Travels on the road with Karen

We Must Dream with our Feet Moving

2007-12-31T17:49:00.000-08:00

May the coming year be a joyful and courageous journey for you and your loved ones!

Traveling Solo with Wise Eyes

2007-09-07T17:00:00.000-07:00

After much planning and anticipation, I took my
first-ever solo trip to Europe! The first leg of the trip was spent studying French for 2 weeks in a little village in Loire Valley called Sancerre. It was such an exhilirating experience. Having taken many years of French in school, I found that the language came back quickly. I got really good at telling everyone Je suis etudiante en Francaise, parlez lentement s'il vous plait' (I think it means I am a student of French, please speak slowly...)

2007-09-07T12:00:00.000-07:00

When I wasn't in the classroom studying, I was running through vineyards to train for the upcoming Berlin marathon. I also loved walking around the village, meeting the locals and giving directions to the tourists (in French no less...)

2007-09-07T11:30:00.000-07:00

Here are several of my new friends. Guilliame is the local Boulanger (baker). I bought the best poppy seed baguette every morning so we got to be close pals! I also took a field trip to Le Chevrerie (goat farm) where I tried my hand at milking.

2007-09-07T11:00:00.000-07:00

Sancerre is in the middle of wine country. Even though I don't drink wine I certainly appreciate the effort and intricate process it takes to turn grapes to cabernet
season after season. My fellow students and I had a rousing night out (every night actually) to celebrate our new friendship and toast another grand bottle of Sancerre's best offerings! I ate the rice, pasta and bread since I was carbo loading for my race.

2007-09-07T09:00:00.000-07:00

On my way to Germany I made a couple of stops. I stayed with a lovely family in the north of France for several days. I continued to practice my French though the household also spoke German and English. I was continuosly delighted by the hospitality I experienced every step of the way.

I visited grad school pal Willem, who lives in Rotterdam. We took a jaunt to Amsterdam one afternoon.

2007-09-07T08:30:00.000-07:00

I joined the hospitality organization called SERVAS http://www.usservas.org/ and had the pleasure of meeting Luzy. Her family lives outside of Berlin and they opened their home-in-the-woods to me. I had a relaxing few days walking Jasper, their Golden Retriever and playing duplo blocks on the floor.

2007-09-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

The day prior to the marathon I suspended my race rule (stay off my feet, drink water and relax). I am in Berlin after all so I spent the morning sight seeing. What an interesting city this is. I looked forward to covering many of the same spots during the race tomorrow!

2007-09-07T06:45:00.000-07:00

Berlin marathon is my 24th time running 26.2 miles. I am often astonished by that fact myself! What thrills me is having the opportunity to combine my love

of running with travel and meeting new people everywhere I go. The world becomes a much smaller and friendly place with each kilometer I run.

2007-09-07T06:00:00.000-07:00

Next stop was Zurich. I took my tired yet ever eager marathon legs to Switzerland for the last few days of the trip. After a day of making my way around the city, my SERVAS host and I went took the train to Lucerne for an exhilarating hike in the Alps.

2007-09-07T05:30:00.000-07:00

Breathtaking, isn't it? The view of Lake Lucerne was indescribable. Bettina is a student and speaks 4 languages in addition to English. I thought this was a grand way to end my trip!

2007-09-07T02:00:00.000-07:00

Oh one more thing...Matt and David were also in Lucerne! The RxBandits gave a show, David traveled along to sell the band merchandise and Megan flew to Germany to support Matt and travel herself. My last night in Europe was spent listening to the Bandits play music and showing off my digital photos.... :)

Montana in July

2007-07-12T14:00:00.000-07:00

I am certain that Montana in the summer is as close to heaven as I've seen so far. I came here to visit my best friend Janis while she spends a month on retreat in her pal Lou's cabin above White Fish Lake. We both reveled in the fresh pine scent, clean mountain air and animal creatures who call this home.

2007-07-12T13:45:00.000-07:00

Glacier National Park defies description. Every turn of the road produced another gasp of astonishment.

2007-07-12T13:30:00.000-07:00

Critters, sweet critters everywhere. They seems completely oblivious to all the humans walking the trails and snapping their photos. We also spotted several big horn sheep on a distant mountain top, a squirrel brother and sister chasing each other through the grassy knoll and what I think was a marmot sunning himself. Could have been a woodchuck....

2007-07-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

Every evening we'd cool off in White Fish Lake. Gracie re-learned to swim (don't all dogs know how to swim, they forget they know??). I had a blast coaxing her off the dock to join me as I floated in my inner tube. This is TRULY the life.

Bonnaroo Here We Come!

2007-06-16T23:30:00.000-07:00

How can I begin to describe this particular journey? Suffice to say that I wanted to go to Woodstock in the summer of 1969. That I didn't is another story, one that is waiting to be told. Mom Goes to Woodstock(38 years later) or something along those lines :)

When Matt announced that his band - the RxBandits - was slated to play the biggest music festival in the United States (does The Police and The White Stripes ring a bell yet?), I AM THERE! Imagine the scene...driving an RV big enough to house 8 of us, the Seal Beach/Long Beach Kids' contingent, Tennessee hospitality, camping with the musicians and Music 24 hours a day. That I am in the minority age-wise is irrelevant. We all had our own fun, in our own way and I even stayed up past 9PM!

2007-06-16T23:16:00.000-07:00

Megan and I are in front of our Home-Away-From-Home. We flew to Savannah, GA and drove over 400 miles to Manchester, Tennessee. What an adventure. I learned many new highway rules thanks to the friendly Southern law enforcement gentlemen I met along the way...

2007-06-16T23:00:00.000-07:00

We spent the morning hiking and exploring the Old Fort Archeological Site in Manchester. What an example of the wonder of nature it is.

2007-06-16T22:45:00.000-07:00

It was a typical hot summer day so this was a relief to

find such an idyllic spot to lounge in. The girls reminded me of wood nymphs from a mythical novel.

2007-06-16T22:30:00.000-07:00

The crowd awaits their favorite Orange County, CA band...

the RxBandits. I am the Band Mom extraordinaire, jumping out of my skin with excitement to be backstage!

2007-06-16T22:00:00.000-07:00

We really had alot of fun. I had quite a few star sightings (Bob Weir from the Grateful Dead, Ziggy Marley and even Laura Dern with husband Ben Harper). Oh and I had lunch next to Dennis, The Police's sound technician. That is as close to Sting as I managed to get unless you count 10th row center on the field during his Saturday night show!

2007-06-16T21:45:00.000-07:00

We did not want our fun to end. Alas, the campers went home, the musicians took off to do another show and we ate our last breakfast at the Huddle House. I guess we're the lucky ones though since music the never ends...the RxBandits practice in my garage!

2007-06-16T20:30:00.000-07:00

RxBandits are my favorite band and so what if I am a little biased....

www.rxbandits.com

Maui No Ka Oi

2007-05-16T15:53:00.000-07:00

Ah Maui. Swaying palm trees, fresh ocean breezes, the scent of plumeria wafting through the airport. My nervous system slows down a few notches at the very idea of Maui.

Janis and I have had these plans since August 2006! This is Janis’ first trip here whereas I lost count at 12. My good college friends John and Susan Guard own The Pet Shop in the Maui Mall and have played host to many of my trips here. In fact they met me at the airport and we lunched and then saw Miss Potter at the Cultural Center to pass the time waiting for Janis’ plane to arrive.

2007-05-16T15:00:00.001-07:00

So for 5 days I actually got to play tour guide! We ventured to the south end of Maui and visited Makena Beach and Kihei, both of which have changed and grown. No trip to Maui is complete without the drive to Hana. We had perfect weather, oogled at all the breathtaking summits, stopped every chance we could for photos and snacked at Hana Beach Park. The Seven Sacred Pools (Ohe’o Gulch) was a blissful site with one waterfall pouring into another all the way to the ocean.

2007-05-16T14:50:00.000-07:00

Our adventure to Haleakala Crater was equally fulfilling. The jacaranda trees were in full bloom on the drive up the mountain, their purple color so contrasting to the green fields surrounding them. The summit of Haleakala resembles the moon no doubt and it takes my breath away – and not only because we are 10,000 feet above sea level!

We met my dear old friends for lunch in Kula not far from their beautiful home. It was a blast to catch up and relive some of our funny past experiences too.

2007-05-16T13:00:00.000-07:00

I took a stroll along the hotel complex beach path one morning while Janis was off exploring with her newfound plane friend from the East Coast. Here is the story that came forward from the experience.

I paused at the planter as the man in the wheelchair prepared for his snorkeling outing. He pulled himself out of the chair, legs limp, thin yet not quite lifeless. He grabbed the hand pads that would later serve as flippers of sorts.
I watched as he turned away from the ocean, readying his body to drag,

rest,

drag,

rest,

drag,

rest,

drag

regroup all the way to the water’s edge.

I sat staring in what I hope was a non-obtrusive manner, tears flowing down my cheeks. Awe, gratitude for health and strength in my limbs and inspired by his guts.

I yearned to sit with him surfside, questions not too nosy but shoot, I just wanted to know: How did this happen to you? What is that huge scar on your back from some well-meaning doctor with knife in hand determined to mend that broken spine? Were you sad, pissed off or just plain flabbergasted? What changed that transformed a self-pitying what’s-the-use kind of day into a snorkeling adventure? Instead I probably would have started with the usual tourist-speak:Where are you from, how long are you here for, have you tried the Hula Grill yet?

Would I be as determined as he if my legs were rendered motionless? I hoped I’d determine and persevere my way to the ocean too, under similar circumstances. So focused and strong with intention that my participation in the Ironman Triathlon might even be cause for celebration one day.

Thank you sir. As your lone chair sits under the shady macadamia nut tree, the sandy trail evident and is perfectly memorialized. You may never know how your courage touched this marathoner. The surrender of a lifetime that even a maxed out Visa card couldn’t fix. I am blessed and numbly open with thankful awe.

Big Sur 21 Miler

2007-04-29T13:54:00.000-07:00

My intention for the Big Sur 21 Miler was to have fun, experience the beauty and majesty of the scenery and nature that this course is famous for.

I woke up at the ungodly hour of 3:50AM (anything with a 3 in it is sleepy time in my opinion…). All the race participants – marathoners, 21 mile power walkers, 10 milers alike – prepared to board the bus and take the hour long ride to the start line. The course hugs the California coast with its 2 lane highway introducing us to expansive ocean views, cliffs with neighboring flower fields and fog-filled head winds. The wind did whip and a few fog banks descended but considering that one year it hailed, I found the weather to be quite pleasant.

The Big Sur marathon is rated in the top 10 of the most scenic races in the U.S. Can we add HILLY to that description? Despite the challenging terrain, I found myself enamored with the beauty and enjoyed the camaraderie with my fellow participants. I walked the up-hills, ran the down-hills and stretched my hamstring cramp any time it talked to me J. In addition to the crashing waves and steep craggy shoreline, nature’s animal kingdom abounded. I saw a pack of llamas and herd of sheep, heard boisterous cattle, shrieking quail and neighing horses, even a very resourceful gopher made his way across Pacific Coat Highway. He needn’t have worried, I sure wasn’t running fast enough to trip over him!

Though many marathons have entertainment on the course, Big Sur matched its out-of-the-box reputation with the performers. Reggae bands crooning Bob Marley hits, high school bands up at the crack of dawn playing Hello Dolly renditions, drum corps and even a solo electric keyboardist provided musical power when our legs wanted to quit. Belly dancers were a welcome sight as was the “Hugger” giving service to all who wanted it. I think I may have cried on his shoulder, I can’t quite remember.

At the end of the famous Bixby Bridge, a concert pianist performed and greeted each runner with familiar tunes. “Linus and Lucy” of Charlie Brown Thanksgiving fame was the song I was entertained with. As I huffed passed the pianist. That song put a skip in my step (hey, it was only mile 4 or so…).

I also sang to myself which manages to propel me forward and soothe me all at once. If I can’t remember the words I just make them up. Or I’ll repeat a song over and over (“High Hopes” comes to mind). I guess I am my own little iPod.

My friends Susan and Therese and her boyfriend Randy finished the marathon as I was chowing down on Doles fruit cup and hot soup. We all were a bit blurry-eyed and weary yet so proud and inspired by the accomplishment. I especially felt encouraged with the completion of such a challenging run meant my training for Berlin marathon (Sept. 30) was do-able. I’ll brush up on my Beatles songs by then.

2007-04-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

2007-04-29T01:04:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to Me

2007-04-22T10:44:00.000-07:00

I ran La Jolla Half marathon on my 56th birthday. This course runs along Torrey Pines Park past Del Mar and into the village of La Jolla. Many people saw my birthday race shirt (Today is my 56th Birthday. Cool, huh?) and wished me a Happy Birthday which made the celebration even more special.

2007-04-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

I took a nice long bath at my friend Cathy’s house and was later surprised by the gathering of my buddies waiting to wish me good cheer! Yummy food, great friends, blessings all around!

Trip to the Ranch

2007-02-25T08:35:00.000-08:00

My dog Callie, a Shepherd, Lab, Cattle-dog mixture really loves our family ranch the very best. It is located in San Diego county, nearest the town of San Ysabel and Julian. Ever heard of Dudley’s bakery? They have the BEST bread ever. Anyway, my Sierra Club pals and I went to the ranch for a weekend of rest, relaxation and Mexican Train! That is an absorbing dominoes game that can take hours to finish. In between eating, taking pictures and hiking, we played. The sunsets are amazing there. Callie likes the hikes the very best. She is a true Cattle dog.

2007-02-25T08:29:00.000-08:00

This picture was taken off the back deck of the main house. Truly spectacular!

Off to Austin

2007-02-16T08:50:00.000-08:00

Since running is my favorite sport and traveling my most treasured pastime, why not combine the 2? So off to Texas I go! It is high time to introduce my best pal Janis, to road racing. Any experienced running aficionado knows, the first stop before the race is the Running Expo. All signed up for the Austin Half Marathon, we explored the isles of run socks, clothes and sports food energy bars.

2007-02-16T08:49:00.000-08:00

Race day came early (dark, cold, early!) and yet our spirits were excited and alert. There is nothing like a crowd of runners up at the crack of dawn, chipper and chatty about the task ahead.

2007-02-16T08:48:00.000-08:00

I took my ritual picture with the local law enforcement, watched the early morning fireworks and off we went!

2007-02-16T08:47:00.000-08:00

We had a blast, singing, taking in the Austin sights and of course receiving our medals at the finish line. Best part is the hot bath waiting at Janis’ home and the stack of pancakes I devoured for post-race breakfast!

2007-02-16T08:40:00.000-08:00

Finish line - glory!!

Let's Start the Year off Running!

2007-01-03T08:18:00.000-08:00

A Sunday run with friends at El Moro State Park reminds me how nature and wilderness can be so rejuvenating. I did spy a few bunnies and a lizard or two along the way. It is hard to believe that a Trader Joes and Ann Taylor Clothing store are a mile down the road. This is a favorite running path where wide ocean views are unmatched and the fragrance of sage is pervasive.

2007-01-03T08:00:00.000-08:00

2007-01-02T18:55:00.000-08:00

I have written in a journal since my sister was born (sorry Krissy…) in 1963. I corresponded with my family from my East Coast boarding school. I was a pen pal long before email was invented. Though I have written on many other subjects and situations, the topic of TRAVEL continues to inspire and intrigue me. Recounting a trip in written form seems to make the experience more real and invites this dreamer to, well, dream some more! It puts a smile on my face and a lift in my step to re-live my journeys through word and picture. My intention for my travel blog is to create interesting, inspiring, perhaps even entertaining photo essays and share them with my friends and family. I get one step closer to writing a book. So won’t you join me please?

A Little Bit of History

2007-01-01T18:47:00.000-08:00

I’ve been traveling since I was a small child. My Dad even recounts the time when … “Our family had decided to fly to California to visit Mom's mother and father. Almost like pioneers of a sort we ventured forth in our small four seat single engine plane from Chicago. On the trip we had many exciting events, some totally delightful, but interspersed with frightening mountains to be crossed with the inevitable turbulence that caused our hearts to jump with fear for our safety. On the occasion that I will always remember, as we approached Albuquerque the very severe air convections made it highly desirable to make an unscheduled landing. When we stepped out upon solid land, you looked up at me and said, "NO MORE FLYING TODAY, DADDY." After we tucked you into bed at our motel that evening Mom and I wondered what your reaction would be when we arrived back at the airport for the next leg of our trip. We needed not worry. You climbed back into the airplane ready to go. We found that we had a two year old girl with great courage and fortitude who seemed to know how to take the good with the bad!”
What a trooper, eh? Guess this is an example of what is to come later in life!

2007-01-01T18:25:00.000-08:00

My adventure at 2 years old

Papa Was a Rolling Stone 5/16/06

2006-05-31T21:05:00.000-07:00

(Names have been changed to protect anonymity)

I have fancied myself quite a healthy sort, especially in the last few years. Perusing through my AARP newsletter each month I began to feel grateful as I read about some other 50 somethings who were already taking blood pressure medicine or challenged with serious health concerns. My strong legs had taken me through 23 marathons, many more half marathons and countless shorter road races. I have visions of a trophy room filled with medals, plaques and race numbers each an example of years of participation in this sport. The trick is to outlive the competition which truthfully is the only way this slow but steady chick will place in her age group!

So… how did I find myself at the local medical center, checking into the same-day-surgery ward preparing for a state of the art lithotripsy procedure? I dubbed it Star Wars surgery as I visualized the laser beams preparing to blast a ¾ inch kidney stone that had taken residence in my left kidney to smithereens. Up until 2 months ago, I didn’t even know I HAD this kidney stone until a catscan was performed and there was the not-so-little sucker, pictured on the x-ray, clear as day.

If this wasn’t enough excitement, on the day of the procedure, I also had a right ear that needed some immediate attention. During my routine Tuesday morning run, I tripped on the Seal Beach river channel path and tumbled into a sidewalk laced with ice plant. I landed on my right shoulder and finally came to a halt after my right ear and cheek hit the pavement. Stunned, scared and disheveled, I took my running buddy’s arm, hobbled upright and started to walk on home. She got a good look at my ear and guessed I might need a few stitches. Well, lucky me, I mused, I’ll be at the hospital all day anyway. Surely I can have this taken care of in one fell swoop.

The body has an amazing mechanism called SHOCK. As I dallied home, while walking Callie and looking for some sign that someone or something was watching over me, I saw my neighbor running with his Jack Russell terrier. My brain exclaimed, Show him your ear, he’s a doctor but alas no sound came out of my mouth. In a split second I talked myself out of sharing my predicament and watched him run on. I’ll tell the nurses at the medical center, they’ll fix me up.

Once home, I sheepishly glimpsed at my ear and cringed ever so slightly at the sight. I took a bath, washed my hair and cleaned the area with alcohol and q-tips the very best I could, willing myself not to pass out from the thought of it all. Some nurse I’d make. I hurt, my ear ached, my shoulder was throbbing so I lay down on ice hoping to prevent more swelling and bruising. My friend Jane arrived and together we read over some of my affirmations for the day ahead. My kidney stone quickly and easily dissolves, passes effortlessly and rapidly with little or no notice from me at all and Every hand that touches me in the hospital is a healing hand and expresses only love. My favorite was I AM imagining Love and Light flowing from my own heart down through my arms and into my hands. I place my hands over the part that is healing and say I LOVE YOU AND I AM HELPING YOU GET WELL. I wished that morning I had written something about staying upright, sure-footed and aware of my surroundings.

As we drove to the hospital, I recalled the day almost 26 years ago when I came there for a very different reason. My first born son was birthed in one of those clean, cheery (if sterile) and sunny rooms. One major remodel later, I would barely recognize the entrance or any of the many hallways or rooms I passed on the way to my same-day-surgery wing. Nurses Candie and Myra greeted me and showed me to the first of many curtained areas that I would call home for the day. I was handed the loveliest of hospital garb which included booties, the standard gown as well as 2 white blankets. I showed Myra my ear and shoulder and mentioned half jokingly that I sure hope if I need stitches, that they can do it while I am under anesthesia. She said to show my doctor and anesthesiologist later in the morning.

Once Myra was done taking all my pertinent information (name, address, was I depressed, what is my religious prevalence) I was left alone for a good half hour, doomed to get comfortable on the hospital bed. Oh, how I wanted one of those firm, high massage table bolsters that gets placed under my knees during Swedish massages. My right side was achy and I could barely lift my right arm or hip to get situated. I fashioned an extra pillow into a knee support which helped some.

So here we were, the motley crew of City Medical Center. My two ‘neighbors’ were being prepped for their procedures. The lady I had briefly chatted with prior to check-in was having a 2 hour hand surgery to re-attach and strengthen a couple of tendons on her right hand. I watched the twenty-something gentleman to my left lift himself from his wheelchair and gingerly raise up his right leg onto his bed. He had stepped on a needle that now needed removal. And then there was me, with my rather useless right side and unattended blood-crusted right ear pondering the ¾ inch stone floating in my left kidney. Its days are numbered. Hey, I was grateful to be me right then. I knew that my guardian angels Lilly and Lorraine were in my room watching every last detail. Did those two neighbors of mine have a Lilly and Lorraine tending to their needs? I started to laugh and wondered what mental ward would now admit me once they heard I have these fairies surrounding my hospital bedroom.

The OR was busier than usual and my appointed time came and went. At 1:20PM a handsome young black orderly finally rolled me to my next station. We chatted a bit as I noticed the halls were a maze of machines, laundry bins, wheel chairs and hospital paraphernalia. I kept wondering where their storage closet or room was. No wonder I am a professional organizer, something like this really bugs me. It looked like someone had simply delivered these items and plopped them in the hallway for good measure. I hoped my kind orderly would not bump my moving bed into a laundry bin causing an avalanche of clothes, blankets and such, burying me for good.

My next stop was the pre-op room, another holding area where I would meet my anesthesiologist and see my urologist, Dr. Highbridge (can you resist that name?). I immediately informed the 2 pre-op nurses about my ear and shoulder situation. One of the gals said, “Oh, we can’t clean that, liability you know.” The other nurse shared her (limiting) belief about 55 year olds and rollerblades. I looked at her with a rather incredulous look on my face and began my defense with I’m a marathon runner, I grew up skating both on ice and the street blablabla but I stopped myself mid-sentence and asked when they could pipe in some Beatles music instead.

My anesthesiologist was a fairly serious fellow, short on words and bedside manner. I told him about my shoulder and he wanted to know if I wanted it x-rayed. I said No, but I would like you to look at my ear. He asked me if I was in any pain and I said Yes, I am pretty sore. Next thing you know the sedative Versed was administered and I entered into my-shoulder-still-hurts-but-I-no-longer-care land. Since my request for the Beatles was denied, I started humming to myself, going from album to album. I didn’t get very far as the Versed took over my brain. Ah well, my time in Pre-op ended and I was rolled into yet another room. It’s showtime.

Now I am in the OR so the first question I asked of my doctors was about the stereo system. Hey, I’ve watched my share of ER in television, I know they listen to music during operations. Did they have any Beatles (Please, Please Me)? I guess some gentleman named Fran had taken the speakers out of the OR. I commented that Isn’t that just like Fran to do that and then noticed the doctors had iPods anyway. Had the Versed encouraged me to ask one of the doctors to marry me? Two deep breathes into the oxygen mask, one rather burning sensation into my IV arm and I was out like a home run baseball. As I slept, my kidney stone was lasered and pilfered into sand and particles of stone.

No one can accuse me of giving up my Beatles cause without a fight. In the recovery room, an hour and half later, I verbalized my music preferences with the nurse who was monitoring my post-anesthesia blood pressure and oxygen intake. She had seen the John Lennon ‘A Day in the Life’ tribute band and shared my Beatles zeal. I am sure I informed her that, at age 13, I had actually seen the Beatles in living concert and now at age 55, loved the tribute band Fab Four as well. Oh, and by the way, had anyone checked on my ear while I as under the anesthesia? I knew the answer even before she responded.

My favorite orderly arrived (had I only been here a day – it seemed like a week) and wheeled me into my final destination – or so I thought. We started talking basketball finals and I asked him what he thought of Steve Nash (my personal fave player in the Phoenix Suns). Steve Nash is a worm was his response, I began to laugh and felt my cut ear open up a bit. Before we could discuss this further, my post-op nurse read my chart and recognized my name. In fact we had met on the running path a year or two ago and she lives on my ex-husband’s street. My God’s little messenger with the name of Catherine was the final caring soul who decided at last to get a good look at my ear and wash it with saline. Ouch, ouch came out of my mouth though I was trying to be the brave little soldier patient. I think you are going to need stitches she said and with my best Monica Geller from “Friends” voice I said I know, I’ve been telling people that all day. Frustrated, motivated and now determined, Catherine retrieved an ER doc who concurred with her diagnosis. Now consuming my tuna sandwich and orange drink, I regained the strength I needed to be discharged from same-day-surgery and was wheeled over to the ER.

They must just really like me here. I mean now I know why Charlie Brown coined the phrase GOOD GRIEF. The triage nurse typed my information, the cashier took my $100.00 check and I settled into the ER lounge for an hour and a half witnessing a parade of God’s children streamed in for medical attention: a man with an oxygen tank requesting a ‘refill’, another gentleman who complained of back pain, a Father (or was it a co-worker) seeking assistance for his daughter’s cut finger. All these divine beings having their very human experience. I mentally recited my gratitude list – my great health insurance, $ in the bank to cover my deductible, happy, healthy home and family, clean modern hospital surroundings and a long, gone kidney stone. Before long I would have a stitched, healing right ear to add to the thankful list.

My ER nurse named Nina led me to my prep room that was bordered with Finding Nemo characters. Guess the décor was meant to be a soothing, rather whimsical distraction to medical procedures about to take place there. I gave Nina the rundown of my day, we chitchatted about her work as a nurse practitioner and the next thing I know we were laughing about the movie Nightshift . I don’t know how that came up but I was gratified for our connection as I was scared and anxious about the stitches and the shot that would be necessary to numb my ear. Dorie’s infamous phrase Just keep swimming, just keep swimming rang through my brain as I squeezed the other ER nurse Jacob’s finger. Nina administered the numbing potion to my ear, professionally sewed 8 stitches and finally bandaged my head. I giggled at myself in the mirror and asked Jacob if he thought this was a good look for me. Personally I thought I resembled a war wounded soldier ready to drag this weary body home. It had been a day-long adventure and I was ready for a plate of home-made scrambled eggs, a soak in a hot bubble bath followed by a peaceful sleep in my own comfortable bed. Papa may have been a rolling stone but this girl wanted to lay her head in HER own home.

2006-05-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

Home - safe, sound and less one kidney stone!

Adventure to Ojai, Feb 2006

2006-03-30T15:19:00.000-08:00

*The World is a friendly place*
*I am safe wherever I go*
*Traveling Solo is a rich, educational, inspirational,
enjoyable, soulful learning experience.*

February 5, 2006

As the rest of the world prepares for the Super Bowl, I am sitting in a Bed and Breakfast in Ojai, California. Alone. By choice. No plans to cheer for a team, no intention to drink beer (stopped 17 years ago) or whoop and holler at the plasma TV in an overcrowded sports bar. Not that I would ever do that anyway, but I’m just saying.I have never been to Ojai, it was a suggestion of a dear friend to celebrate, rejuvenate and hibernate (I just made that up!) in this beautiful valley.

Saturday, I drove up the coast and marveled at my Pacific Ocean through towns I had not visited since high school. Trancas Beach, Zuma Beach, Malibu on into Oxnard. A lovely afternoon drive. This idea came to me while driving: to pack Callie up and take the trip all the way to Eureka. Stop in San Francisco area, visit friends along the way and then head up toward Humboldt County. Find places to stay that allow dogs and continue writing this book about solo travel. Musings of a Middle Age Dreamer.

SO, this is a beautiful place. Lovely outdoor area. I ate in the patio that faced the pool and backyard. There were houseplants everywhere, perched in a bird cage, setting upon an old wooden ironing board, straddling an antique Coke machine. I smiled as I recalled my own atrium at home with new life breathed into it with the addition of the plants Lynn gifted to me. Perhaps a small patio table is in order now.

My breakfast consisted of fresh berries, melons cut to size, perfect poached eggs. I mean perfect. Round, cooked with just a little runny yoke, just the ticket to top a whole wheat English muffin. Chamomile tea, luscious fresh squeezed orange juice. Briefly I remembered my favorite stop in Ireland, eating breakfast with my then-fiancé, anticipating finally meeting the sheep in the back field. What a magical place that was, with the outside nursery, ducks and dogs roaming the land, the Guinness beer factory barely visible in the distance. Willy and Bandy, his daughter’s pet sheep.

As I was preparing my meal, I mentioned to another guest that I am a writer and here for some quiet. Well, that is partially true. Though it is not the initial reason I came here, it is becoming quite apparent that writing is my saving grace and I am doing myself a huge favor by retreating, taking this trusty laptop along and hunkering down. I also am aware that saying I am a writer legitimizes my solo status. Is it not OK that I just am here to take care of myself? Take my body and emotional self out of my normal life and prepare for the changes that will occur when I do this. It’s easier to tell people I am a writer. I can go anywhere and do anything if I say Well, this will surely be a great addition to my story/book/magazine article.

“Awareness is curative” as Mary Hulnick would say. So I am aware. And I refuse to pick on myself another minute of the day. Perhaps I am just merely trying this out, this new coat, this new identity, the brave new world of Karen, post-graduate school courage tucked in my jeans pocket.

I’ll snap some digitals of the back patio, parlor, my bedroom. And off I go to horseback ride. I’ll tell Melissa that I am writing a book about solo women travel. That isn’t really what the book is about though. I mean I will be the solo woman traveler, but the subject and what it is about will not necessarily be the same. Anecdotes. Interview others who are living their dream, even if it just a portion of their dream. I want to come up with some questions. How did you come to do _____, Is there a deeper longing/purpose/meaning to this activity you are involved in, Are you aware of any synchronistic events that led to this choice/lifestyle. Tell me anything else you would like me know that might deepen my understanding (and perhaps yours as well) of what this activity/lifestyle choice means to you and others.

When was the last time I started letting these ideas flow like this? It is apparent to me, very clear, that I MUST write and by getting away, I afford myself this time and opportunity to allow Spirit to flow the words to me. What a joyful discovery.

2006-03-30T15:11:00.000-08:00

Theodore Woolsey House

2006-03-30T15:10:00.001-08:00

Plant-filled porch

2006-03-30T15:10:00.000-08:00

My breakfast nook

Horseback Riding in Ojai

2006-03-30T15:07:00.000-08:00

February 5, 2006

Melissa White ~ horseback riding in Ojai

This valley faces the foothills of Los Padres National Forest. I had the privilege of taking a 2 hour trail ride with Melissa White, horse owner (and manifester) extraordinaire. Before I even met her I knew we would hit it off. Sometimes a phone call is just that evident and transparent. I moseyed down in my brand new cowboy boots (not yet broken in on the range, only at USM and New Years...). My horse was Bo (or Bodacious if you will) while Melissa rode Willing Spirit. Both of these boys were her personal steeds and she talked to them like they were her kids. Tenderly and humorously with the MOM KNOWS BEST thrown in on occasion.

OH God but I love to ride. I told her about my saddle at home in my bedroom as well as the recent trip to Hawaii that included a family trail ride all over the Big Island. With a bit of coaxing Melissa began to tell her story and how she ended up with Western Trail Rides as a business. Taking notes was out of the question – as it was I could barely stop to snap photos – but I will attempt to convey her dream as it was told to me.

It was only a short 8 years ago Melissa began to take horse back riding lessons. As a young girl growing up in Santa Paula and Ojai, no doubt the smell of hay and sage began to beckon her toward this calling. But alas, her career as a teacher and administrator was the path she chose. What eventually drew her to the horse ring is not clear, but at 36 she traded her school teacher pumps for cowboy boots and took year long lessons. Educators love information and Melissa was riding and no doubt absorbing every inch of horse sense she could glean from her instructor. Before long every spare minute was spent at the Paradise Ranch, her weekly horse companion Bo would soon become her own horse for real. Joker (ne Willing Spirit) and McGinnis soon joined Bo and the beginnings of Western Trail Rides was born.

What made this experience so extraordinary for me? Was it Melissa’s vision for her business, her uncanny ability to name every flora and fauna on our 2 hour ride (watch out for the poison sumac, look at that button sage) or the twinkle in her voice as she described her ¾ acre purchase of her future home (now the boys can live with me!) I believe it was more than that. I felt inspired by her courage to test the limits of her faith by trusting that her passion would lead into a lucrative, soul satisfying business. Indeed, Melissa’s education and life experiences guided her toward fulfilling her life’s purpose: sharing nature and unconditional loving through animals with children’s camps and work-weary tourists. I left the stable with a lighter step and a renewed, reinforced belief that becoming conscious of and then living our dreams makes the journey here on Mother Earth a more graceful, grace-filled process.

2006-03-30T15:06:00.001-08:00

Stables

2006-03-30T15:06:00.000-08:00

Trial Master, Melissa

2006-03-30T15:05:00.000-08:00

Bo and me, forever friends

Dinner at Suzanne's

2006-03-30T15:02:00.000-08:00

Sunday, Feb 5, 2006

Though this doesn’t really count as a solo activity, I did have a wonderful night with my friends Joelene and Suzanne. We dined at a local lovely restaurant called Suzanne’s (no relation to my friend), sampling such taste treats as grilled vegetable salad, crusty fresh bread and butter, seafood and sweet desserts of three flavored mousse as well as a pineapple concoction topped with ice cream. At times I wonder if I have a bottomless pit for a stomach! No regrets here, it was scrumptious. As we eagerly caught up, each with new additions to add about our post grad-school lives, the couple next to us was experiencing their own super bowl of loud, silent communication. It wasn’t like I can eaves drop (my right ear is presently hearing challenged) but seriously it was almost impossible to dismiss the drama that was being played out at their table. As we three were roaring about some recent mishap with the male species, our neighbors carried out the patterns so familiar to me: blaming, reading the riot act, crying, the please-don’t-at-be-mad-at-me hug and the ever present silent screams. Painfully I recalled my own bumbling attempt to get my needs met while desperately wanting to make my partner wrong, suffer and take responsibility for my internal reactions. Hopelessly adrift in adult love and childhood patterning.

The three of us smiled our knowing smiles, blessing our dining neighbors and reminded how precious our woman-bond is. Self-forgiveness in tact, tracking projections in our tool box, we concluded that though the challenges are daunting, we are each still willing to put our big toes and whole souls into the next new relationship that Spirit sends our way.

2006-03-30T15:00:00.000-08:00

The Three Musketeers

Guilt Be Gone

2006-03-30T14:57:00.000-08:00

February 6, 2006

Ojai Valley Inn
The morning was spent hiking the Cozy Dell trail (half hour to the summit where a commanding 180 degree view took my breath away), gleefully consumed breakfast and off to the day of self care I went. Set up against the green lush foothills, surrounded by manicured golf courses, the Ojai Valley Spa was the next stop on my adventure. I admit a sense of unworthiness crept in. I am a master at catching these pesky little critters and quickly banished them to the land of self-forgiveness. What DID I do before the USM days (ate boxes of cookies and jars of peanut butter, that’s what I did). Having firmly agreed that I deserved this rest, relaxation and peace and quiet, I began to enjoy the solitude and the calm nurturing atmosphere here. I took a 15 minute lap swim in the outdoor pool and felt almost giddy in the experience. Feeling bad about taking a Monday off for lil ole me quickly transformed into wanting to pinch myself at my good fortune. I mean why don’t I write a book about THIS – what it would be like to live the very life I want and enjoy it. I think I’ll invent a spray called GUILT BE GONE.

After the swim I made my way up to the coed lounge waiting like a queen to be announced and presented to her next activity. A tall willowy blonde named Harmony (or course) came to fetch me and lead me to the Kuyam treatment palace. Here I would lay in a sauna-type room with colorful tile lounge chairs, cold cucumbered water, a near freezing lavendered washcloth for my forehead and a small wooden dish of mud. My Kuyam neighbor seemed to have no problem disrobing and smoothing the cool gushy compound all over her – and I mean all over her. OK fine, I was a hippy once, I can do this. She offered to cover my back and I did the same for her. It was actually a very sensual exercise. She reassured me that the mud would actually lift some of the bags out from under my eyes and I thought Now that’s a plus. We laid back in our perspective chairs and listened to the guided visualization. I pictured myself skating (my standard guided imagery), holding Glenda and Papa’s hands, surrounded and supported as I gracefully slid my skates from one side of the rink to the next. My body began to shrivel under the mud’s influence, even after Harmony lightly sprayed my face with rose water. At least I think it was Harmony and I believe it was rose water. By then I was drifting in and out of consciousness, thoroughly entrenched in my “place to rest together” (the meaning of Kuyam) experience. As I was led to the showers to begin the de-mudding process, I felt like I had just run 26.2 miles. Body and mind both altered, feet not quite planted and nothing much mattered. The mud ran down the drain leaving my skin as smooth as silk pajamas. I was in aromatherapy heaven. Shampoo, conditioner, body lotion all in sync, I walked out smelling like a sweet herb garden. Now it was nap time (hey, that was hard work!) A little snooze in the noontime sun, a turtle on a rock. I think we can learn something from turtles. I drank my peppermint tea and briefly wondered what activity I would slither over to next. Ah, the sauna. Dry or wet? The million dollar question. I decided to go the dry then wet route. Near-freezing washcloth in hand, I opened the dry sauna door and made myself comfortable on the bench. By now I am nude and loving it (I sound like Kramer on Seinfeld). 5 minutes was the recommended time so I stuck to that and barely got out alive. How much closer to Gumby legs can I get? Another nap was in order, a generous swig of cucumbered water and on to the wet room. Now this was a challenge. I was up to it but let me tell you when that steam came full force, I became one with the rainforest that was created in this room. Dripping with sweat, I pictured the mousse from the night before enthusiastically leaving my body making room for all the broccoli and green beans I would vow to feed it forever ahem. I gingerly rose up, found my lounge chair and hunkered down for my last bit of peace. I wondered what Jennifer Aniston was up to and briefly caught up with her in this week’s PEOPLE.

Before I left the sanctuary, I decided that maybe my book should chronicle a year of spa treatments. You know, like travel the country – no, the world - and try every treatment known to man. A facial in Poland, an herbal wrap in Switzerland, a Swedish massage in Sweden! Hike in the Rockies and conclude with a warm exfoliating/ aromatherapeutic mud session in Colorado. Settle into the Hot Springs in Vermont followed by an in-room shiatsu back massage (after pure maple syrup on my room-service pancakes of course). I think I am on to an idea, now to just be able to convince my accountant of the tax benefits…

2006-03-30T14:53:00.000-08:00

In-room spa

Time To Go Home

2006-03-30T14:51:00.000-08:00

February 7, 2006

I didn’t anticipate this feeling of malaise, disappointment or hesitancy as I prepare to re-enter my work/home/family life. I awoke with an active mind, eager to open my laptop and start this process again. I know now that this is not an ending after all, but the wonderful magical beginning of KAREN’S YEAR LONG 2006 ADVENTURE. Getting very comfortable with my solitude, I will plunge into what comes through this writing, enthusiastically anticipating the learnings, the newest experience and all discoveries to come. Gratitude is the central focus this morning, reminded what my ongoing purpose is: My purpose on Earth is to demonstrate peace, cooperation, forgiveness and healing, share loving and compassion, express exuberance, enthusiasm and joy as well as nurture, validate, prize and listen in a heartfelt way to everyone I meet and know. And it starts inside of me.

2006-03-30T14:49:00.000-08:00

My own patio sanctuary

The Emerald Isle, Here I Come 10/15/04

2005-04-24T07:10:00.000-07:00

Day 1

A quarter of a century has passed since I flew over to the European continent. 1979. 2004. How could so much time and life have passed? I wondered what changes aside from the introduction to the Euro would await me.

I am a marathon runner accustomed to traveling in search of the next adventure, the thrill of a new city, a different race course and perhaps a new out-of-state friend or two. Several events inspired me to explore new horizons and indulge my wanderlust in a more expansive way. I turned the other side of 50 and felt the nudge to move out of my comfort zone. I was tired of thinking and dreaming of a trip such as this. It was time to take action. My 24 year old son had ventured overseas on more than one occasion and encouraged me to take the leap.

Now to narrow my choices. I wanted to travel to a land I had never been to. The country would have to have a fairly well established fall marathon. I wanted to thoroughly research this venture with limited professional travel help. Utilizing my own ’travel agent’ savvy has come in handy for many out-of-state trips and I was eager to stretch my abilities further.

I compared notes with runners who had experienced the Dublin City Marathon and concluded that this particular international race would be a wise choice, indeed.

Months of researching websites, reading guidebooks and questioning fellow travelers rendered me more excited each day. My proud-to-be-an-American boyfriend grew increasingly enthusiastic as he anticipated his very first trip “across the pond.”

We diligently trained for the marathon, booked our flights, reserved our car and selected race day accommodations carefully. Thursday October 14 could not get here fast enough for my taste!
Bon Voyage
Ready or Not, World, Here I come!

I arrived at LAX as excited as a college student out for summer break. I wanted to tell everyone within earshot that I’m going to Dublin to run the marathon! Once I checked in and blessed my bags (Please dear God, have them arrive safely, my running shoes are in there!), I wandered to my boarding gate. I got a glimpse through the window of my ‘trusty steed’ a strong, SAFE Lufthansa 7something7, packing up the gear and ready to be boarded.

I looked around and noticed there were several people reading German periodicals and books. That made sense as we were flying through Frankfurt on my way to Dublin. I love this! I started to observe travel clothing and gear, especially the backpacks. Slots for water bottles, and clips to secure jackets and cameras. So clever and practical and hands free.

As we boarded, I was offered my choice of reading materials – USA Today, the Herald Tribune and a German newspaper. Oh yeah, I’m an international traveler now. If I was Ellen Degeneres, I would start to dance down the aisles!

I love hearing all the languages. The flight attendant was at least bilingual and in German asked what I wanted for dinner. My seatmates were French and asked for ”deux poulets”. I asked for the pasta (and blew my cover at that point). So much for my international mystique. I wanted to speak French to my neighbors but my shy personality (ok, my limited recall of my high school French) took over. I’ll brush up for the next trip, I promised myself.

It was an 11 hour flight to Frankfurt so I did a little reading and settled in for the evening. The head rests had little adjustable sides which cradled my head comfortably. The seat next to me was vacant which was a life saver for my 5’10” long legs as my seat back did not recline. I slept a few hours nonetheless and awoke to the fragrance of those heavenly lemony towels distributed to all the passengers. Wake up! Time to rise and shine.

I became so accustomed to hearing German, I really enjoyed this. I wanted to be able to read the signs. Once I arrived in Frankfurt, I made my way over to the next terminal preparing to fly to Dublin. I wanted to buy a German postcard but didn’t have time to exchange my money into Euros yet.

A quick hour and a half flight from the continent to the Emerald Isle. And was it ever green. Depending on whom you ask, rumor has it that there are up to 75 shades of green in Ireland.

The airport shuttle took me to the Dublin Airport Holiday Inn. I settled into my room, had a lovely room service dinner of savory vegetable soup and rolls and called it a night. Or day. Or whatever it was by then. I vowed to become acclimated to the time difference. I was too weary from the preparation and actual traveling to experiment with the trouser press (!) so going to bed sounded like a wise idea. I needed lots of sleep for tomorrow’s big adventure…right hand drive on the left-hand road!!

2005-04-23T18:44:00.001-07:00

My Trusty Steed Day 1

2005-04-23T17:02:00.000-07:00

Bye Bye USA Day 1

2005-04-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

Dublin in sight Day 1

Right Hand Drive ~ Left Hand Road 10/16/04

2005-04-22T13:53:00.000-07:00

Day 2

Steve arrived in Dublin mid-morning raring to start our Ireland driving adventure. We picked up our rental car, sat in the front seat trying to wrap our jet-lagged minds around how we would ever get accustomed to right hand drive on the left hand road! Brave Driver Steve took the wheel first as Excellent Navigator Karen reminded him to “stay toward the right”, “drive on the left”, “oh God, here comes a round-a-bout!” Whoever coined the phrase you can’t teach an old dog new tricks hasn’t met these two old dogs! Woof!!

Though Ireland is an English speaking country, we had some road-signage translating to do.
Dual Carriage Way = 2 Lane Highway
Overtake = To pass on a highway
Slow Bends = Curves ahead
Traffic Calming = Traffic slowing down
Getting Clamped = Parking monitors put a clamp on your wheels so you can’t drive away before the tow truck comes to TAKE you car away. Serious business those parking violations…

Our goal the first day could have been from a song I wrote except someone beat me to it. From Sea (Irish) to Shining Sea (Atlantic) was the theme as we made our way across the entire Emerald Isle. We followed the N6 highway from Dublin almost to Galway with a lunch stop in Moate. We ate at a traditional pub named Brownes that had bright red doors and the Guinness (of course) flag beckoning to all the passer-by. On our way back to the car a sign caught my eye proclaiming “Washed Roosters 5kg for 2.49”. So they wash their roosters here in Ireland and then sell them, do they? Steve, too curious to pass this up, snapped a photo of the shopkeeper and inquired about the sign that tickled us so. “Roosters, my lad, are Irish potatoes,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

All the pre-trip research I did recommended bed and breakfasts as the preferred accommodations. Ireland is famous for their friendly people and gracious hospitality so we were eager to arrive at our first destination. Proud of our navigational skills (OK, we did have to ask for directions a couple of times) we arrived in the town of Oranmore at Birchgrove Bed and Breakfast just in time to witness the loveliest bright yellow sunset. Pat and Mary Curren greeted us warmly, gave us a quick tour of their home and showed us to our room. We settled in for the night and I wondered if we’d have fried roosters for breakfast in the morning….

2005-04-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

Rooster Potato Man Day 2

2005-04-22T05:16:00.000-07:00

Oranmore Sunset Day 2

Galway, Cong & Clifden Excursion 10/17/04

2005-04-21T14:14:00.000-07:00

Day 3

Though the sun peaked out, the air was chilly and I was glad I wore my silk long johns! Mary prepared a scrumptious hot Irish breakfast that we ate in the cheery dining room. Over breakfast Pat updated us on the local economy and gave us some sightseeing tips to boot. An Australian family on a month long holiday was preparing to take their children on an all day sight-seeing excursion. Imagine their jet lag after a 24+ hour flight!

Steve and I packed up and headed to Galway City, our first destination of the day. Our decision to brown bag our lunches was a wise one as it gave us flexibility in our sight-seeing options. Going to an Irish grocery store was an education all its own. We weighed our own vegetables, attached the scanner label and discovered at the checkout that ecologically-inclined Ireland does not provide grocery bags! I thought this was a brilliant (I’m catching onto the lingo) example of conservation. Brings a new meaning to the word BYOB now doesn’t it. Come to think of it, I have seen scant amounts of litter on the country roads or the city streets.

Yesterday was spent just getting acclimated to the left hand drive, reading the road signs and negotiating the roundabouts. We did both come to the conclusion that I’m a much better navigator than driver and Steve doesn’t bump into curbs the way that I do but we might end up in China if we follow his map. So good, with that straight we set out to enjoy the views and make our way toward Clifden with me directing and Steve chauffeuring.

Though we took so many pictures, I’m sure they will never truly capture the beauty of this country. The crisp, clean air never has a moment to be anything but fresh, what with the frequent rain and the breezes blowing. A photo op presented itself at Oughterard, home of babbling brooks and fragrant pine trees. I dare say some of these sights reminded me of the Pacific Northwest with the lush vegetation and water water everywhere. The farther into the country we traveled, the more I experienced serenity and peace that only nature can provide.
Maybe I missed my calling, but those sheep (and there were a lot of them) were so cute! I never grew tired of seeing them grazing and milling about in the many meadows we drove by.

Our next stop was Ashford Castle which was once owned by the Guinness beer family. We strolled down the most pleasant forested lane which led to enormous green grounds of the castle itself. Stopping for a spot of tea, we soaked in the beauty and the history of the site and admired the panoramic view as well.

Ah yes, the pot of gold at the end of those rainbows! We managed to capture the first one on film while on the drive to Cong Abbey. I was certain a leprechaun was just waiting for us to discover him. Steve swore he was probably eating Lucky Charms cereal. Pink hearts, yellow moons….

The town of Cong is famous on two counts. John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara filmed The Quiet Man here 50 years ago. We came to see the Gothic/ Romanesque style ruins of Cong Abbey. Built in the late 1100’s, the high mass commonly had a procession of Augustinian monks. We could sense the history here as we walked through the cemetery and gazed upon the ancient walls and arches.

Moo-ve cows, will you moo-ve!!?? Check out the rush hour traffic! Frankly, I think they were rather perturbed that we would dare try to share their road. What a life eating lush Irish grass and chewing their Irish cud. Cows and sheep, cows and sheep, if they aren’t the national animals, they should be.
Once back in Clifden, we came upon the incredible Abbeyglen Castle, built in 1832 by John d'Arcy. He founded the town of Clifden in 1812, and was considered a leader of the community who was frequently consulted by the local constabulary in time of trouble or unrest. Following d'Arcy's death, his son Mitchen sold the property to the Irish Church Mission Society in 1854. As a result of the Famine the estate hit troubled times and the property fell derelict. In 1969, the Joyce family owners sold the property to the Hughes family, who through the years has improved the castle and gardens to their present state.
The grounds were expansive and La-de-dah - our room was a suite with a fireplace, sitting room and four poster bed. Queen Karen I called myself. Off with their heads! Just give me a little power and look what happens to me! At least Gilbert, the wonder parrot wasn’t afraid of little ole me. Perhaps he looks shy in this picture, but trust me, when I turned to head to the dining room, he’d screech past his lung capacity!

2005-04-20T11:23:00.000-07:00

Stream in Oughterard Day 3

2005-04-20T10:24:00.000-07:00

Ashford Castle Day 3

2005-04-20T07:24:00.000-07:00

Cong Abbey Day 3

2005-04-20T06:25:00.000-07:00

Commuters Day 3

Sunshine, Roundabouts & Steep, Stunning Cliffs 10/18/04

2005-04-20T02:37:00.000-07:00

Day 4

We awoke to sunshine and blue skies. Who would have thought I would need my California sunglasses in (what we anticipated as) rainy, dreary Ireland? While inhaling the intoxicatingly clean air, I just wanted to sing at the top of my lungs…Yoda–loda-lay-eee–oooo!!

The Connemara area is a “stunning patchwork of rusty bogs, lonely valleys, pale green mountains and small black lakes” (Lonely Planet guidebook) and we drove through it on the way to Kylemore Abbey. The Twelve Bens (or Twelve Pins) are a series of mountains that pierce the sky with their hard majestic quartzite peaks. Looked like some awesome hiking country.

Kylemore Abbey reminded me of some East Coast preparatory school in my very distant past. It had been converted from a Benedictine Convent, in fact, into an exclusive girls’ boarding school and during our visit we saw many of the uniformed girls preparing for their next class. Ah, brings me back to the days of Miss Masters School for Girls….The school sits on a stunning lake and this particular day the sun glimmered and glistened upon it.

Our driving and navigational skills improved in leaps and bounds if I do say so myself – and I do! We loved the round-abouts the best. It reminded me of something Disneyland would conceive of. I pictured Alice in Wonderland and the White Rabbit in one car, Goofy and Pluto in the next waving and honking to each other. The round-abouts seemed to replace the need for street lights and kept the flow of traffic very efficient. The signage at each ‘intersection’ was so clear that even if we missed our exit, we just kept going around and around until we came upon it again. A carousel and the Mad Hatter Teaparty Teacups all in one. Like I said, Disneyland….

We passed through the bleak hilly ground called the Burren in the northwest corner of County Clare. The limestone pavements carry deep cracks that trap water, sun and soil fragments making them ideal hothouses for plants. The variety of the landscape was breathtaking. I could only imagine what this looks like in wildflower season.

As I read the guidebooks and map description of the Cliffs of Moher, I began to conjure up this majestic, massive stone structure towering over a raging sea. The reality far surpassed my anticipation. The view literally took my breath away. After I began to breathe easily again, I just started to cry. Had I been here before? Why was this so familiar to me? All I knew was it was the most spectacular, magnificent sight I had ever seen.

These majestic cliffs rise from the Atlantic Ocean to a height of nearly 200m and extend for a distance from Hag's Head due west to a point beyond O'Brien's Tower. They take their name from a ruined promontory fort, Mothar, which was demolished during the Napoleonic wars to make room for a signal tower. We were so fortunate to arrive on a crystal clear, uncrowded day. Tourists flock here in the summer and wind and fog conditions can literally shut down the natural attraction in the winter. Ah, the luck of the Irish was with us. We huddled up together as we climbed the road to O’Brien’s Tower, drinking in the view of the ocean, the craggy ridges of the cliffs and the occasional bird who would soar over head completing our personal picture- perfect postcard.

Our sojourn to Bunratty castle to eat at Kathleen’s (a suggestion from several friends) to experience a traditional Irish dinner and show was a bust. The show is not performed without a group of 50 or more. Ah, the price we paid for traveling off season. We drove to the town of Adare, had some fish and chips at a local restaurant and settled into our farmhouse B&B for the night.

2005-04-19T22:31:00.000-07:00

Abbeyglen Castle Day 4

2005-04-19T21:32:00.000-07:00

Kylemore Abbey Day 4

2005-04-19T18:32:00.000-07:00

The Burren Day 4

2005-04-19T16:33:00.000-07:00

Cliffs of Moher Day 4

Adare, Conair Pass & Dingle Town 10/19/04

2005-04-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

Day 5

I have never taken an overseas trip without turning my life and my will over to either a parent, a travel agent or someone’s well-traveled secretary. This trip was a confidence booster in a variety of ways. Both Steve and I read various guidebooks, asked globe-trotting friends and family for their suggestions, sought council from AAA, scoured the internet and then began to trust our experiences and instincts. Our decision to trade warm weather and crowds at the tourist sights for an unpredictable climate, a few closed shops but relatively sparse crowds at all the attractions we visited was a wise one.

Fancying ourselves as quite the seasoned travelers, our stop in Adare was rather spontaneous. Stopping in Adare was on our rather loosey-goosey agenda but we didn’t have reservations ahead of time so that constitutes spontaneous in my book. Thumbing through our Irish Farmhouse book, we came upon Laccabawn B & B, a beef and barley (cereal) farm set on 100 acres of prime Irish land. Our proprietress Hazel Fitzgerald was a gracious if rather serious hostess. Her home was impeccably decorated, and the dining area and salon had a calming ambiance. This was our favorite accommodation so far.

Another crystal clear blue sky greeted us and we couldn’t depart without a photo with the infamous Laccabawn cows and a glimpse of a thatched stone cottage. Adare is the quaintest village and I wondered if Snow White with Sleepy or Sneezy would meander out to sign autographs anytime soon. Guess I had Disneyland on the brain yet again… The world is our oyster and Hazel suggested a drive through the Conair Pass as our pearl. We had not read about this gem of a drive in any of our guidebooks but she insisted it was the grandest way to experience the spectacular views into Dingle Harbor. Tralee Bay at the base of the pass boasted crisp white waves. On up the road we did pass several vehicles sporting surfboards on their roofs.

Burly workers with their bulldozers and dump trucks grinned (or was it smirked) as our little putt putt of a car chugged up the steep and rocky narrow asphalt hill. It appeared that work was being done to widen the road, a wise idea since it was barely passable for one car let alone two.

The higher we climbed the more spectacular the view became. This time we encountered “blue” sheep peacefully gnawing on the fresh mountain grass, oblivious to our photography or my exuberance upon seeing yet another flock of sheep. Oh, I just wanted to squeeze them all. Major squish factor as my kids would say. Steve found a fast moving waterfall for his photo op and I posed for my “top of the world” shot made famous on our trip to Orcas Island last summer. Panoramic views stir something deep within me that make me want to shout from the rooftops.

Conair Pass really was exquisite. It had a Kauai feel to it though on a grander, colder scale. Snowy mountain peaks and ocean views, lakes and meadows, sheep nesting in the boggy marshland and craggy rocks, salty fresh air swirling in the windy chill sums up the sort of terrain we braved, so grateful to have been led to such a place. A German couple shivering a bit in their boots was kind enough to snap one more digital at the peak of the pass minutes before we headed down to Dingle Harbor.

Once in the town we parked and wandered up the main street toward the Tourist Information (TI) building. Many of the cities and towns have TI’s that serve as a way station for out-of-towners providing maps, postcards and souvenirs for sale as well as knowledgeable people to help the tourists get acclimated. We made a quick stop at the grocery store to load up on lunch supplies before heading to the linens store to ooh and ahh at the delicate lacy napkins and hand- sewn table runners. I couldn’t resist and made a few purchases for family members back home.

Another rainbow gently graced the sky as we drove to our next night’s home away from home. Passing a large recycling center in the middle of town, I was once more awed by Ireland’s attention to detail when it comes to ecological concerns. Rows of bins for cans and glass items lined the parking lot beckoning townspeople to recycle those Guinness bottles and cans!

Cill Bbreac B & B set on the beaten track with a lovely waterfront view to the west and the back of Conair Pass to the rear. Our seafood dinner at Fenton’s was expensive though quite tasty. We were eager to experience some traditional Irish dancing and music after our meal but we petered out before the 9:30 show at the local pub. It had been a long day of driving, the temperature dropped considerably so we opted for our cozy, toasty warm bed instead.

2005-04-17T21:08:00.000-07:00

Us with the cows Day 5

2005-04-15T21:09:00.000-07:00

Tralee Bay Day 5

2005-04-14T21:09:00.000-07:00

SHEEP! Day 5

2005-04-14T02:08:00.000-07:00

Top of Conair Pass Day 5

Dingle Peninsula, Killarney, Blarney 10/20/04

2005-04-13T09:58:00.000-07:00

Day 6

“Is that frost on the backyard grass?” I asked Steve as we prepared for our all day Peninsula drive. Brrrrr. Well, last night the temperature in our car did register 3 degrees Celsius. And this morning a couple of savvy gals from Minnesota were pouring warm water on their windshield to melt the ice crystals??? Nothing new to them, they said this is mild weather compared to the Midwest! Undeterred by the weather, we bundled up and headed out, prepared as two Southern Californians can be!

I had read so much about the Dingle Peninsula Drive. Most of the guide books highly recommended this as a day long excursion with lots of time to explore and absorb the historical and natural value. The remarkable landscape is punctuated by ringforts, beehive stone huts, standing stone and curving bays with long golden beaches.

We followed Rick Steve’s “circular tour by bike or by car” from his guide book. He even told us where to set the odometer and each point of interest was easy to locate.

Steve and I had our favorite stops and took advantage of the wonderful off season non-congested roads. I’m sure August would be another story but we toodled along with nary an impatient driver beckoning us to speed up or pull over.

Dingle feels so traditionally Irish because it’s a “Gael Tacht” (a region when the government subsidizes the survival of the Irish language and culture.) Though English is always spoken there, many of the signs and menus come in Gaelic. The first sign we came upon translated to “Go slowly”.

The pink building was a grammar school teaming with fresh faced youngsters at recess. The stonehouse restaurant was remarkable with each stone carefully detailed and placed. It reminded me of all the stone walls we saw in each of the counties we have traveled through so far. Those walls are free standing and not mortared so they can be quickly disassembled to let the cows and sheep pass through.

Dunbeg Fort was a promontory hill fort used as a refuge of last resort during the celtic invasion. The dates are all in question but the literature guesses it was inhabited in the 10th or 11th centuries. The “clochans” – or igloo shaped buildings – resemble beehives and liberally litter the hillside along the Dingle Peninsula Drive.

We had our photo taken on a cliff with the Great Blasket Islands as the majestic background. They are no longer inhabited due to harsh, remote conditions. Dunmore Head is the westernmost point in Europe and just beyond that, a gorgeous beach that was the central location of the 1970’s movie Ryan’s Daughter.

Dunquin Harbor lays quietly in front of the “Three Sisters” mountain range. If you look closely, you can spot the island that resembles a “Sleeping Giant” to the right. During the great potato famine in Ireland, many of the homes in Dunquin Harbor were abandoned. Up this hillside is the first bit of land Charles Lindberg gazed upon after crossing the Atlantic on his way to Paris in 1927. It is called Mt. Eagle and the story goes that the villagers were as excited as he was since they had never seen anything so big in the air before!

We were intrigued by the playful pastel-colored buildings in the town of Dunquin Harbor. Traditionally the stores and such were drab gray or whitewashed. Apparently 30 years ago a competition prompted everyone to paint their buildings, the merrier the better!

Our peninsula tour came to a close but not before another group of “commuters” greeted us. This time they brought along their “guide” presumably to set the pace?!

Both Steve and I were getting rather edgy having been cooped up in the car for the better part of 2 days so we were eager to head out to Muckross House and walk around this renowned estate on the edge of Killarney National Park. A light rain stayed with us most of the drive there and the temperature felt cool and crisp. Once we arrived, a brisk hike to the Abbey sounded like a fine idea to get the blood pumping and the car legs refreshed. Our California boy refused to succumb to a coat though it did turn a bit nippy!

The grounds were splendid and lush. Queen Victoria had excellent taste as she stayed in the mansion back in 1861 (on the ground floor because it is said that she was afraid of fires!). We didn’t tour the Muckross Traditional Farms or the inside of the House but it was lovely and definitely worth a longer visit. Prepare for the weather and the walking tours would be pleasant as well.

The steady rain and our challenging navigational skills convinced us from attempting to drive to the coastal town of Kinsale this afternoon so instead we headed over to Blarney. Our third rainbow of the trip gallantly appeared overhead and I took it as a clear sign we had made a wise decision.

We must have looked rather hungry and weary upon arrival at the Pineforest Bed and Breakfast because our proprietress immediately directed us to the Blair Inn for a warm dinner meal. Oh Lordy, I had the BEST Irish stew (called Murphy stew) while sitting in the coziest of pubs, warm, homey, reminiscent of a long lost friend’s living room. And get this – one of the locals sidled up to the bar and ordered a BUDWEISER. What, no Guinness? Steve was tickled, it is his favorite beer back home. I wanted to sleep soundly because tomorrow…drum roll please…Steve will receive the gift of gab at the Blarney Stone. It may be a LONG time before I can get a word in edgewise again. :~)

2005-04-12T10:39:00.000-07:00

"Go slowly" in Gaelic Day 6

2005-04-11T10:37:00.000-07:00

Stone House Day 6

2005-04-09T10:38:00.000-07:00

Great Blasket Islands Day 6

2005-04-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

Colorful storefronts Day 6

2005-04-07T10:37:00.000-07:00

Freezing Boy at Muckross House Day 6

Blarney, Kinsale and onto Duala (near Cashel) 10/21/04

2005-04-06T12:46:00.000-07:00

Day 7

One of the many joys of staying at these welcoming bed and breakfast accommodations is the interesting people we meet, usually at our morning meal together. Typically over breakfast, we compare travel notes, recommend or receive an interesting excursion tip or simply share something unique to our upbringing or country. A German family with 2 school age boys was exploring the Irish countryside during the boys’ school holiday. As we chatted one morning I was intrigued with the Dad’s command of both English and German. Though it is common knowledge that Europeans tend to learn English as a second language in primary school, I asked him where he learned English so fluently. He assured me that though he had taken English in school, a 10 year lapse occurred before he began to practice again. Hearing how confident he was as he conversed gave me the hope that my 30 year ‘recess’ from French is stored somewhere in the language-lobe of my brain, ready to burst through at any moment!

The ease with which I can strike up a conversation with a fellow traveler will prove to be an asset as I enter the world of travel writing. I feel so encouraged and alive with each new acquaintance I make. My newest affirmation is I AM a fluent, articulate and observant freelance travel writer, sharing my exuberance and enthusiasm in written and spoken word with all the world! What do you think Oprah, are you ready for me yet?

Our first morning in Blarney was blustery! Thunder and lightening with occasional heavy rain showers greeted us at breakfast. Steve had his heart set on kissing that Blarney Stone so after our morning chit chat with a family from the East Coast, we dressed rain-gear ready and packed up the car yet again. The driveway was lined with fresh sweet flowers and plants that seem to drink in and thrive in such moist surroundings.

Blarney Castle was a short drive away and once inside the grounds, I felt transported to my high school days in residential New York. An abundance of colorful fall leaves, a welcoming meadow rich with dewy green grass and a swift, clear stream surrounded the 15th century castle. We began the long rather arduous ascent up to the actual spot where the infamous stone is positioned. The stairwells were tight and ceilings short and I concluded that the people in the 1600’s were far shorter than we are these days.

Once Steve settled himself next to the stone with the help of the attendant, I snapped his photo while trying to keep the camera (and me) dry! His dream of kissing the Blarney Stone now realized, I waited to see if he would eloquently begin to recite the Declaration of Independence or at least the last 10 Super Bowl winners. So far no change but perhaps the magic takes a day or two to catch on…

Amazingly enough, as we strolled back through the rest of the grounds of the castle and reached our car, the sun poured out and brightened the green countryside even more exquisitely. There is nothing quite as beautiful as Ireland in-between rainstorms! Car-picnic prepared, driving map in hand, sunglasses situated on the nose and we headed south toward the ancient fishing village of Kinsale.

The countryside meandered around the big city of Cork and became a vision of meadows, vast acres of horse property and stunning lush green hillsides. We got a tad lost (we can now admit this happened every day) but recouped our lost time and got back on track without an abundance of frustrated sighing or rolling of the eyes.

As we came into Kinsale it was clear that this would be a pleasure to behold indeed. It is an old quaint seaport with windy narrow roads, an active fishing harbor teaming with sailing vessels, fishing dories and pleasure boats and is a popular summer resort town not unlike my home of Seal Beach with jet skiing, windsurfing and even surfing in some spots. Don’t you find it hard to imagine the water temperature without shivering? We did see a VW van with a surfboard on it as we traveled up the Conair Pass in Dingle so I guess the diehard surfers will go wherever the waves call them.

As we explored the town, a particular street caught our attention. The two lanes were more like one so we actually needed to honk to alert the other drivers coming down this street that we were coming up! Pity the poor neighbors who endure this honking fiesta day after day. Shops painted in those cheerful colors we were becoming accustomed to seeing dotted the village as we meandered into a bookstore and sporting goods store. St. Mary’s church and Desmond Castle were two tourist sites we passed as well as the guidebook-recommended Fishy Fishy Café. This place must swarm with summer loving tourists in July and August.

Motoring up the highway once again, this time going north, it occurred to me that I take the “buffet” approach to tourism. Choose from a large assortment of the offerings and take a bite or two of each without getting that full feeling. Leave the table satisfied yet wanting to come back for more another time. Each historical and cultural point of interest we experienced satisfied us for now with the hopes and dreams of returning for a more in-depth look in the future.

By late afternoon, we glimpsed the magnificent medieval looking Rock of Cashel as our car climbed the hill overlooking a fairly populated town of Cashel itself. Touring this interesting site would have to wait until morning since our day was coming to a close and it was that time again to search for bed and food. This night’s home named Tir Na Nog (Gaelic for Fountain of Youth) nestled in the small superb of Duala, a 10 minute drive from the Rock. Our proprietor Tommy greeted us with one of the thickest Gaelic accents I had heard so far this trip. He looked a bit weary, he did. Imagine having new visitors 7 days a week, with the cooking and cleaning necessary to run this establishment and care for your family as well. I wondered if the innkeepers give themselves a vacation – maybe stay at someone else’s B & B??!

Dinner was at the Kearny Castle Hotel, a rather non-descript place not unlike a Denny’s or Woolworth’s stateside. One unique custom the restaurants practice here is to bring an entire pitcher when you request a glass of water. I loved the endless supply plus it saved the waiter multiple trips to fill our water glasses.

Trips to the food markets reminded us that Ireland has yet another way to preserve their resources and environment. Patrons must pay for bags, plastic or paper! BYOB or you walk home, arms piled high with loaves of bread, blocks of cheese and bottles of milk. Simple perhaps, yet profound effect on their landfills I bet.

Steve set the intention to dream of egg nog (his nickname for our B & B Tir Na Nog) and I drifted off with visions of the fairy tale Robin Hood and Maid Marion. I wonder if I could buy one of those long silky princess head pieces or veil at the Rock of Cashel tomorrow?

2005-04-05T23:06:00.000-07:00

Kiss that Blarney Stone Day 7

2005-04-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

View of Blarney Castle grounds Day 7

2005-04-04T13:03:00.000-07:00

Narrow street in Kinsale Day 7

2005-04-02T13:02:00.000-08:00

Kinsale Harbor Day 7

Cashel, Kilkenny and Rathmore 10/22/04

2005-03-31T15:59:00.000-08:00

Day 8

Our morning began with a high spirited conversation with a gentleman from Boston, traveling with his brother to visit distant relatives in County Antrim. I swear he resembled Walter Matthau in looks and mannerisms and had indeed lived in the Bronx of NYC. What an interesting man. As a former military career man, he had traveled to every state in the U.S., every continent on the planet and lost several New York friends in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. We admired his bright green cable knit sweater which he bought while souvenir shopping earlier in the week. The color of his garment touched off an exchange with the proprietress of our B & B who claimed Ireland boasts 75 shades of green, not the conservative count of 45 – 60 most guidebooks declare. I felt both blessed and grateful talking with this fellow traveler, charmed by his storytelling and intrigued by his unique life lessons. I knew that at that moment I, too, was creating my own stories to be retold again and again.

Packing up to leave Tir Na Nog, we glanced out our back window and witnessed a Momma cat and her hungry kittens lapping up some milk and canned food. This is a home after all, with children and their pets amidst the other guests, busy kitchens and even busier parents. This scene reinforced my preference for bed and breakfasts for their cozy, homey ambiance.

Driving up to the Rock of Cashel, we understood why it is called one of Ireland’s most historical, provocative and majestic sights. It overlooks the Plains of Tipperary surrounded by fields of (you guessed it) pristine, green grass. Built in the early 400’s, it was once the seat of ancient kings, later becoming an ecclesiastical center after Cashel was taken over by the church.

We took the tour which I highly recommend for the historical value and the wonderful accent of the guide! The round tower was built in the 12th century as was the small Romanesque Chapel. Our guide informed us that the members of the choir were considered higher status than the patrons of the church and thus allowed to sit near the archbishop during the Gothic Cathedral services. Overcast skies and misty rain made the Celtic-cross graveyard that much more eerie. We were told the lights illuminate the Rock at night which I am sure must be quite a sight.

But cheerio, no waiting around for nightfall for these two adventurers. We set off in the direction of the town and castle of Kilkenny. The raindrops were the size of nickels and the sky matched the gray in my sweater. We dashed between drops to a local Christmas ornament shop to purchase a disc parking pass. It looked more like a lottery ticket than a parking pass to me but hey, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Kilkenny Castle grounds were expansive with flourishing green fields and leaves of yellow and orange gracing the trees. The tour of the castle was guided by a knowledgeable English gal. I could be wrong but I think the English accent makes them appear more learned or intellectual. Raallllly dahling as my sister would say.

The powerful Butler family owned the castle for nearly 600 years and the descendants eventually sold most of the furniture at auctions and the fortress itself to the city for a mere 50 pounds! What a steal. We strolled through the long gallery which featured an abundance of artwork including portraits of the founding family. After our tour ended we walked through the town of once medieval establishments that are now colorful modern shops, churches and residential buildings.

This was our last night before heading to Dublin and we considered a novel tip from a fellow traveler with respect to choosing our final accommodation. He suggested bringing the standard Bed and Breakfast Guide anyone can secure at a TI (tourist information)booth. Go to a local well-attended pub. Open the page to the area you wish to stay in and ask the bartender for his recommendation. Figuring his connections are fairly high-status in Guinness Country, he wouldn’t steer you wrong!

As reasonable as this idea sounded, I had my own standards to uphold. My criteria could be called unconventional but by now I longed to surround myself with sheep. Yup, just bring on the bah, bah, bah. Blame it on my new merino wool sweater, attribute it to my old petsitter days but I yearned to throw suburb life to the wind (at least for the night) and sleep with the sheep.

On our nearly 1000 mile trip across and back this grand Ireland Republic, we did encounter herds of cows and flocks of sheep. Each sighting caused spontaneous cries of “Sheep!!...Cows!!!...Sheep!...More Sheep!....” along with an irrepressible giggle or two. Maybe that Little Bo Peep costume from my teaching days was a hint of things to come after all. Ask Steve but I wouldn’t doubt I talked in my sleep with a bah thrown in as part of my dreamy conversation!

A brief peruse of the B&B guide, an even shorter phone call and we were led to the town of Rathmore, a village truly off the beaten path yet only 30 miles from Dublin. Though the rain and darkness made it challenging to appreciate the rural scenery, we did catch glimpses of blossoming trees framing the roads and meadows dotted with few and far between homes.

Springfield B & B proved to be my favorite of all the stays. Margaret, our gracious hostess, informed us that we had the house to ourselves as late October typically signals the beginning of their slower tourist season. Steve was distracted and drawn to a photo hanging in the hall corridor. Not wanting to disappoint me but curious nonetheless, he quietly surveyed the picture of an aerial shot of a large flock of sheep grazing in an even larger meadow. No caption or year on the picture could confirm his suspicions that my dream was at last coming true.

Margaret had retired for the night so we followed her lead with our curiosity tucked in bed along with our sleepy heads. And no, I didn’t count sheep to help me fall asleep though that would have been a hilarious addition to this story!

2005-03-31T07:36:00.000-08:00

Tir Na Nog B&B near Cashel Day 8

2005-03-31T05:34:00.000-08:00

Rock of Cashel Day 8

2005-03-30T17:32:00.000-08:00

Fountain at Kilkenny Castle Day 8

2005-03-29T17:34:00.000-08:00

Kilkenny Castle Day 8

Rathmore and Dublin 10/23/04

2005-03-26T19:24:00.000-08:00

Day 9

If there is a Heaven on Earth, its name is Springfield B & B Sheep farm! Yes, it’s true, and ask me how I know and I’ll tell you to just look out the back ‘yard’ window. Not only are there sheep but also chickens, ducks and a couple of friendly dogs named Holly and Meg. I sat through our delightful breakfast with the anticipation of a kid getting ready to go to Disneyland. As eager as I was to explore what awaited me by the backyard barn, I had a sense this breakfast was an event to be experienced.

Our breakfast table faced the side yard full of thriving fragrant flowers and plants. The fuchsia bushes grow wild here and we saw miles of these dainty pink flowers along the roadsides on the Dingle Peninsula drive. The scenery added to the wonder of the meal we were about to receive. I guessed the fresh purplish jam served with our toast to be gooseberry but it turned out to be “damsel” berry, a plum-like fruit. My muesli served with banana and milk hit the spot. The best treat of all was the poached eggs with the deepest yellow center I had ever seen. Fresh from the Springfield B&B Farmhouse chickens alright!

Steve had an epiphany when he discovered the reason little flecks of coffee grounds kept floating in his coffee cup each morning. Unbeknownst to him, each coffee pot has a press to assist the grounds from leaving their designated ‘homeland’. Once he learned to compress the press, well, the grounds stayed put!

As an FYI: The Irish love their food and beverages served piping hot so once the water is boiled on the ‘solid heating’ (electric) stove, it is brought promptly to the table and covered with a tea cozy to hold in the heat. Margaret told us that hot soup is only served in the cold months here and expressed her surprise when on her trip to Vancouver one summer, soup was actually offered on the menu! She also said that European visitors like their food served at a much more tepid temperature.

I was about to have an education that rivals any 4 year college I’d ever attended. Willy, Margaret’s husband, greeted us as we ambled by the haystacks and entered the wonderland of farm animals. He regaled us with stories about adopting Bandy, their pet sheep who comes when she is called like one of my dogs at home. The sheep that wondered about their farm were mostly ‘shaggy’ sheep and are the most common ones you will see in Ireland. There are also ‘minority’ sheep, less popular and are bred with the shaggy sheep. He had one or two of the minority sheep in a pen with Bandy.

If I ever write a book about Willy it will be named “Willy’s Wisdom”. He introduced us to the term “fear sensitive.” If the ducks see you catching one of their own, they get scared and lose weight to presumably prevent themselves from being slaughtered and turned into a “table duck.” Amazing survival technique, don’t you think? Ducks are mean and aggressive with the chickens so they tend to stay in separate pens.

Willy also filled us in on a little Guinness family history. Artie Guinness is buried “just over there” (he pointed to the distance) in a 33 acre plot of Dublin land. He was quite the “chancer” (risk taker) who knew a good idea when he had one and went on to build a very successful company with strong family values and loyal employees.

I could have listened to Willy all day as he was so full of good cheer and information. Instead, however, we sadly bid farewell to our rural existence, as marathon day approached and we must travel to Dublin. I vowed to return and perhaps spend several days as a farmhand. Anything is possible, I always say.

A half hour or so later we were circling the Dublin airport about to return our car. No surprise to me but we had to purchase a replacement “tyre” for our rental vehicle. Must have been all those curbs I kept hitting before Steve realized I make a much better navigator. Ah well, live and learn. Once the car was dropped off, we caught the air coach to our Dublin hotel called the Gresham, settling into our home away from home for the next four nights.

I am so glad we visited the countryside and experienced the culture, history, people, food and weather. We are now fully acclimated to our marathon home and prepared to tackle the formidable 26.2 mile race.