…It must be Cork. Or Waterford. Or Cashel. Or… I dunno. I’m sort of losing track. Was it just the other day that we wandered through the Treasures of Waterford museum, learning all about the history of Waterford, from how it started out as a Viking fort and eventually made it into the major city (major for Ireland, at least) that it is today?

Yeah. Yeah, I think it was. Since then we’ve made our way through Cahir, Cashel (where we saw the awesome and spectacular Rock of Cashel), stayed the night in Cashel, driven through more of Southeast Ireland, saw a wildlife park, and made it here to Cork. Pictures from Cashel are here. We were going to upload pictures from Waterford, but we’ve had some technical difficulties.
Speaking of Cork, I should mention that driving in Cork is probably one of the most terrifying experiences that the average American driver can go through. Not only are the streets narrow and packed, they are narrow and packed and one lane wide and two-way traffic with people parked on the side of the road, leaving you a usable driving space approximately the width of your car. No problem, until you have to deal with opposing traffic at the intersection. When you hit that situation, you’re probably better off abandoning the car and making your way back to Cashel to live as a monk. Or you could chew your leg off. That might help relieve the stress.

I’ve compiled a few tips for Americans driving in Ireland, though. First, you must drive on the left. That means that when you make a left turn, you really, really have to check to the right to make sure there’s no oncoming traffic, not just to the left. Second, you must overcome your desire to have your view of the road be to the left side of the road. You want to stay to the center of the lane, which means to the right. There’s a lot less car on your right than you’re used to, and you’re going to tend to drift to the left because of that. Resist this urge. Overcome your desire. It is nothing but vanity and maya. Om.

Actually, the most important tip of all is not to panic when your wife panics. I think that’s pretty much says it all.

We ended up in the suburbs of Cork while hunting for our B&B, and stopped in a pharmacy to ask for directions. Fortunately for us, there was a grey-haired fellow there who offered very kindly to lead us to the B&B in his car. So we made it safe and sound. The Irish are very friendly.

Back to Waterford. Having been thwarted in my attempts in Kilkenny to find good live Irish music, I ended up on Saturday night at a pub called T&H Doulan’s in downtown Waterford. There happened to be a band playing that night called Homebrew. Two guys on guitar and a guy on a banjo. These guys rocked. Even with their small band, they managed to sound more like Dropkick Murphys than Golden Bough. Even the mournful ballad “Fields of Athenry” was delivered with a driving beat that made my heart want to sync up with it (I assume, actually, that it’s some sort of mournful ballad; the words certainly seem that way, but the only versions of it I’ve heard are these guys and Dropkick Murphys, who add a hardcore punk sound to it). At the end of the evening, I wound up with my ears ringing and my head throbbing. Those are the two marks of a really good night of Irish music.

I drank two pints of Guinness. I danced (sort of — all of the dancing I do is just sort of dancing) and flirted shamelessly with an older woman (I think she was in her 50’s) named Margritte. She was from France, and I don’t think we understood more than 10% of the conversation we had.

More fun than that was the cute brunette who was accidentally shoved up against me by her friends, with her face in my shirt. She informed me, in the really cool Irish accent that I love so much, that I smelled good. I thanked her, and she started to talk to me some more; I casually dropped the words “My wife” into the conversation, and she moved on.

Have I mentioned how friendly the Irish are?

Guinness, loud music, friendly people. The castles, abbeys, ruins, wildlife parks, and countryside are all lovely and well worth the trip to Ireland. But it’s evenings like Saturday that I think is the best part of Ireland. Getting friendly-like with the locals and getting to know a few people, even if you have to shout at the top of your lungs over the band’s rendition of “Danny Boy” to do so.