Cork City Blues

Hello again! Here’s a long post to wrap up our week-long road trip. I took the first part, our visit to Cork, and then, for the next post,  I turn the reins over to Denise to tell us about the visit to her ancestral home in Tipperary. Read on…

If you are jonesing for Junior Mints in Ireland…

We pick up the story as we arrive in Cork, hard on the south coast, and the second biggest city in Ireland. We have been country mice for the last month and, as we approach the city, everything goes to hell in a handbasket. On the GPS, Denise notices a large, rush hour traffic jam on our intended route and we decide to navigate around that. Of course, the alternative plan puts us in an even worse situation, since there are traffic lights and city buses galore on the road, slowing our approach to a crawl. We try to detour around the mess and end up in the downtown core of the city, where many of the streets are pedestrian-only, and soon we are arguing just like the good old days when we would bicker over the best way to make it across San Francisco or Portland. We are trying to find a place where we can get takeaway food for our hotel room but the narrow, one-way streets are inhospitable for stopping and we finally decide to make a beeline for our hotel, a few miles north of the downtown. We arrived at the opulent grounds of the Vienna Woods hotel — obtained at a deep, off-season discount on www.bringfido.com — hungry and grumpy, and settle for splitting a room service meal. 

When Denise was checking in, the front desk clerk asked about our breakfast plans — apparently a national obsession — and we signed up for the first seating, hoping to get up and into the city early. The clerk also mentioned that the hotel’s dog policy only allowed small animals, and our dog was obviously way outside of their limit. (We didn’t let Coco hear her weight-shaming.) Denise turned on the charm and convinced them that Coco would be no problem despite her size and they agreed to waive the rules for us. We ate dinner while watching one of the many popular primetime Irish games shows, and collapsed into the luxurious beds, exhausted after nine hours on the road. 

Even our lux experience in Killarney didn’t prepare us for the breakfast here among the faded splendor of Vienna Woods. We arrived as the lone diners at the appointed hour were shown to our table in a room with ornately-carved dark wood, with one whole wall taken up by the baroque fireplace-bookcase. It seemed more like the place where the men would enjoy their post-hunt Brandy and cigars than a breakfast hall but we were happy to have such grand surroundings.  The spread was generous, including a full honeycomb that we had to ask our waitress how use — we heathens are used to the little packets.  Once again, the charges were ambiguous, and we were offered hot food after helping ourselves to the buffet. I opted for the cheese omelet and soon served a thick, dinner plate-sized meal that was more quiche than omelet. It was perfectly baked and delicious, but probably enough for three breakfasts. I found out later that the buffet was included with the room but the hot dish set me back five euros, certainly a bargain. 

After a quick walk around the grounds with Coco, we headed into the city, determined to soak up some art, history, and do a little shopping for the gifts we would bring to the Slatterys of Tipperary. Denise was able to make a quick run through The Crawford Art Gallery, a free museum funded by the Crawford family, and housed in the old Customs House, while Coco and I waited patiently across the street, nursing a cappuccino at the Costa. We tried to do some sightseeing but were constantly being stopped on the street by strangers who wanted to talk to us about Coco. It seems that standard poodle are somewhat rare in Ireland and people wanted to stop us and say “hi” and, of course, show us pictures of their dogs. One street conversation with a pleasant employee of the nearby jail on his lunch break was so cordial and lasted so long that we thought for sure he was going to invite us along on his upcoming holiday. 

Naked guys at the Crawford

Socialism at work

We took a walk across the (filthy) River Lee and up into the working class immigrant neighborhood and saw how those people lived, crowded into 19th-century row houses, a sharp contrast to the gleaming condos popular in the downtown area. We skipped The Butter Museum and walking tour of the University as we were fading fast and wanted to get back to the hotel for a nap. I had been looking forward to a taste of the city but, after a few hours, we both had our fill. Maybe a month in the countryside had dulled our edge or maybe we were just tired, but we both were done with Cork. 

The River Lee. Love that Dirty Water…

A statue honoring native son and musician Rory Gallagher

Never ones to be persuaded by the FiTimes, we missed it. 

St. Vincent’s in the Shandon District

The next morning, we enjoyed another leisurely breakfast, soaking up every bit of this discount luxury while we could. We took Coco on a long walk through the surrounding woods and then loaded the car and headed north to Tipperary. We stopped for lunch at the parking lot of Cahir Castle, a well-preserved building on the banks of the River Suir (and location for many movies and television shows), before traveling on to the ruins of The Rock of Cashel, an important stop for fans of St. Patrick. We had time to find our Airbnb, a converted outbuilding on a farm in the foothills of the Galtee mountains, and grab a quick nap before we headed over to the Slattery farm for dinner. See our next installment for that story!

Cahir Castle 

A very exclusive pig farm near our Airbnb