Failte!

Having biked halfway across southern Ireland, we find ourselves in the lovely city of Cork! Our time here has been amaaaaaazing -- the people are incredibly kind and warm, the food is delicious (comfort food! yum!), and the scenery is as beautiful as all those cheesy commercials you've ever seen.
So, picking back up where I left off...
A grand learning experience
May I just say here that Joe and I know relatively little about Ireland coming into this, so we have few preconceived notions and we're learning a whole lot just by winging it!

Interesting facts we've learned so far:
- only 4-5 million people live in this wee country
- speaking of wee: it would be ranked 40th in terms of size by land mass were it a US state -- just slightly smaller than Maine
- all Irish people learn Irish in school (along with English) as their first "foreign" language
- Ireland gained its independence in 1924, BUT anyone born up until 1948 could still obtain a British passport
- Towns are lively and are still the center of life, with beautiful, brightly painted shops and people bustling all over the place (store fronts in red, green, yellow, blue, white...!) -- BUT there is some mad urban sprawl going on here, much more than we expected, plus major box stores like Tesco (similar to Walmart), and people we've spoken to here are afraid of the same sprawl that the states has suffered
- Young men pimp out their cars here, as they do in the states, but not in France
- Stores are open on Sundays! We can get food whenever we want!

The friendliest people ever
We have met more kind people who go out of their way to help us, with a smile and a wink! Our first evening, a dog started menacing us a bit on a back road, when a car pulled up. The woman rolled down her window and said to Joe, "Just say 'Good boy, good boy!' and he'll leave you alone." After the car had pulled away a few meters past us, they opened the door to the car and whistled to the dog to lure him away from us.

Camping
Furthermore, we've had absolutely no problem camping anywhere. If people don't want you camping in their fields, they post signs to that effect, but otherwise they're more than happy to let us camp for the night, so long as we clean up after ourselves.

July 18 -- Day 23
The hardest thing to find in Ireland...
...is the local tourism office! Our first morning, we biked into Wexford in search of good topographical maps (which we weren't able to find in France...or in Ireland, for that matter) and info about the local area. We biked back and forth around the city for quite some time, up and down the quai (pronounced "key" here -- I had to ask what a kee was, actually, the first time I got directions) until we saw this little modernist building, all smooth concrete and glass. Here we bought a great little book by Brendan Walsh, Cycle Touring Ireland, that outlined biking trips around Ireland, and includes valuable info for folks like us, such as distance, number of hills (!), and things of interest in the area (we must say, it's useful only to a point, as Mr. Walsh writes for people who aren't carrying 1/5 of their body weight around in bags strapped to the backs of their bikes).

Failte!
This means "Welcome!" in Irish!

We wandered around Wexford a bit, where we encountered town life for the first time. It's on a rather small scale, brightly colored, with people everywhere! Here, we must recall our anglo-saxon manners and not step right in front of people, as we've learned to do in Paris. Everyone says "Hi!" or "Hello!" or "How are ya!" (that last one isn't really a question, I think).

Yumminess!
We found a fantastic small street market selling local organic products, where we bought a local mild-tasting hard cheese called Carlow (after the town it's from), into which was mixed nettle (which tastes better than it feels when brushed up against your leg!), which gave it a slightly sweet taste. We also bought a loaf of homemade brown soda bread. "It's got no preservatives of any kind, and the bran keeps the bread fresh and moist longer," the woman gladly told me. She also wrote the ingredients out for me on the bag: flour, wheaten meal, bran, bread soda, salt, and buttermilk. It yields a bread that's heavy and hearty, yet very healthy and full of fiber, with a texture and slight sweetness that reminds me of cornbread. "My daughter lives in Australia," she went on, "and she says she can't find wheaten meal there, so perhaps it's hard to make it abroad." Any takers?

Liberty Tree
In the center of town was planted an oak tree called a "Liberty Tree," around which, carved in the stone, it was said to have been planted by the (female) president of Ireland in 1998. A nearby stone plaque contained a quote by Thomas Carlyle (c. 1850), in which he urged his fellow Irishmen to think twice before dying for their country, and rather to "plant a liberty tree." A few meters away, a quote from Thomas Payne very poetically likened various nations' realization of basic human rights to trees budding in the woods -- some may bud sooner than others, but all are awakening, he said.

"They actually use their church!"
Joe exclaimed. Sure enough, people were coming and going from it quite regularly, which is a bit of shocker after the ornamental pieces we're used to seeing around France. Being in the center of town, we were impressed by the church's charging for parking in their lot -- now that's a fundraiser! We ate lunch and I sewed up my jeans ("It's rather zen!"), then we turned left out of the church and down to Distillery Street a block or so away in search of recycling bins.

The second hardest thing to find in Ireland...
are recycling bins. We've carried our tin cans, glass bottles, plastic, and paper for days, lighting up at the possibility of disposing them in a way that would make Joe's parents proud. Most recycling centers we've come to have about eight bins -- each for a different colored glass -- and then two for clothes. Someone explained to us today that recycling is still in the planning stages here, which means that they talk about it quite a bit but do very little, and he wasn't too positive about it taking off anytime soon.

Up Wexford!
No, this isn't an insult. You actually see lots of things "upped" here, much as we in the states would say, "Go Hokies!"

Regional roads
We headed out of Wexford down towards Waterford by way of the regional road R733. A mistake? Hard to say. Like I said before, it was very hilly and had very little (read: no) shoulder, and people rarely pull over into the other lane when they pass. It's not too unsafe, just slow-going.

Irish cream
One of Joe's favorites. We stopped and picked up a bottle in the evening -- "apero and digestif!" Plus, we've mixed it in coffee, tea, and -- holy smokes, you must try this one -- rice pudding.

Tea, ah, tea. A comfort that has comforted us well.

An insistent furry friend
After hitting a runner's high in all those hills, we coasted down to the water's edge near Arthurstown in search of a ferry to cross the river as the sun was getting low in the sky. In the road in front of us was a bright border collie. He glanced at us, then leapt over the stone wall and onto the beach and stared at us. "Here, puppy!" Nothing would make him budge. He stood motionless. "I know what he wants." We climbed down onto the beach and threw a stick for him for maybe half an hour. He would tireless leap into the air to catch the stick in his mouth, relinquish it, and stand still until you threw it again. Joe became his new best friend, but he plied me for help when Joe finally sat down, dropping the stick -- two or three, in fact -- on my feet. In the end, we tore ourselves away from him, and he ran with us a good half-kilometer along the river's wall.

Not the last kind soul we'd meet.

July 19 -- Day 24
Push bikes
"Oh, you're on push bikes!" the lady at the tourism office told Joe. We thought this was just a cool word for bicycle (we've heard the term pedalbike as well), as opposed to motorbikes. That is, until we realized that, in Ireland, your pedalbike often becomes a push bike as you climb those beautiful, pictoresque hills.

Biking along the Copper Coast, a gorgeous stretch of green hills and sheer cliffs plunging into the sea, we got thoroughly worn out! We usually would break camp by 9 am, bike a little while, collapse exhausted somewhere for lunch, and then bike a little while further, before feeling absolutely wiped out around 6 or 7 pm. We were in fact rather frustrated by our slow progress...until we found out that many signs and maps here are still in miles. Well, we still weren't going as fast as we'd have liked, but we're enjoying the views and workout!

Fantastic weather
Many people we spoke to before coming to Ireland were concerned about the weather -- "Hope it's not too cold and rainy!" Actually, the weather's been fantastic -- we've only cycled once in the rain, and that was only briefly through a light shower, and the cool weather has kept us nice and chilled. Warmer weather would simply be exhausting and unpleasant.

Waterford
A few quick facts:
- Ireland's oldest city
- home to Waterford crystal
- it has more than one river

Rolling into Waterford, we looked for nearly an hour before we found the tourism info office. "It's down by the quay," one woman told us. We biked up and down the river, finally stopping to ask in a hotel (I got quite a few looks in my grungy bike clothes), before realizing that there was more than one river, and that we'd been missing all of town by skirting its southern edge.

So, we finally found the tourism office, and she pointed us to a local laundry.

Rainbow End

This was no self-service laundry, either.

We found it on Thomas Street.

"I hope you don't need those for today, we're closin' at two pm," the man said at the entrance. We couldn't even see the laundry machines. "Oh, my, we're only here for the day." He smiled and took pity on us: "Alright, I'll ask the ladies what they can do far ya." He came back with an affirmative, and we happily (gratefully!) piled our things into the basket. "Leave yer bikes here," he said, "Just be back in about an hour."

T & H Doolans
31/32 George's Street
The tourism office lady might get a payback from the folks at T&H Doolans, but we sure did enjoy ourselves.

A bowl of soup and brownbread with a guiness on the side. Oh yes, sooooo good. So good.

A card on the table claimed that it was one of Ireland's oldest pubs, and that they'd been licensed for over 300 years. The city walls themselves are 800 years old. Not too shabby.

Clean clothes!

The ladies were fantastic and let me change in a back bathroom. How nice it was to slip on a clean shirt and warm jeans, especially after walking around all day in my spare pair of sports shorts.

Bedtime

As we left Waterford, we passed a few pubs. At a few, young men had gathered outside -- fifteen or twenty of them -- and they were singing along as three guitarists strummed out Cold Play or Pink Floyd. We left reluctantly, but were exhausted.

Camping down for the night in an unused cow pasture, the moon glowed into the tent like a searchlight.


July 20 -- Day 25

Is there a bull in the field?
Joe: "So, this morning, I woke up and I was afraid the farmer had let a bull into the field while we were sleeping. I could hear it snorting across the field in the distance, and I could just imagine ourselves packing it across the field with all of our stuff. Then I realized it was just you, snoring." A rather self-incriminating story, may I just say in my defense that I normally don't sleep on my back, and that the supposed bull was off in the distance, not right outside the tent!


The morning was beautiful, sunny, and laidback. We were finding the hills lovely again, as we set off with fresh legs.

Tramor

Tourist trap. Yuck. Thumbs down. Amusement park, golf course, beach, and two circuses.

Annestown

Muuuuch lovelier. Rocks and natural beach. A big hill.

That's so beautiful! Let's not go there!

We started seeing the Comeragh Mountains in the distance. Gorgeous to look at, but would promise difficult biking.

Fenor Bog
We passed by this National Nature Preserve in the late morning. An informational panel told us that it's one of thirteen bogs in Waterford County, and there are recorded over 100 birds and animal species. It protects "...32 acres of fen, a peatland habitat which is fast disappearing from the Irish countryside. Peatlands once covered 1.2 million hectares of Ireland. Today 90% have been lost due to development."

It's managed by two organizations: the Moin Fhionnurach Development Association, which is a voluntary committee set up "...to promote enterprise in Fenor which will be sympathetic to the unique features of the area..."; and the Irish Peatland Conservation Council.

Views of the Copper Coast:

Lunch in Bunmahon (soup and brownbread, so Irish!):

That's a big hill

Dungarven was our last town of the evening. As we left, we found ourselves at the foot of an immense hill on the N25 (national highway). We hadn't pedaled for more than 5 minutes when we both stopped, sat down and ate half a bar of chocolate, our energy sapped.

We should note here that all the signs in Ireland are written first in English, then in Irish. While sitting on the side of the road, we noticed that all the English was whited out on the signs. We were near Rign (An Rinn) , a town where Irish is spoken as the first language.

Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves at the top of the hill in a suitable field for camping with an outstanding view of the harbour.


Ooo, a bit of a loss
I lost my jacket at some point in the day. I hadn't secured it properly, and it fell right off the back of my bike. Not too serious, I bought another today, but it was my only warm article of clothing, really, and I was lucky it didn't rain.

July 21 - Day 26

It was all downhill from the overlook. We were starting to feel sticky, it having been a week since Joe had showered, and four days since I had, we started dreaming about finding a hostel in Cork.

Youghall

We later found out that this is pronounced like "Y'all" and is where Sir Walter Raleigh hailed from.

"You're doin' it the right way!"

Huuuuungry, we stopped in the small town of Killeagh for groceries. Joe almost stepped out in front of a car, then continued crossing the street. The driver, a small woman of about 60 years, hopped out and came running up to me.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're doin' it the right way!" She enthusiastically asked where we were from and leapt into telling us all about what we should do in the area. "You could stay on the road and rush through an' not see anything at all, or you could go here and here..." she went on. She recommended we go to see a local potter (Stephen Pearce), William Penn's family castle, and the internationally reknowned Ballymaloe Organic Farm and Cookery School (pronounced "ballymalloo") in nearby Shanagarry; to see Bishop Barkley's tomb at the protestant church in Cloyne, and the Jameson Distillery in Midleton. "An' just tell people you met me -- they know who I am!"

She gave us her phone number as well, "In case you need a shower or a bed for the evenin'." She used to host French exchange students, so they were all set up to host young folks.

We ended up following her advice and giving her a call later on...but that's all the time we have now! You'll just have to read our next blog to find out what happened!

Hilary in Penn's Castle

Penn's Castle ("It's behind the Catholic Church in Shanagarry.")

Just outside of Shanagarry, east of Ballymaloe Cookery School

Jameson's Irish Whiskey Distillery in Midleton, County Cork

Next: We're on to Mallow, and then either Killarny or Limerick