland someday. Unfinished business. I'll get over it.

The wonder invoked by the Giants Causeway was soon replaced by the severity of Belfast. It was probably the top one most grim city in the first world. I would easily have believed that I was on the wrong side of the Iron Curtain during the Cold War, instead of in a modern day urban portion of the United Kingdom. I'll type more about it as soon as possible. But for now, I need to dream of cookouts and fireworks. Someone eat a hotdog and light a sparkler on my behalf, would ya?