Daily Photo

A cemetery overlooking the countryside at the Rock of Cashel, Ireland.

View LARGE On Black and stop by and checkout some other photos on my Flickr Photostream.

Photo by CJ Kern – Feel free to use images with links and credit – no commercial use without permission.

Daily Photo

The ruins of the Cathedral at the Rock of Cashel, Ireland. The Cathedral was built between 1235 and 1270.

View Large On Black and stop by and checkout some other photos on my Flickr Photostream.

Photo by CJ Kern – Feel free to use images with links and credit – no commercial use without permission.

September 19, 2009

“Accelerate to 88 kilometers per hour!”
                 -Andy

We woke up in the hostel in Cashel, which is a pretty small town, and checked out. We strolled down the street to the bake shop for pastries, and I had my usual orange juice; Andy had his usual coffee (nasty habit). The hostel lady told us to move the car by 9:30 so we went back to move it to the rock where we were headed. But someone had painted some sort of black stripe down the side of it! It was pretty stressful. We tried to wipe it off with one of Andy’s old socks but it didn’t really work.

There wasn’t anything to do about it so we just tried not to worry until the time came. The Rock of Cashel was nothing like the Stone of Turoe (which is what we were expecting.) It was actually a giant hill on which was built a settlement in the 400s. It was very interesting because there were three buildings right next to each other: a round tower, a chapel, and a Cathedral that was built in between the two. It was built close enough to the other buildings that the design had to be modified quite a bit: windows were moved and the long and short ends were switched from their usual design. We took a lot of pictures and took the tour, which I listened to intently but Andy mostly ignored.

The Rock of Cashel

There was also a small museum and an A/V presentation and we took our time and let it all sink in.

We decided at this point that we wanted to get the car handled and stay at a hotel near the airport in Dublin this night , so we had better be on our way. We headed in that direction but wanted to stop for at least one more thing and it’s lucky we did.

We drove along the sometimes-highway sometimes-motorway. It wasn’t very stressful since we had plenty of time and it was the nicest highway we had been on. The only interesting thing that happened during the drive was we were held up by the National Ploughing Championships in a little town called Abbeyleix. The traffic for the championships was kind of brutal, but we listened to Irish radio and stuck it out. We found the whole thing very cute.

The place we ended up stopping was called Kildare. On the map it was marked as “Kildare Round Tower.” We pulled up to the Tower and Cathedral but there was no one around. We walked around not knowing what to do. There was a car parked in the parking lot, though, and a women got out and told us that the person who runs the tower was at lunch and would be along shortly. She also was working in the Cathedral that day as the curator has Saturdays off. When the man arrived, he opened the Cathedral and we went in.

It was a lot like the other Cathedrals we had seen except this one was dedicated to St. Brigid, who apparently founded the church, the town, and was ordained a bishop “accidentally” even though she was a woman. Her story was fun and inspiring. The lady at the church talked to us about Obama and what we had done in Ireland and our ancestry. She was very sweet.

We were excited to be able to go up in the round tower. We had seen 3 or 4 in our travels but hadn’t been allowed to go inside any of them. The guide told us that this was only one of two where it was allowed. We had to climb 7 14 foot ladders to get to the top, and it was a very tight space. The view was magnificent and I fully recommend doing it if you can handle the enclosed spaces on the way up. The guide sent us to a museum in town where we watched another A/V presentation, this one hosted by a ghost who knew St. Brigid. It was cute and quirky.

Climbing the Round Tower

At this point, we were pretty worn out. We headed back to Dan Dooley car rentals to turn in the car. The only thing was: the stripe. I was pretty worried about this. Andy was worried too that I would end up paying the €1000 deductible, which is a whole lot.

The woman at the counter wasn’t sure if I would have to. She did successfully identify the cause of the mark: black magic marker. Then she called over the person who gets the cars ready for rental to see if he could remove it. He said the only thing he knew to try would be petrol. He brought some over and started wiping and it was coming off! I was saved! The attendant said “Thomas, you are a great man.” And I said “Yes, Thomas, you are a great man indeed!” and he blushed and said he wasn’t. But he totally was.

After we turned in the car, we went to the airport to try to find a hotel to stay at. We picked up the red courtesy phones but we could only find one hotel with vacancies, and they were charging an arm and a leg! Apparently, the all-Ireland football finals were that weekend in Dublin, and everything was booked up. This is like their Superbowl and we had been hearing about it all week. We considered ourselves lucky to find a vacancy and paid the rate, taking the hotel shuttle.

We hung out in the hotel bar for a few hours and watched football and wondered if we might meet some people, but we didn’t. There was a wedding at the hotel and Andy kept ribbing me about bridesmaids while we drank our cider but none of them ever really emerged. We watched Casino Royale in our hotel room and went to sleep.

I won’t write about the last day, a travel day, except to say that we saw a motorcycle accident just outside our hotel as we were waiting for the shuttle. That was the only eventful thing that happened. Oh, and Andy calculated the number of pictures we had taken and the number taken on each particular day. The total came out to around 940, which you can divide by 8 to get the per-day total. Most of them were on his camera.

You’ve seen some of them in these blog posts but you can see the best of our Ireland pictures (pared down to about 400ish) on Google Photo.

Here is a map of where we went on this our eighth day:

View Larger Map

Finalmente ad un anno di distanza dal magnifico viaggio nella verdissima isola, decido di metter in rete il diario di questa motovacanza !

Fuori dalle classiche rotte mototuristiche europee come possono essere la Francia, la Spagna o l’inflazionato Nordkapp, questa terra viene ingiustamente trascurata dai viaggiatori su due ruote, soprattutto italiani.

Anche questo viaggio ci ha dato moltissimo. Ci ha stupito la cordialità e l’amicizia della gente. Ci avevano avvertito, ma è ancora meglio di quanto uno possa aspettarsi.

Se avete piacere di leggere tutto il diario :
“Quando il verde ti entra nell’anima”

Al termine del Diario ho inserito info utili ed i contatti dei B&B dove abbiamo alloggiato…

Se preferite  scaricare la versione pdf :

Eire 2008 – Quando il verde ti entra nell’anima

Altre foto del viaggio QUI

Ireland 2007–Cashel

Brian Boru, and his grandson were some of the early Munster kings that ruled from here. But his grandson gave the castle over to the Bishop of Limerick. This began the long ecclesiastical history of the castle. There was an enclosed museum, which had some religious artifacts, pennannular brooches, and stonework that had been moved in to preserve them.

Another chapel (I don’t know the actual religious names for these different buildings) was redone with a wooden roof (no nails) and plant made pigments painted on the gothic arches and angels that decorated the room. Most castles and churches had wooden roofs as the technique for making the corbelled (or other) stone roofs was complicated and put a lot of weight on the walls. Throughout these buildings there are many square holes in the walls. These are post holes, for floors and stairs. It makes one realize how drafty these stone places would have been.

The town itself was fairly small and we were hardpressed to find a place to eat that night, but ate at the Town Hall, a higher end and very good restaurant. It is so named because it is in the old town hall. We’d had a drink in one of local pub earlier and many of the pubs in this area of Ireland have little hearths and some that burn coal still. We spent several hours at Cashel and then moved on to Limerick.

outside the building

inside the Cathedral

The rock of Cashel (Co Tipperary)

We went to visit the quite famous rock of Cashel (Click link for infos about it). I really enjoyed it like I enjoy visiting any historical building and the guided tour was interesting, I felt quite clever afterwards (On the phone to friends after the visit: “What, didn’t you know king Aenghus was converted by St Patrick in the 5th century in county Tipperary? Mate you really need to go back to school…”).

There was a battered aul’ cross outside the cathedral and the guide informed us that there was a legend that said if you could hop on one leg nine times around it you’d be married in the following year.Didn’t do it. Was unconvinced that hoping around on one foot, looking like an eejit in front of everyone, would help me pick up a potential husband.

The visit really inspired me loads of potential novels but nothing to help with the current novel I really want to finish before I start anything else. I have reached the 1/3 mark and I am a bit uninspired at the moment, trying to find interesting twists to the story and decide between different plotlines.At least for once I have my title already, The Green Haven, and the story is about immigrants trying to settle in Ireland with difficulty.And of course my heroine is going to be sucked into Irish music like I have been.

And….great news….I have the Fiddle!

This time I went to the shop with Fellow Nanny Donyah and I behaved myself and I did buy the fiddle. It was great fun walking around Dublin with the fiddle case pretending I was the new Mairead ni Mhaonaigh , I was like, walking fast with a  ”I’ve a gig ,I’m busy”  put on face.When I was really thinking “I haven’t got a clue how to play that thingy”.Haha!

 I’ve started practicing on the fiddle and I don’t think I’m too bad at it yet, after a while I could manage to play all the notes on the fingercharts without producing glass shattering screeches. I’m a bit concerned my own playing gave me a headache this morning, though. I don’t think that’s a good sign, is it ?

Will keep you updated on my progress.

Stick around folks!

M xx

Going to dublin from cork, it’s hard not to notice the castle atop the hill, we were wondering how to get there, it took us another trip to get the glimpse of the name:The Rock of Cashel.

Standing on the limestone rock, the castle’s presence dominates the whole town .The Rock of Cashel is apparently the site that St.Patrick converted the king of Munster. Unfortunately the saint accidentally stabbed the king in the foot with his crosier. The king, thinking it was part of the initiation rite, bore the pain. :p

The complex displays arrays of celtic and medieval architecture. Not to miss are the ruins of a round tower, a Romanesque chapel, a Gothic cathedral, a hall building and several high crosses.

The round tower and the cathedral are probably the earliest and esoteric structure in the complexes with height of approx 28 metres.

Cormac’s Chapel, unlike most Romanesque churches has the naves and altar spaces designs strongly suggesting germanistic influence, a feature quite obscure in Ireland. Not to miss the carvings on the archways and the frescoes …although it wasn’t totally restored as the chapel literally ‘wept’ when it was closed down before.

The hall is now restored and turned into a museum, showcasing the collection of silverwares and St.Patrick’s Cross (a cross used in the inauguration ceremonies of the kings).Not to miss also is the sarcophagus of the Bishop that earned the title of half-up catholic and half-down protestant bishop

The ground is actually a graveyard. So this is a real treat for ‘graveyard goers like me (i only go in daytime okay?!), unfortunately, one of the highest cross was struck down by lightning.

To add more on the history of the place, this is where Guiness was initially concocted. So beer drinkers, pay your homage as well

Hier ein paar Eindrücke von unserem Kurzurlaub in Irland

I’m back this afternoon from a 9-day tour of southern Ireland, and in the enviable position of being able to do some writing in the next couple of weeks!

First, the trip. I travelled with (my wife) Fiona from Dublin to Bray, where we met her parents for a road trip around the south coast. We finished up yesterday in Galway, leaving Fiona’s parents (who continue up and around through Northern Ireland) to return to Dublin by train.

Ireland is the kind of place where inspiration might be found around any corner, or in any field. It lives up to the near-mythical stereotype of a country almost overrun by history. Yes, yes, sheep graze in lush fields, heedless of the castles lying fallow in their midst—and all that.

But it also defies expectations. What struck me most strongly was that, between the innumerable historical monuments, the imprints of human hands are pressed deep into the land itself.

Examples abound. The Burren, a region of County Clare, includes a large area of exposed limestone, laid bare in the last few thousand years after the forest was cleared by neolithic peoples. In the south-west, some parts seem more scrub, reclaimed by nature from abandoned pasture, than active farmland—a persistent sign of the famines, perhaps. And in the present the landscape is changing rapidly. A riot of construction is going on all across the country. It’s as if some giant is wandering about with an enormous house-stamp, turning green fields into row after row of identical houses with a bash-bash-bash.

Back home, I still don’t know what Ireland is all about. I offer no special interpretation for the above observations. But that doesn’t matter so much—one can’t hope to understand a place in little more than a week.

Getting back to the issue of inspiration, I was able to unwind in Ireland from the past couple of months. A side-effect was a powerful urge to write. More on that and reviews of my holiday reading, to come…

“C’est une invasion danoise…

Je me repose tranquillement de ma randonnée matutinale dans les feuilles cramoisies, les yeux encore emplis de cette force dégagée par le Roc de Saint Patrick et par l’abbaye de Hore voisine. Sous un soleil généreux réveilllant le sol gelé par la clarté de la nuit, j’ai arpenté les pâtures du bocage… C’est une matinée tranquille après le moment exceptionnel de la nuit dernière. Allongé à même le sol sous les étoiles, au pied du roc, j’ai savouré ce genre de moment unique que la vie sait parfois vous réserver, se dire que la vie est faite pour ceux qui veulent la saisir au moment où elle vous tend ces instants…

Tripper en s’enfilant quelques Guinness au son des guitares et du bodhràn, sans se poser de questions, essayant de tenir une discussion sensée avec les musiciens, puis en fuyant la civilisation pour l’obscurité de la chapelle non sans avoir emporté avec soi un chip&sausages…

Un de ces moments rares pour savourer la vie, heureux d’être ici et maintenant, plus que ça, de pouvoir apprécier le soleil, la lune, les étoiles, le genre de chose qui fait relativiser la disparition de ma vie d’Amy, en me disant que si je suis capable d’être heureux comme ça, il n’y a pas de raison qu’une petite souche n’ait envie un jour de partager sa vie. C’est futile, artificiel, mais c’est ce que j’ai sur le coeur.

Elle joue très bien au piano cette Danoise.

Comment pourrais-je regretter d’être venu en Irlande après des moments comme ceux là ?”

Rock of Cashel

“Une matinée bruineuse, dans les brumes du Rock of Cashel. Un break dans cette petite ville. Que le réconfort d’une pinte a été bon après quatre jours de jeûne. Histoire de savourer le sang de la terre après l’avoir foulée ce matin, sous la pluie, dans le brouillard, dans ce monastère perché. Quelle étrange sensation pendant cette courte marche de reculer de plusieurs siècles, en cheminant tel un moine, autour des remparts de la forteresse. Déserte…

Peut-être aurais-je du aller à la messe, je ne sais pas si il y a de meilleurs moyens pour saisir l’ambiance, à défaut de rentrer en contact. J’aurais du accompagner Crocodile au match de hurling…

Je crois que j’ai besoin d’une douche, un douche réparatrice, pour faire le point.”

Saint Patrick é o padroeiro da Irlanda. Graças a ele o trevo de três folhas é um dos símbolos da Irlanda. Sabiamente, Saint Patrick (ou São Patrício, aportuguesando) exemplificou o Santíssima Trindade usando o trevo de três folhas. Deve ser por isso que encontrar um trevo de quatro folhas é tão valorizado. Um trevo de quatro folhas então simboliza mais do que o Pai, o Filho e o Espírito Santo. Bom, só suposição usando-se lógica. Mas bem da verdade, há mais trevos no sítio de Dona Sinhá do que aqui na Irlanda. Nos matinhos do sítio da minha avó, facilmente encontramos trevos, mas por aqui, nunca vi nenhum, só as sementes que são vendidas em todas as lojas de souvenires. Deve ser que junto com as cobras, Saint Patrick também “expulsou” os trevos. Sim, não há cobras na Irlanda porque Saint Patrick expulsou todas há mais de mil anos. Com um cajado de madeira na mão, ele conduziu todas as cobras da Irlanda em direção ao mar e elas nunca mais voltaram. Depois de saber disso, não tenho mais medo de andar nos matos da Irlanda.

O St Patrick’s Day é celebrado dia 17 de março, sendo feriado nacional e dia santo. Dia 17 de março é a suposta data de seu falecimento. Essa data é comemorada em muitos lugares do mundo, sendo a maior celebração em Nova Iorque, quando as pessoas vestem verde para relembrar os campos verdejantes do interior da Irlanda. É a maior festa da Irlanda com uma grande parada na avenida principal, pubs lotados e permissão para se beber do lado de fora dos pubs. Aqui não é permitido beber na rua, então esse dia se torna mais especial ainda para os irlandeses, mas com um porém: só depois das 16h. Também imagine se eles começassem desde cedo? As comemorações começaram na quinta-feira e terminaram na segunda-feira, dia 17. Muitas festividades na cidade, parque de diversões e muita Guinness.

Minha comemoração começou no sábado. Fui a Cashel  ver o festival de fogos de artifício, o SkyFest. Na verdade fui trabalhar lá, um trabalho muito duro: viajar, entregar durante 20 minutos gorros e cachecóis pro povo que foi pra festa, ver os fogos, voltar pra casa e ganhar bem por isso. Muito difícil! E não foi poucos fogos não, foi em torno de 15 minutos com uma linda paisagem ao fundo de um castelo do século IV, o Rock of Cashel. Espetacular!!! Veja o vídeo de 1 min, de 5 min e veja também a fumaça dos fogos se indo e o castelo aparecendo. Muito lindo!

No domingo, fui comemorar o aniversário de Tanylle. Feijoada!!! Tudo é possível aqui nessa Irlanda.

Uma cozinheira muito boa!!! E a baianada toda lá!

No dia da Parada mesmo, fomos pra O’Connell Street ver qual era a parada. Bom, é tipo desfile de Sete de Setembro, um pouco mais animado. Eles homenageiam também as comunidades que vivem na Irlanda. Cada país faz um desfile.

Na hora que passou o Brasil eu estava no telefone tentando escutar a Lisa e não prestei atenção. Mas era tipo um cara em cima de carro andante cantando uma musica de Axé, mas acho que era play-back… Depois disso fomos ao The Market almoçar.

Depois do almoço, fomos para frente do National Concert Hall onde estavam tocando música tradicional irlandesa e apresentação de dança.

E lá fomos nós tentar dançar.

Sou boa de samba, que requebra as cadeiras e dança irlandesa se mexe muito o pé, mas não há remelexo. Não pode haver na verdade, é esse o jeito de dançar. Se requebra, tá errado.

Pra terminar: PUB!!!! Ai, não se tem muito o que dizer, pub é pub.

Deixando-se a metáfora de lado, não há cobra na Irlanda deste o período pós-glacial. Foi uma metáfora que St Patrick, o missionário do Cristianismo, utilizou para expulsar as coisas demoníacas dos Druidas que viviam aqui e não eram cristãos. Ao tentar trazer o Cristianismo a Irlanda, ele se utilizou do trevo também porque o trevo era sagrado para os druidas. Esperto ele, não?

Saiba mais sobre St Patrick e St Patrick’s Day aqui, aqui e aqui. 

Saturday night I found myself at Kell’s Pub with a writer-friend named Bonnie. She was in town for a night, and we caught up on our gossip and writerly doings in the midst of partying 20-somethings. We’d originally met on the Maui Writers Conference circuit, and, speaking of St. Patrick and all good things Irish, we roomed together during an Irish writers retreat in 2006.

Here we are at the Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary.

We get on well for many reasons. We believe in each others’ writing (she’s the better artist, actually), aren’t drama-queens, and appreciate space and independent behavior. In fact, she’d heard the following through the small-world-writers-conference grapevine — it’s truly bizarre how insular and petty that world can be: Apparently, we earned ourselves a snobbish reputation during the retreat!

One evening after a day of writing and workshopping, a few of us decided to dine together. Word went around, and our cozy group of four turned into a loud and demanding 25. I couldn’t stand it. Neither could Bonnie. So we opted out with nice excuses and ended up at a local’s pub (no tourists there!). We ate our sandwiches and sipped our Guinnesses alongside a couple of old codgers we barely understood. This was perfect for us.

Were we snobs? Maybe, maybe not. Our flight wasn’t personal to any individual — it was the herd itself. Peer dynamics can be tough for those of us with lone-wolf tendencies. Besides, what difference could our departure possibly have had on the rest of the group? None. Or so we innocently assumed as we said our goodbyes.

I raise a St. Patrick’s Day toast to all “snobbish” individualists everywhere!

Slainte!

P.S. Check out this St. Patrick.

I snapped this shot in a village church during a 2004 novel-research trip. At the time, it struck me as, uh, colorful. Not the usual saintly statue so worth remembering. Low and behold, the image came in handy a few months ago when he made a surprise cameo appearance in my current first draft.

Be sure to check out Pat’s 2006 trip to Ireland at Mille Fiori Favoriti. Some awesome pictures and lots of commentary on places she and her husband visited. It’s a great introduction to what I might be seeing over there! Pat kissed the Blarney Stone, but I’m not sure I need to, since I can already talk a blue streak! I think I’ll have to add the Rock of Cashel to my list though; it looks pretty impressive.