Ireland & Scotland - Days 10 & 11

Day 10 - Goodbye, Ireland but hello, Scotland!

Sad day today – we had to say goodbye to Ireland. Truly, I loved our visit here. Our hosts, Mary and Tom, at Cnoc Breac have been wonderful and, remote as it is, there is a wildness about the Atlantic coast that speaks to both of us.

And yet, all is not lost. Today we also head for another country, another adventure! We left the B&B around 8:45 this morning and took the N59 back down to Galway. One of my concerns for this leg was getting through the city since, last time, it was congested with heavy traffic. But I needn’t have worried. Yes, we hit some traffic, but not nearly as bad as a few days ago.

Really the only original part of the
fort in Athlone.

We stopped in Athlone for two reasons: one to visit the castle and our primary reason: for lunch. Because it was just a bit before 11:00, we decided to visit the castle first and then eat.

I’m afraid it was a bit of disappointment. The round tower is still there, along with the battlements, but the displays inside didn’t tell the story I wanted to hear. Unlike the museum housing the Book of Kells, this display didn’t quite hit it.

And disappointed in lunch as well. We passed over half a dozen pubs – all closed. By this point it was noon, so we decided just to get back on the M6 and eat at the airport.

No trouble finding the Hertz drop-off point or the shuttle to take us to the terminal. We waited to eat until we got through security and had pizza on the other side (somehow we just couldn’t bring ourselves to eat at the huge Burger King). We were quite early for our flight, but I’m glad we had time to spare. No stress!

 Short flight – only a little over an hour. But we got off late by 15 minutes, so landed late.

And then it got…interesting.

No one with a placard with our name on it when we got through the maze that leads to the lobby (by the way, didn’t have to go through customs because we came from another European country. Yay on the speed, pouting because no Scottish stamp on my passport). We waited for several minutes, then Steven borrowed a phone from another driver awaiting passengers and called the number on our voucher.

He was told we were in the wrong place, that we had to go across to the car park. So we did. No one there with a placard, either. Back to a different waiting area. Steven called again and the person on the other end said she’d have the company call us direct. A few minutes later, his phone rang – we were close when we were in the car park. We just had to go around another corner and across several lanes of traffic to get to the booth where drivers were assigned.

Our fancy digs in Edinburgh!

But we’re here now and the doorman called us by name. We must be the last people to check in tonight. The woman at reception (whom I think is French) told us we’d gotten an upgrade and so we’re on a private floor and need to use our key in the elevator to get up here. The room is large, elegant and sinfully luxurious. Loving it!

Not doing anything else tonight. Long day. Tomorrow is the Royal Mile, Arthur’s Seat and whatever else we can cram in. We’re in Edinburgh, Scotland!

Day 11 - Edinburgh

It’s now 5:30 and I have logged over 20,000 steps. That’s ten miles. Steven has a few more than me because he went to the gym this morning and ran two kilometers on the treadmill. Silly him!

The breakfast at the hotel is a decent Continental breakfast with various Danishes, cold cereals, “lunch” meats, and toast. If you want something more, there’s a charge. After the past three days of Irish breakfasts, we decided we were fine with the Continental. An Irish breakfast, btw, consists of at least two slices of bacon (which resides in a middle ground between Canadian and American bacons – half is Canadian and half American), two or three links of pork sausage (which I didn’t like – too mushy in texture), a slice of black pudding and a slice of white pudding (I preferred the white over the black but the black wasn’t awful. Steven didn’t like either), a half of roasted tomato and a coddled egg (which is over easy in America). If you were keeping count, that’s four meats, a vegetable and an egg.

Clock on the Royal Mile -
notice the nearly-empty
street?

So you can see why we were ready for a lighter breakfast! We ate and headed out and up the Royal Mile. We’re near the bottom of it and, for those who don’t know, entirely uphill from Holyrood Palace to Edinburgh Castle. And feels longer than a mile.

We knew we were early – it was only 8:30 – but we headed out anyway. It was actually fun, since mostly the only people out at that time were the delivery men (and women) and people on their way to work. Few tourists.

Steven by Mons Meg - that cannon is HUGE!

But we found those when we got to the Castle at the top. By now it was nearly 9:00 but they wouldn’t even let the queue form until 9:30. So we went in search of the Writer’s Museum, which we found tucked away in the Lady Stair’s Close, and which wasn’t open yet, either. Back to the top of the hill.

By now it was almost time, so we just waited. We were among the first in and boy, am I glad. We walked around, skipped the museums and looked at everything else, including the biggest cannon I’d ever seen. The Crown Jewels of Scotland are housed there and we ended up going into the exhibit from the end by accident. I’m glad we did, though. The story was told from the Stone of Destiny through the various iterations of the “Honors” as the jewels are called. By the time we reached the vault to see the actual items, we had a good idea of what they were and what they mean to Scotland.

Looking through the Lady Stair Close
to the Writer's Museum

Back to the Writer’s Museum for a visit. It’s free and dedicated to Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. A lot of the first and third, not much for the second. But there was a third floor we didn’t get to, so he might’ve been up there. Again, spiral staircases that were narrow and steep. Coming down from the second floor was a big sign to watch for the “Thieves’ Step” or the “Burglar’s Step.” Homeowners deliberately made one step higher than all the others. Everyone in the family knew which one it was, burglars didn’t. Any thieves that broke in would, theoretically, trip on the uneven stair, making their presence known. Must’ve worked because several of the houses in the Old Town have them.

St. Giles - you can see it was a rainy day

Along the Royal Mile is St. Giles Cathedral. It’s a Presbyterian church that’s VERY old and absolutely beautiful. Still active today, it is open for visitors so we went in.

We wandered around admiring the architecture and some of the more modern liturgical art when I got a nosebleed. I get them now and again but I’m thinking this one was because I’m a Catholic in a Presbyterian church. J

There was a children’s choir practicing in the center opposite the pulpit. They were quite good and I sat to listen and Steven wandered a bit more. After a few minutes more of practice, they sang “How Can I Keep From Singing” in its entirety. With the gorgeous acoustics, the notes reverberated and amplified beautifully. What a treat!

The song ended and Steven came back to where I was sitting, a huge grin on his face. I thought it was about the music and it was, but not in the way I thought. He’d met one of the parents of the kids singing – turns out they’re a choir from a church in Texas on a European tour. They’d just gotten to Edinburgh and had a concert in a half an hour. But the best part? The man Steven spoke to, who was about our age, went to East High School. In Rochester, New York! He grew up in the Corn Hill area, though, so he was a product of the busing solution tried then to desegregate the schools.

Talk about a small world! To go five thousand miles and meet someone from my old neighborhood.

Time for lunch! Walked down the Royal Mile and bypassed several restaurants that offered full meals. We’re still thinking we need to eat lighter today. Found a place called the “Filling Station” – serving American food. Wings, hamburgers, and wraps along with club sandwiches. So yes, we ate an American lunch in Edinburgh, Scotland. And it was good.

Back to the hotel to regroup and drop off a package (I found a wool wrap for myself). Not there long before we were off to Arthur’s Seat.

Hard to believe you're in the middle of a city!

Arthur’s Seat is this hill that’s at the other end of the Old City of Edinburgh from the Castle. It’s behind Holyrood Palace and legend paints it as a possible place for Camelot (which, sorry Scotland, I don’t buy. But you’re entitled to wishful thinking). It’s an extinct volcano and I wasn’t going to let that stop me from getting to the top.

After a false start on the wrong path (that was far steeper than I could manage for long), we found the right one and started around the Salisbury Crags. Easy-peasy. We walked for ten minutes, though, and realized the final leg was going to be VERY steep. Steven’s stomach had started giving him rumblings, too, so we made the decision to say, “Today, this is far enough.”

The Abbey ruins at
Holyrood

Holyrood Palace, the Royal apartments when the Royals are in town, is at the base of the hill right beside the ruins of an old Abbey. There were two parts to see, the Queen’s Gallery and the Palace itself (including the ruins). The Gallery hosts special exhibits of paintings from the royal collection; currently they’re showing several Dutch Masters, including a Vermeer. Spent over an hour in there, partly because we happened on a tour group that was being given a special lecture on one of the paintings. Of course, we stood in the back and listened. He gave a marvelous critique of the painting by Pieter de Hooch and I wasn’t even bored!

From there we headed to the Palace. The King’s Rooms, the Queen’s Rooms, separated by the Gallery – all quite impressive. Today when the Royal Family visit, they stay on the third floor rather than the second, however, so these rooms are museum pieces. Except for the Gallery. This is still a functioning State Room (knighthoods are dispensed here, for example).

The highlight of the tour is visiting Mary, Queen of Scots’ bedroom. Good history told through the audio guide, so I was looking forward to it. But we got hung up in the Queen’s Bedroom below her chambers. The room kept filling, but the warden at the door wasn’t letting anyone through (Really. The docents are called wardens). We stood for nearly ten minutes before we were told to go back a different way to go up to the chamber.

When we got there, we realized why. Off behind the red ropes was a tourist with an icepack on her head. The stairs we didn’t take were a spiral staircase with uneven steps. I’m sure she tripped and hit her head. I felt her pain. She was in good hands, though and, with any luck, will only come away with an egg on her head and nothing broken!

Our guides on the pub crawl

Back to the hotel for a break before our pub crawl. Never been on one before. This was a performance as well as a move from pub to pub. We started at The Beehive, a pub just down the way from Robert Burn’s apartments when he lived in the city. Two guys, one taking on the role of the upper class, the other of the lower, telling the story of several famous Scottish writers. It was highly entertaining and we walked about two miles on the tour, plus a mile to it and a mile back. All together, I’ve walked about 12 miles today! No wonder I’m tired.

Ireland & Scotland - Days 8 & 9

Day 8 - a dream comes true

When I first started teaching in 1979, I saw a picture and fell in love with the place. Didn’t know what it was or where, but it took my breath away. A gray-white castle with a green mountain backdrop, the reflection of both gazing upward from a lake so still it might’ve been a mirror.

I kept that picture for my entire teaching career, using it in writing exercises as a visual prompt many times. Sometime later, a few years after I obtained the picture, I discovered the name and the location of such a beautiful spot. And today I went there.

Kylemore Abbey
and yes, I took this picture!

Kylemore Abbey started as a private residence, was sold then lost in a gambling bet, and eventually became the home of the Irish Benedictine nuns, who promptly started a school for girls that existed until 2010. At that point, they had to close the school because the repairs needed were far more than they could afford.

The nuns still live there, but as more and more tourists discovered the beauty of the Connemara Mountains, they opened their property to visitors and the admission fees keep the place in good shape. I doubt there will ever be a school there again, but I stood on the shore and looked across the lake at the castle that has entranced me for years. Another circle in my life has closed and that makes me feel quite contented.

It rained off and on while we visited, mostly just misting. We walked the walled Victorian Garden, which is set off from the kitchen gardens by a stream surrounded by trees and bushes. The kitchen gardens are in two parts and those are separated by the longest formal border in Ireland. Why? So the high and mighty Victorian Lord and Lady (and the later owners, a Duke and Duchess – you know, the Duke who lost the property in a gambling bet) wouldn’t have to watch the lowly workers out harvesting the vegetables that would later be served to them in the dining room by servants expected to blend into the background.

Oops. Letting my egalitarian attitude show through there…

We left Kylemore in our first downpour. We’d planned to hike in the Connemara National Forest (which used to belong to the Abbey, but they sold it off in the 30’s to raise money – and to preserve the land), but the rain deterred us. Hard to climb a mountain when you can’t see more than a few feet in front of you.

So we went to Clifden instead and did some shopping. Walked around the downtown area and bought a few souveniers. Steven got some ice cream. We’d eaten at the Tea House in the Victorian gardens at Kylemore Abbey, so I wasn’t hungry. Plus we’d bought some fudge and I’d had a piece of that in the car.

The tide is nearly out - that's Omey Island to the back
left

Omey Island was on our way back to the B&B and we were close to low tide, so we took a detour. I’d read about it online – at low tide, the ocean leaves a strand—a stretch of open land that’s underwater at high tide. This one is very wide and you can even drive your car across it to reach the island. Since low tide was still about a half an hour away, we didn’t attempt the crossing by car, but got out and walked it on foot. Glad we didn’t try. The ocean hadn’t completely receeded, leaving a stretch of about forty feet across and a foot deep. We watched a couple cars give it a shot and each made it over, but it was close for a few of them. The sand keeps shifting in the water and it just grabs at the wheels, not letting them necessarily turn in the direction you want. Better to use foot power!

On our way back to the B&B we saw a sign for Cleggan and decided to go that way rather than all the way back to Clifden and out again. Let’s just say it’s a good thing the Lord watches over fools and tourists.

Yes, this is an actual road. Not a driveway.

I’m posting a picture of the “road” we ended up on. When it became obvious this wasn’t going anywhere but to the ocean, we turned around and headed inland. Took another road – that was better but still not right. Came to a T intersection and there was a young man unloading a car in a driveway. Steven stopped and asked how to get to Cleggan. I was so proud of him!

Anyway, the young man pointed in the direction we should take and said, “About three miles that way.” Interesting that they measure in miles here. He’s not the first to use that measurement. The signs are all in kilometers. In any case, we tooled along for less than a mile and the road again came to a T. So much for the kid’s directions.

We both agreed on a direction and drove some more. These are barely roads, you have to realize. Mom and Dad will remember Wayne Place? This road was narrower. Not even a driveway width.

But we kept going, sure we were headed correctly and soon we came around a curve and I saw the B&B on the opposite hill. The road dipped down, curved a few more times and sure enough, came up at the foot of the lane that runs to our home for the next two nights. Yay!

There was a great deal Steven wanted to paint today but the rain made it impossible. He’s now sitting in the living room with a table covered in newspapers as he paints from a picture on his cell phone. I’m finishing here and I think we’ll go back to Oliver’s – the pub in the village where we ate last night—and have dinner. I just might have to get the Hack again.

Later -

Ended up at the Pier Pub. Good food, I couldn’t finish the cod because it was such a large piece. But service was very, very slow…

We’re for bed, even though the sun is still up. Long days here – and it doesn’t get full dark because we’re so far north. :)

Day 9 - Down time

Late start this morning. Breakfast at 8:00 as always, but we’re taking it slow today. We’re tired. Been doing a lot of walking over the past week! So just a walk along the lane this morning.

This cow watched us until we took our picture with her.
Only then did she lose interest.
Oh, and its raining...can you tell?

Just a walk along the lane. Right. This is Ireland, not walking the Ontario Pathway. Cows to the left, Connemara ponies to the right…here I am, stuck in the middle with Steven. I can’t think of a better place to be. J

So there’s this island just across the way – there’s a ferry goes over twice a day and comes back twice a day. It leaves here at 11:30 and 4:00 and comes back at 1:30 and 5:00. The island is Inishbofin and has a rich history of conquest and piracy. We’d decided to take the early ferry over and spend the afternoon.

Except I’m exhausted. Couldn’t figure out why and then realized, on all previous vacations I plan in a “down” day – a day to do absolutely nothing. At Disney World, that means spending the day swimming in the pool (Steven and the kids) and doing laundry (me in the air conditioning). For a cruise, that’s built in as an “at sea” day.

But this time around, I forgot that. For each place we’re staying, I drew up a list of possible things to but very few of them were must-sees. Glenquin Castle, Kylemore Abbey and the Cliffs of Moher were on the must-see list – everything else has allowed for seredipty. Inishbofin is serendipity.

But marriage doesn’t mean having to do absolutely everything together. While we both enjoy it more when we can share it with each other, the reality is, sometimes we need to do our own thing. So Steven’s on his way to Inishbofin and I’m staying at Cnoc Breac to write and relax. He’ll be back on the 5:00 ferry with tons of stories (and at least one painting, I’m sure) and we’ll go together to dinner, both of us refreshed in our own ways.

Later –

What a wonderfully relaxing afternoon! I wrote about 1200 words on a new story and then read a Regency romance all afternoon. Shortly after noon, Tom (our host) came in and lit a peat fire in the small stove here in the living room (the lounge, to be more accurate). Just after that, Mary (our hostess) stopped in and asked if I’d like some tea and a sandwich. I didn’t want to put them out, but she insisted it was no trouble at all, so I had a ham and tomato sandwich and two cups of Irish tea. Marvelous afternoon to sit curled up in a huge comfy chair watching the rain and wind outside the window.

I told Steven he should be able to charge more for this
painting because, you see those white specks? That's real
Irish rain that washed his paint away as he tried to
work!

Because yes, it rained most of the day. Steven came home soaked, but having painted two new pieces while on Inishbofin. He made a wonderful post about it, so I won’t repeat it here.

Off to Oliver’s for dinner again. Then “home” for a quiet evening. We’ll pack tonight because tomorrow we leave early and head for Dublin to catch the plane to Edinburgh!

Ireland & Scotland - Days 6 & 7

Day 6 - Touring County Limerick

I took this picture of a purple door
in Ballingarry just because I love
the fact that someone has a
purple door!

Today we did the tour of Limerick that included the area where I’m pretty sure our branch of the Frawley’s came from. James Frawley married Bridget Sullivan in the old Ballingarry church in February, 1827. Their son, Patrick, was baptized in that same church a year later. Those two documents (found during my genealogical trip to Salt Lake City); a marriage license and a baptismal record, narrowed my focus. I’d already found a bunch of Frawley’s in Rathkeale using Griffeth’s Valuation, but that was done shortly after James and Bridget left for America. So anyone on it would be either a parent or a sibling. Oh! And James was from Kildimo, according to his marriage certificate. But I don’t know if his whole family was from there, or if he’d been working up there.

First stop, Ballingarry. We walked through the church cemetery (no Frawley’s). We went inside to see the church, even though it isn’t the one James and Bridget were actually married in. According to the church history on their website, the original church was torn down and the new one built over it in the 1880’s – 90’s. But it’s still an impressive building from the outside, so in we went.

A sacristan was there preparing for a funeral (interestingly, the coffin was already placed before the altar). She was trying to put up a mic stand for the musicians and failing. Steven went to ask her about the church and she asked him if he knew anything about these stands. He said yes, he was a musician himself and she was thrilled. “Brilliant!” was the word she used more than once. Another woman came in and the first turned to the second and said, “God sent a musician from America to help us.” So now we know the real reason we came to Ireland. It was for Steven to set up a couple of mic stands.

After, we spoke for a few minutes, I told her I was a Frawley and she said, “Oh, yes. Lots of Frawleys around here.” She said there were more in Rathkeale – which we’d planned for our next stop. I lit a candle on our way out for all the Frawleys, living and dead.

Off we went, continuing to follow R518 north. Rathkeale’s church isn’t on the main road (hence our asking directions from the woman watering her flowers). We could see the church tower, and we’d managed to surround it. She got us to it.

This is a deceptive picture.
The graves LOOK like they're in
straight rows but trust me, they are
NOT!

There we spent a little over a half an hour wandering through the cemetery. Again, not in neat rows with the markers all facing the same direction as in US cemeteries. Each family plot is outlined in stone, often covered in gravel, and used for several generations. In what would be a two-person grave here? As many as six names on the tombstone in Ireland. We found several Frawley’s here, all of them buried from 1950 onward. It has me wondering, do they remove the old bones to put in new family members? Or just bury them on top?

We stopped inside (what can I say? Church architecture has a unique beauty) and spoke with a woman about the churchyard. She said there were even more Frawleys in Canaugh, just a bit north. She gave us directions and off we went.

The altar in the church in
Canaugh

Now we were driving off the map. As in, this town was SO small, it wasn’t on it. Believe it or not, though, THIS time we didn’t get lost. Found the church, but not the graveyard. Went inside the church (which are not locked, btw.). Stopped halfway up the aisle, a huge grin on my face. The altar, carved from marble, is the spittin’ image of the one in the church on Sugar Ridge. This one is in better shape (cleaner) and has more windows behind it, but the altar is very, very similar. Now I KNOW we’re close.

But without any thing further to go on, there is no way to find the actual farm or to find any more family names. Time to head for lunch, it now being past 1:00 PM.

On to Adare! Why? Because I knew, being a touristy town, that they’d have open restaurants and perhaps a place to shop. Sure enough, they had both. The small towns have a lot of beauty salons and pubs (even the tiny ones have two or three!), butcher shops and drugstores, but little else.

We ate at Aunt Lena’s Bar and Lounge (a pub) and walked for a bit before stopping at the tourist center and shopping some. Back in the car, we headed down the N21 for an easy ride, turning east on R515 and going back to the white knuckle driving that is Ireland. Our destination? Glenquin Castle.

Glenquin Castle - and
our little VW Golf

Now, this isn’t much of a castle. It’s a large six-story square tower that was built in the late 1500s. But ten years ago, I wrote a story that took place in Ireland (called Stitches in Time). A major plot point occurred at Glenquin Castle in the town of Killeedy. So of course I wanted to see it for real!

And now I need to do a revision of Stitches in Time. I HAVE to add in the driving and the hedges and walls and fences. The “castle” is really a fortified tower the family lived in – the rooms inside aren’t actually all that large. And it’s about a kilometer from Killeedy, not just outside it. I’ve gotten the rights back to that story from Ellora’s Cave, so will be putting a new cover on it (with a picture I took of the castle!), doing a revision to reflect new knowledge, and re-releasing it sometime this autumn.

We got back to Kilmallock at quarter after four. Steven went out to paint and I’ve been writing this journal. It’s now 5:30 and the rain has reached us.

Oh! It doesn’t snow in this part of Ireland. Ever. Sleet is as bad as it gets. If it weren’t for the driving, I really could live here.

Day 7 - Traveling!

An early start this morning; breakfast at “half seven” as Anne, our hostess, puts it. By 8:15 we’d eaten, checked out and started on our way to the next leg of our adventure! Destination? The Cliffs of Moher (pronounced “Mo-her” by Anne).

Speaking of pronunciation…LOTS of different Irish accents. Seems to be almost as many as American accents in the States. Anne’s was quite soft and she’s native to County Limerick – in fact, her best friend’s family when she was a girl owned the land that surrounds Glenquin Castle. We lunched in Kinvara and our waitress’ accent was MUCH different. More the stereotypical sound one hears in American movies.

I’d been looking forward to crossing the Shannon, since it’s the river my ancestors sailed down on their way to America. But somewhere in the intervening hundred and sixty years, the Irish went and built a tunnel underneath it. Sigh. Didn’t see the river. At all.

When one thinks of rural Ireland, one thinks of stone walls and sheep on the hillsides. We saw none of that in the area of Limerick we traveled, but found it as soon as we came into County Clare. In fact, the whole area changed dramatically. The houses were bigger, more well-kept and affluent. As we tooled along the road (back to our narrowness, btw), I realized that the Kilmallock, Rathkeale, Newcastle West area is to County Limerick as Wayne County is to New York: rural and economically depressed. That’s not to say there’s nothing to do or see – have you read my last few posts? It just means that triangle is out of the limelight, a bit forgotten, and in need of a pick-me-up.

The Cliffs of Insanity!
erm...Moher

But back to County Clare. The only rain we had all day was as we approached the Cliffs of Moher. We could see the storm off in the distance. But then the sun came out behind us and formed a beautiful double rainbow. How wonderful for Ireland to give us such a gift! We chased the end of it, but ran into the rainstorm instead. The leprechaun gets to keep his gold. This time, anyway.

We arrived at the Cliffs of Moher a little after ten in the morning. There were only two tour busses in the lot and about 20 cars. Perfect. We headed for the toilets (it’s taken me all this time to remember to call them that. Not restrooms or bathrooms. Toilets) and then over to the Cliffs of Insanity ..erm, the Cliffs of Moher.

Wow. We spent two hours walking the cliffs and could’ve easily spent the entire day. Yes, it’s a tourist spot, but in the same way Niagara Falls is – it’s a piece of nature that totally takes your breath away. Almost literally. The wind is strong (as you can see from the pictures).

Much of the way where the Tourist Center is located is paved with stone. But the Burren Way goes all the way from Doolin to Liscannor and is dirt. And narrow. And right beside the cliffs. Steven walked some of it, I walked about twenty feet and said, “Nope. I want to finish this trip whole and hearty.” So I let him go on and I stayed to watch the puffins play in the wind currents below. See? Sometimes you can find adventure just by standing still.

By the time we were ready to leave (okay, we weren’t really ready but had to get on to our next B&B), there were over 30 buses in the car park and over a hundred cars. Everything was getting crowded, so we timed things perfectly. We headed north on the N whatever (the numbers get confusing after a bit. Good thing we have a paper map – which is currently in the car) and that’s when the driving got VERY interesting.

It wound around and up and around again. We laugh every time we see a squiggly line sign that signifies a set of curves ahead because the entire road is one curve after another. There is no such thing as a straight line here. So we’re going up, and up, and up and at the top, it says “Corkscrew Hill”. Yep, it had been, that was for sure.

We were so naïve. The corkscrew was coming DOWN the other side. Hairpin turns, which Steven’s taking on the left side of the road, shifting with his left hand, and dodging those coming up who are often over the center line because they’re not used to driving on their left either. The hardest part was watching two tour buses try to make a curve. I was sure someone was going over.

But they made it and so did we. Whew! Toughest driving so far and I’m glad Steven had several days’ worth of practice first. The road continued to weave around non-existent obstacles and, when we got to Kinvara, we stopped for lunch – more because we both needed a break than because we were hungry.

The ocean from the front step of our B&B

Our destination was Cleggan, which is some way past Clifden, a fairly large, touristy city. Our B&B is on the ocean – in fact, later we’re going to take a walk and see if we can find the path that goes down to the shore from here.

And that’s our day! It’s now 6:00 and we’re headed into the village for dinner.

Later –

Dinner at Oliver’s in Cleggan. GREAT seafood, so of course, Steven had a steak. It was Irish beef, at least. I had hack, which is the first time I’ve ever had that fish. It was wonderful! I think I have a new favorite meal.

We sat in the bar area at a table obviously for four. But it was the only one open when we went in and we figured someone would come and sit on the other end. Two women did and it became obvious pretty quickly that they were also tourists. Turns out they were visiting from Colorado. A mother and daughter…and the mom was originally from Syracuse! We had a great dinner, talking and making a new set of friends. They’re planning to go back to Dublin tomorrow, though. We’re not going for three days yet.

A fun way to end the evening!

Ireland and Scotland - Day 5

Day Five - exploring Killmallock and Lough Gur

Our first breakfast at the Deebert House. Ann had asked us what time we’d like breakfast and we’d told her 8:00 – more or less making up a time since our plans are very fluid. I have lists of things to do and no plan in which to do them. Abandoning plans in favor of something better is always an option, too. Serendipity rules!

Good meal, too much food for two people, and off we went to Lough Gur.

Half of the Grange Stone Circle

This was one of my must-sees only because of Steven. When planning for this trip I asked him what was something he most wanted to see in Ireland. He promptly told me, “Standing stones.” Lough Gur has the largest stone circle in all of Ireland. Some of the stones are huge, some not so much. But the circumference is quite large. The stones are set into an embankment all around the circle – it’s thought that those not participating in the ceremonies below stood here to watch.

The Visitors’ Center is fairly new (only a few years old) and is built in the shapes of the two types of ancient buildings whose ruins are nearby: a circle and a rectangle. Our mathematician friends would enjoy the geometry of the Bronze Age dwellings! There was a walk up to the top of the mountain (we’d call them very tall hills in New York State) that included 110 steps. Yes, I climbed them (up is easy). The descent is down a long trail without steps – and yes, I managed to make it back down without incident. Wise guys!

Bouchier's Castle from the top
of the 110 steps

We then took a leisurely walk around the Lough to see the tower building of Bouchier’s Castle. Lough Gur is home to a pair of swans, but they were on the other side of the lake since kayaker’s were on our side taking a test.

There are a few other sites outside the park that are actually part of the park, just not connected to the main section. One of these is the “Giant’s Grave”. Not so named because of the size of the man inside, but because a giant must’ve placed the stones. They’re extremely large. The tomb had been plundered and parts of it thrown down over the years – when it was excavated in the 20^th century, the remains of several people were found inside.

A ruined church was next on our way. This has a cemetery still being used by the family that owns it. But they allow people to come and climb about the ruins and take pictures (which we did, of course). The early 20^th Century owner had decided to renovate the place. It needed a new roof and there were churches in Italy being torn down at the time, so he bought a tin roof from one of them and had it shipped to Ireland. Unfortunately, there was this little skirmish called WWI going on at the time; the ship carrying his tin roof was torpedoed and sunk. He abandoned the renovation at that time and, in the intervening one hundred years, it has fallen further into decay.

And our last stop: the Grange Stone Circle that we came here to see in the first place. Like the church, the land is privately owned and you have to climb through stiles and go through gates to get to it. Still in use to graze cows, you also have to watch your step. No cows within the circle today, but plenty of their evidence left behind. I’m sitting at the side of the road as I type this and my nose also tells me they are near.

My first magpie! Taken at the
Stone Circle

Why am I at the roadside? Because Steven found a perfect spot to paint. Remember I said there is an embankment on which people stood? Well, there has to be a way through that embankment for participants to get through. On the opposite side, placed directly in line with the opening, is a huge, very old tree. There is also one to the right, halfway around the circle and, opposite it, the stump of the third.

By the way, I did put my hand on the largest of the stones, but I didn’t go anywhere. Steven tried but he’s still here, too. There’s also a split stone. He tried going through it but now he’s happily painting just outside the circle. No time-traveling for us. L

Lunch at Reardon’s, a restaurant/pub in Holycross, which is no more than a crossroads where you turn for Lough Gur (if you’re a car, you turn. If you’re a bus, you have to go somewhere else because the “road” at the turning isn’t any wider than a single-width driveway). I had the fish and chips, which in Ireland is always cod and chips and Steven had chicken wings – and a half pint of Guinness. I’ve turned him!!!

 Later –

A pleasant walk through the village, in very muggy weather. It’s still misting, but barely. Still, its weather you can wear. We headed over to the ruin only to discover there are TWO churches in ruins here – one a Dominican Priory (the big one) and the other a collegiate church.

The Collegiate church

First, a collegiate church is one that isn’t owned by any particular order. Several are often represented and it’s a place of reflection and study. They did not follow monastic rule. The one in Kilmallock was the site where, in 1600, the Earl of Desmond surrendered to King James I of England, who promptly turned around and had a Protestant service held in this Catholic church. The people of the town promptly rebelled again.

The Priory - where it was just us, the rooks,
and the ruin

The Priory, however, was a monastery. There appear to be three separate churches all joined together in the middle, but one was the altar, one the chancery and the other where the monks gathered. Very cool to step inside ruins and be allowed to wander at will, touch the stones and let my imagination roam free. No one else was there except the rooks, and they weren’t happy at our invasion of “their” space. We got yelled at quite a bit by them as we wandered around.

My favorite part, however, wasn’t the church, it was a small courtyard bordered on one side by a corridor set off from the courtyard by a series of arches. I set my very first novel (as yet unfinished and unpublished) in a monastery that had this exact courtyard. I could see the scene I wrote playing out here and, as I looked around and found the refectory and bell tower (now falling down), the scenes I wrote came to life in my head once again. I took LOTS of pictures and think it might be time to resurrect that novel when I get home.

I walked through the archway to see this - and stopped cold.
The very place I'd described in my very first novel, written
over 25 years ago.

Even later – Back to the B&B now for a quiet night of reading and relaxing. I walked over 14,000 steps today – Steven did more because he did his morning run. Time to put my feet up and remember I’m on vacation!

Ireland and Scotland - Days 3 & 4

Day 3 - Serendipity rules!

We slept in this morning, getting rid of the last of the jet lag. As a result, no morning walk for Steven. Breakfast in the hotel – a pretty good spread, actually. I tried blood pudding and liked it, although its very dense.

Our initial plan was to walk over to the Guinness Storehouse and stop in a small art store I’d found online so Steven could pick up some additional tubes of paint. Then we’d have lunch, perhaps go to the National Art Museum, walk around and head back for the hotel. That was the plan.

So we head out in 60 degree weather, mostly cloudy, but a good day for a walk. We head up the street, remarking on the variety of storefronts, pointing out various restaurants (if you can’t find food you like in Dublin, you ain’t looking), just being touristy. Partway up the road (literally, up – as in we were climbing a hill), there was a sign for Dublin Castle. What the heck, we’d visit it. Squirrel!

Turns out to be the equivalent of the White House. I really don’t know my Irish history as well as I should. We opted for the guided tour and saw the State Rooms used for major functions as well as going underground to see the medieval underpinnings of the current buildings.

Hard to see the Celtic knot unless you're in the air :(

Because we had twenty minutes before the tour began, we wandered over to the gardens, which is really one big oval with a Celtic knotwork design worked in brick through the center. The knotwork is designed to be seen by the helicopters as they fly in dignitaries for state visits. In the four corners of the walled-in rectangle in which this oval resides, are four smaller gardens. The first is dedicated to the Irish policemen who have fallen in the line of duty, the second wasn’t dedicated to anyone, but has a beautiful peacock sculpture made of stone and glass in the center. The third one is more modern and is dedicated to the participants of the 2003 World Special Olympics. It was the first time the event had been held outside the US and the Irish people wanted to mark it as an historic event. The names of every participant line the outside of the small plaza.

The fourth garden is under reconstruction and wasn’t open to the public. L

So now we know more about the original layout of Dublin, how it got started as a Viking settlement, and some of the important buildings that are still standing today. We leave and pick up our trek to the Guinness Storehouse.

And then the street curves (as all Dublin streets seem to do) and there, right in front of us, is Christ Church, the oldest building in Dublin. We walk around it, take some pictures, and venture inside. My favorite part was standing in the Nave and looking back – the left wall is perfectly fine, the right wall curves backward at the top. It’s off by 18 inches! Oops.

A very nice priest spoke to me in Irish, which, of course, I don’t speak. We chatted for a bit and he later invited us to the service at 12:45 (it was now 12:30). We went out and got a bottle of water from the vendor right outside and then went back in for the service. It wasn’t long and only 7 people attended (including the priest).

By then we were hungry and running out of time. We were still only halfway to the Storehouse and we wanted to get to the National Art Museum by 3:00. It was back in the direction of the hotel, so down the street we went. Again, tons of restaurants to choose from; we went to Trinity Bar on Dame Street. Good lunch, although I don’t think any of these places have air conditioning. It’s okay. Sat next to two open windows on the second floor and had a good breeze.

We got close to the hotel and knew we needed to make a turn, but weren’t sure where, exactly. So we stepped to the side of the walk on Clare Street and checked the map. Got it. Just around the corner. Off we went.

Except that entrance is closed at the moment for renovation. Where is the temporary entrance? On Clare Street. EXACTLY where we’d stepped to the side to check the map. Sigh.

My idea of my perfect drawing. Isn't it beautiful? It is, right up
until I put my pastel on it and ruin the picture in
my mind!

It’s 2:30, so we’re in good shape. Inside and up the stairs, find the spot and sign up. For what? An art class, of course! Yep, yours truly, who draws pictures with words, signed up to take an art class for 55+ year olds.

Thank goodness it ended up being more a conceptual art class rather than an “here’s how you draw a wing” art class. They currently have ten pages from Leonardo DaVinci’s notebooks on display and the class centered around his inventions for flight. We studied DaVinci’s ideas, copied down ones that made sense to us, and then designed our own, making notes in the margins as he did. I had more notes than pictures, but did come out with an idea for a story!

Steven did better than I did at the drawing (big surprise!). We will bring them all home and people can giggle at mine and admire his. Oh! And we did look at a number of masterpieces (Titian, Caravaggio, Van Gogh) while we were there.

We’d thought to visit the Storehouse afterward, but they closed at 5:00 and it was 4:30. Out of time. No Guinness and no art store. And no loss. We had fun being spontaneous…and I took an art class in Dublin!

What a couple of tourists!

This evening we went back to Temple Bar for dinner. The man standing is James Joyce (or rather, a statue of him); the seated man is Oliver St. John Gogarty, the original owner of the bar. Much to my chagrin, Steven insisted on sitting at their table, encouraged by the waiter to do so. LOTS of stares and giggles from tourists passing by.

Wandered through some side streets on the way back to the hotel and found the “American” Dublin. A street blocked to traffic so the whole thing is a mall – in the American sense of the word. Coach, Bath and Body Works, Tommy Hilfiger…all I can say is, I’m sorry, Dublin. We didn’t stay long and got back to the real world as quickly as we could.

As we left the restaurant a fog was descending on the city. Hard to see the tops of many buildings…and they aren’t that high. No skyscrapers here – at least in the part of the city we’ve walked over the past two days (17,500 steps just today, btw. Steven has over 20K) – most buildings aren’t more than 4-6 floors high. But definitely walking through an Irish mist!

Day 4 - On the road -- eek!

Today is a travel day. Our first mode of travel we were intimately acquainted with: foot power. After breakfast, we left the hotel shortly after 9:00 AM and headed for the Hertz Car rental, which was—according to Google—a half-hour walk away. Because we were hauling our suitcases, we expected to take about three-quarters of an hour. It took 50 minutes, but I enjoyed seeing parts of Dublin that tourists generally don’t venture into. We made it to the car rental without incident. And that was where it got interesting.

Left side of the road. That’s my job as passenger. To watch the left side of the road and make sure Steven’s not too close to anything on my side. He’s busy lining the car up on the right side and while we were on the motorway (we’d call it an expressway or highway), everything went fine. Getting out of Dublin wasn’t as much of a hassle as we expected and, within a half an hour of driving, he felt comfortable enough to pass some slower moving trucks (slow traffic keeps to the left, btw).

And then we left the motorway.

Two roundabouts, in quick succession, successfully navigated.

Oh. Dear. Lord.

My father had warned me the roads were narrow. I’d gone on Google Maps and “driven” down some before we left. Neither prepared me for the reality.

There are no shoulders. Six inches from the line to the end of the pavement – on roads that have lines, that is. In the US, the road would be worth about a lane and a half on any given street. Here you have not only two –way traffic, you’re traveling the winds and curves at 100 kilometers an hour. That’s right. Imagine two-way traffic along your driveway at 62 miles per hour!

Okay, the Irish are traveling 62 miles an hour. We’re going about 45 and I’m still white-knuckling every corner. But Steven did amazingly well, even if he was stressed and nervous. I know he was ‘cause he wasn’t talking. At all. He was focused on the road and, at one point, said he was looking forward to getting used to this because he wasn’t seeing any scenery. I told him that was okay, I wasn’t either. I was too busy being his left side warning system.

But he did well. We only ran over one orange cone and only drove on the sidewalk once. And that was going around a curve with a truck going the other way, so it doesn’t count.

We made it to Killmallock with only one stop to ask directions. Again, it was more to confirm we were headed in the right direction rather than because we were lost. Road signs are few and far between and, at that point, Steven didn’t really want to do more driving than he had to.

Of course, we drove right past the Deebert House Bed andBreakfast. The entrance, although well-marked, came up too fast and we couldn’t stop fast enough. So around the block we went. Not. One way streets, so we had to go somewhere else first. Like to a gas station to ask directions.

  

The tree was behind the B&B;
his painting of it

Steven’s out painting now. Found a great tree behind the place and has set up. Anne, our hostess (and owner of the B&B) is charming. She got him a pan of water for his paints, brought me tea and a scone and, in general, is the stereotypical tiny Irishwoman. We’re currently the only residents in the house – which is huge. I’ll upload pictures when I can. There is no wireless here Will go elsewhere later and try.

By the way, we’re driving a VW Golf – manual transmission. Gears are in the same place, but he has to shift with his left hand. And remember that it’s a standard. Hasn’t stalled it yet, but come close once or twice. J He asked at Hertz about changing to an automatic and it would be significantly more expensive. The clerk there told us nearly everyone in Ireland drives stick because it’s more economical. And the Golf takes diesel. Before you ask, no, I do not intend to drive here. Or in Scotland. Maybe if I were here six months, I could begin to think about it. But this trip? No, thank you. I’ll continue to be Steven’s left side.

Dinner in downtown Killmallock at a place called Flaherty’s. A pub open early (5:15) for dinner, although there were only a few tables and several stools at the bar. We opted for a table; there was only one other diner and he sat at one of the others. Plain food; I had pork roast with mash and veg and Steven had the roast beef, also with mash and veg. The “veg” was a HUGE helping of sliced carrots and a mountain of squash with three ice cream scoop size dollops of mashed potatoes. I ate one mountain and all of my carrots and squash (Steven ate only two carrots and none of his squash and all of his potatoes). We both polished off our respective meats, of course.

By the time we’d finished eating a few other patrons had come in -  all male. I was the only woman in the place. Fish out of water – and American to boot! But a very Irish establishment.

Back to the B&B, an easy night planned. Reading and watching TV, I expect, since the streets are all rolled up and everyone’s gone home (it’s now 6:00). 

Addendum: I later found out it wasn't squash, it was "neeps" - in the States we call it Rutabaga - and I liked it!

Ireland and Scotland vacation - Days 1 & 2

Diana and Hubby ready to get going!

I promised a travelogue of our recent trip -- here are the first two days!

Day One

Thirty-five years ago I married the man of my dreams. Since then we’ve: raised kids together; bought a house, renovated it and sold it, bought another (still living in it); bought a cabin, renovated and enjoying it, planning more projects for it; gone on several family vacations; dealt with ENS (Empty Nest Syndrome); gotten older together. He’s my best friend as well as my husband and there’s no one I would rather travel with.

So its appropriate that we began this travel adventure with a stop in the same town where we spent our wedding night. We didn’t stay overnight this time, but we did have lunch just down the road apiece from that hotel. And because it’s become a bit of a tradition to have at least one meal there, naturally we chose Cracker Barrel!

No stop this year at Niagara Falls. Too anxious to get going to Europe to finish the trip we started last year. Since flying out of Toronto is MUCH cheaper than flying out of the States, yes, we went west to fly east.

Getting across the border at Lewiston wasn’t hard. Only four or five cars ahead of us in line. Typical questions and we were on our way. I’d printed out the directions to the airport and we were fine, right up until we got to the airport. Wound around and about before we found the parking garage—which is HUGE. We drove around it for nearly ten minutes before finding a spot on the top level at the point furthest from the terminal.

It’s okay. We needed a walk after a long car ride. Found the right terminal and managed to get our boarding passes printed with very little difficulty. Now sitting and chilling until we know what gate our flight will leave from (it’s 5:00 and our flight doesn’t board until 10:30. See what I mean about being anxious?). Once it goes up on the board, we’ll leave our very comfy seats and head over.

Step one of our journey – complete!

The view from our hotel room.
Dublin, looking exactly as I expected!

Day Two

We are here! Exhausted by the flight, but here!

Good flight, left on time, arrived on time. As soon as our flight was posted, we got in the security line, which was perpetually long. Took nearly a half an hour to get from one end to the other. But then it was smooth sailing through. Didn’t have to take off shoes, didn’t have to pull liquids out, or meds. I did have to take out my little laptop – I threw my glasses and my watch into the bin for good measure, but I’m not sure I needed to do even that much. No muss, no fuss and we were through.

Sleeping in economy on an airplane is hard. We both took sleeping pills and that helped, but I still slept in only fifteen minute increments. Steven didn’t do much better, although he had one good half hour nap. I know because I was awake for that part. They fed us, sort of. Small meal, which was probably best for travel. Chicken and rice with a roll, a very brown salad and a very dry brownie/cake thingy. I ate the entrée and roll, ignored the salad and took two bites of the dessert before I gave up entirely. At least the banana bread we got for breakfast was pretty good.

Met our driver – he brought us to our hotel and gave Steven some driving tips.  Making the turns is what feels the weirdest about being on the other side of the road. And roundabouts – here they go clockwise and again, weird! I’m sure by the end of the week it’ll feel normal and then we’ll have to adjust when we get home. J

Taking naps now. Just short ones. It’s cloudy and rainy (hey, this IS Ireland!) and we need to take the edge off the jet lag. Will be going out and about later this afternoon.

Later:

We found Trinity College with no trouble at all. It’s just a few blocks down, although the streets do like to curve in unexpected ways. I hadn’t gotten tickets for the Book of Kells exhibit since I wasn’t really sure when we wanted to go. But as we crossed the green, we realized there was no line, so we thought we’d give it a try. Apparently about 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon is a good time to go – there were about five people ahead of us in line inside and that was it.

The exhibit was crowded inside, however. A tour group milled about, several probably. We’d passed at least a half a dozen on the street outside the college. A well-laid out exhibit, giving the history of Christianity on the Emerald Isle as well as explaining how the Book of Kells came about. The monastery where the books were created was sacked, pillaged and burnt down nearly two dozen times over the centuries. I’m not sure that I might’ve given up and moved somewhere else!

Of course, it was the book itself I wanted to see. When it was found, it was quite thick and the gold leaf covers had been stolen (by some of the aforementioned pillagers). It was gifted to Trinity College because of the mission of their library: to collect in one place, every piece of writing written on Irish soil (or something like that). Restorers separated the single book into the four gospels it contained and gave each section a new cover. Today, two parts are shown at any given time – one page turned to an illustration, one to a page of text. But even the text pages are not plain. Illustrators often chose an important word to embellish with artistic flair and it was a point of pride to never write the same word the same way twice.

Three times a year, the books are rotated so no one book spends too much time in the public eye (and in the light). Each time a book’s turn comes, it’s turned to a different page than before, so if you’ve been to see the Book before, chances are we saw a different set of pages than you did.

The barrel vaulting of the Long Room

And of course, one cannot go to Trinity College and not go see the Long Room. The room built specifically to hold all those Irish books. This is what Heaven looks like, to me anyway. Shelves and shelves of books, their knowledge and stories just waiting to be opened and shared. We walked the whole length of it, pausing to take pictures of some of the nooks and crannies. Seriously, it makes me want to find something I need to study there just so I can curl up on a bench and read!

Don't you just want to curl
up here and read the
afternoon away?

Afterward, we walked around the campus some and came out at the front gate, a beautiful structure in and of itself. We stood on the street outside, trying to determine which way we wanted to go and what we wanted to do next when a very nice Irish man stopped and asked if he could help with directions. I asked him the way to Temple Bar, since there’s a pub I’d seen online (Temple Bar Pub) and thought we might try it for dinner.

Now understand. I thought Temple Bar was just the name of the pub. I had no idea it’s an area, like Greenwich Village is an area of NYC. The slate brick surface couldn’t stand up to today’s vehicles, so it’s pedestrian only (although I did see some bicycles slide past on the side streets).

Steven in front of Quay's.
We ate on the 2nd floor.

Eventually we did find the pub I’d seen online, but we liked the menu of Quay’s better, so we backtracked and ate there instead. It was early (4:00 PM), so no crowd yet. It filled up as we ate, though, so I’m glad we’re still partly on New York time.

Speaking of which, we headed back to the hotel right after dinner. By that point, we’d wandered nearly a mile from the hotel. Good walking! The drizzle had stopped and the sun came out – a beautiful night for a stroll.

And that’s our first day in Ireland!

Just how many times can I pack?

One year ago today, my husband and I started out on our Trip of a Lifetime. We left home for Toronto with a stop at Niagara Falls along the way (because we'd stopped there on our honeymoon - which was also in Toronto) and stayed overnight there, then caught our plane for Rome. We'd planned a week taking a Mediterranean cruise, embarking at Rome, then going 'round to Palermo, Naples, Livorno, Genoa, Toulon and getting off at Barcelona. From there, a short plane ride to Dublin and then another week tooling around the Emerald Isle.

You know what happened. We never made it to Ireland. We had a grand adventure, just not the one we planned.

Last year I packed, repacked, packed again. I weighed the suitcases, measured them, unpacked, repacked, measured and weighed again. We decided to take one carry-on each (besides our laptops) and one MONSTER suitcase (that would have to be checked). Initially we didn't want a checked bag because we didn't want to spend extra time in the airport, but my husband is a painter and wanted his travel easel. It's wooden, carryable, but still took up nearly the entire extra suitcase.

This year, he's decided to leave the easel home and bring a light-weight one that's much more manageable. He can put it in his briefcase, along with several small tubes of paint. So we're back to the one laptop case and one small carry-on - nothing checked!

Of course, that means being very judicious about what I bring. One color scheme (purple, of course. I packed a single print skirt that has many colors - each T-shirt/blouse matches it so I can mix and match as needed). I left the scarf out, and am taking only a light rain jacket (and will probably wear it so I don't need to pack it). No sweatshirt or sweater. I figure I can buy one there. If we need to get another suitcase or if I overpack on the way home? That's fine. I don't mind waiting at the Toronto airport for luggage - we're going home. It's wasting time in foreign lands I don't want to do.

But I'm a little more relaxed about the process this year. I've already packed and am right at the limit, pound-wise, so I might do a little more readjusting, but other than that? I'm good.

I'm also excited as heck! Eight days in Ireland and six in Scotland. I'm hoping to meet up with Cait Miller, a fellow member of the Sizzling Scribes while we're there. My husband teases me that I expect to see Jamie and Claire, too, but pish! I'll just visit places mentioned in the book.

Watch this blog for travel updates - I'll post when I can. Last year I had to wait until we were home because the ship's WiFi was exorbitant and I didn't spend enough time on shore to post much. This year, we're on land the entire trip and the B&B's and hotels all have WiFi, so it should be easier.

And as for volcanoes? Several people have told me they're glad I'm staying away from those this year. Little do they know, I'm planning to climb Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh - which is an extinct volcano! Don't worry, though. I've also told my husband it's HIS turn to get us a first class seat on the way home. :)

Play safe, and I'll see you in Ireland - or Scotland!

Diana

PS. Watch for a new feature coming to the blog on June 1st! I think you'll like it. :)

Whee! Post hits...or not

I generally check traffic stats to this site about once a week, just to see if anyone is out there. When there is no Google Adwords campaign going, I generally get double digit hits each day, making a grand weekly total of three to four hundred hits a week.

So you can imagine my surprise when the blog got 843 hits yesterday. You read that right. Double what I get in a typical week in a single day.

Naturally, I'm curious as to what pages got all those views - and every one of them was from 2013. Hmmm....And where do the viewers come from? This is where it gets interesting.

I stopped running the AdWords campaigns because most of the hits I was getting were from bots - basically unmanned computers trolling for weaknesses they could exploit in a website. The viewed numbers were increasingly skewed by these bots and getting an accurate read nearly impossible. So I cancelled the ads and watched my numbers plummet - to reality.

Most of those bots are located in the countries you'd expect: Russia, Pakistan, China. But yesterday's hits were from Good O'l US of A bots - over a thousand and a half of them in the past week.

Now I'd love to believe that all those views were real people who suddenly got interested in my books/site/life, but then, I'd like to believe in unicorns, too. How do I know they're not real? Because nothing else rose with the increase in views (okay, get your minds out of the gutter!!! :) ). No increase in sales or interest on Smashwords or Amazon, no increase even in looking at the tabs across the top of the site. Only individual hits on very old pages. That says bot, not person.

For those of you who ARE real ... and I know I have a few readers in Russia, Pakistan and China as well as many other countries...The protection against attacks is one of the reasons I stay with Blogger as my website host. It isn't the greatest in form or ease of setting up pages (not WYSIWYG), no way to do direct sales from the site - but also no viruses getting through, no malware or other nasty things that mess up computers and lives.

So thank you to those of you who are real...and pftttt to the bots who aren't!

Play safe,
Diana

An Outlandish Post

Started this post a while back and got sidetracked. Revised and here it is now.

Long-time followers of my blog know I'm a big fan of Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series. With the advent of the Starz series, even more people have fallen in love with Jamie and Claire and the world they inhabit. And it's pretty obvious Ron Moore, the showrunner for the series, is also a fan, based on tiny touches we've seen that allude to events several books away from where they are now.

There are several fan groups dedicated to the books, the series, or both and one of the recurring ideas that pops up is the wish that Jamie could travel forward to Claire's time. It's an established protocol in the books that he cannot. He does not "hear" the stones the way Claire (and others) do, and I, for one, am glad. He's her anchor in time, her North Star that remains fixed and grounds her. He needs to stay put for reasons outlined below

SOME SPOILERS FROM HERE, so if you're watching the series or haven't read past Dragonfly in Amber, you may want to stop here!!!




Claire leaves her time in 1968 to go back to Jamie. Even if she could bring him back, what time would they return to? The last time she made the jump, she'd lost three years of present time (because she'd spent those three years of her life in the past). This time, she's been there a little over twelve years. Should she step back through the stones now, she'd arrive in 1982 (yes, I know 1968+12=1980, but Diana G. seems to have set up an extra two years in the jumps. This site has a great timeline of events if you want to see).

Besides hairstyles and clothing and the adjustment of some political parties, 1982 isn't all that different from 1968. There haven't been major technological advances, although medicine has made great advances in vaccines. Of course, Claire understands what a vaccine is and the use of them wouldn't surprise her.

So really, her coming back to 1982 wouldn't be such a big deal. The Apple IIe is still a year away from hitting the market, as is the first commercially available cell phone (I have a story about that, but will tell it some other time). There are Bulletin Board Systems (BBS) that are available, but only a few thousand are using them (Diana Gabaldon being one!). The explosion of computer technology will happen within a year of Claire's (and, ostensibly, Jamie's) return.

And then what? Claire might adapt to the changing technologies but she's 50 years old in 1968, which means,if she were alive, right this minute? She'd be 98 years old. How many 98 year-olds do you know who do well with smartphones, computers, ATM's?

And Jamie? We love him because he can handle every situation. Not always with grace, but certainly with panache. He loves hard, lives hard, fights hard. Can you see him anywhere in the 21st century? There is no place for him and he'd end up useless and pitied.

No, leave Jamie in the past where he's the man I've come to love. I mean the man readers have come to love. :) Don't bring him forward - and leave Claire in the past as well. Let her be the heroine, saving lives and having adventures. I do NOT want to think of either of them sitting in a nursing home watching the world go by.

All this is a long way of saying, trust the author. Let her move her characters as she envisions them. Fan fiction has a place, but leave them in their own time period.

Rant over. :)

Play safe,
a different Diana LOL

Sales slumps

As with any business, sales slumps come with the territory. In publishing, genres seem to come and go in waves of popularity. While Romance as a category always sells well, the divisions within it change. Westerns are popular for a while, then Scottish Highlanders. Erotica will sell, then everyone's writing steamy sex scenes and the backlash goes to sweet romances or shapeshifters. Or paranormal. You get the drift.

My sales numbers have plummeted over the last six months. Partly that's because I only had one new title (Winter Break) but even that book hasn't done as well as past titles. It's no secret Ellora's Cave is behind in their royalty payments - I eagerly check each week to see if maybe this will be the week they catch me up, but it hasn't happened yet. Soon, I'm sure. They took a chance on me and gave me my start. It is my fervent wish they find their footing and keep going. But even the royalty statements I have gotten show sales for some titles in the single digits for the first time ever.

I suspect the erotica market is now glutted and finding new readers isn't as easy as it used to be with all the authors now choosing to self-publish. The first titles I released on my own did wonderfully well. The last ones? Not so much.

To be honest, I'm starting to grow a bit bored writing erotica, myself. I had a lot of fun with it and am happy to have written as many books in the genre as I did. But it isn't only the marketplace's tastes that change - writer's appetites do, too.

To that end, I've been challenging myself lately, writing in several styles, just for fun. I've written a short story in the Action/adventure genre, several non-fiction travel pieces, and an epic fantasy (that's currently taking up much of my time!).

This isn't to say there won't be more Diana Hunter stories. Hot sex is still fun to write on occasion but honestly? Mystic Shade outsells Diana. You're more likely to see more stories from Mystic than Diana, especially after the egg laid by Winter Break (still don't know if people who bought it liked it or not. Please leave reviews!!!! Good or bad, it's the only way we writers get feedback).

Sales are in a slump and the way out for me is to keep writing. Even one book sold is one more reader touched by the story I've written and that doesn't suck. Reading back on this, it sounds pretty depressing and I don't mean it to be. Waves happen in business. The trick it to keep going. If I stop writing all together? Then I'll never find that next wave to ride, and I'd hate to miss the fun. So don't worry - there will be more books, more stories, more genre to choose from.

In the meantime, play safe - and leave a review!!! :)

Diana