Saturday started off in a fairly benign way. Bob went golfing, somewhere near Dingle, but again I couldn't tell you precisely where. I joined him for breakfast at 8:00 am in the dining room, and our fellow breakfast companion was a fellow who really didn't seem to be firing on all cylinders. I think he was some type of Dingle local who actually lived at the Bay Watch (tee, hee). His conversation started off innocently enough, but things took a strange twist when "Chuck" (his real name is still a mystery) asked us if we knew of anyone that worked at the CIA. I thought at first he was kidding, but Bob and I both realized after a moment that he was indeed serious. We both of course said no, we don't know anyone. And "Chuck" says, "Oh. Well, I have some information about the 9/11 attacks that I've been trying to relay to a CIA man. I knew about the attacks 9 months before they happened." Our response? "Oh." I mean, what can you say to that? He then went on, "A few months ago a person here knew of a CIA man in Palm Beach and I told him to have the man contact me. I never heard from him, though." No SHIT, Sherlock.
Anyway, "Chuck" finished his breakfast and went on his merry-CIA-man-hunting way. Bob and I finished yet another calorie-busting "full Irish" and he left for golf, while I, I'm ashamed to say, crawled back into bed and slept until 11:40 am. I'm on VACATION, dammit!
After I woke up (the second time), I quickly showered and set about exploring Dingle. I walked up and down all the streets and poked my head into a few shops. You all will be proud of me--I didn't buy ONE thing.
It started to drizzle a little, so I ducked into John Benny's again, found a cozy seat near a window, ordered a Guinness and hunkered down for nice read (Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, if you're wondering). Bob eventually showed up around 4:00 pm, then left again to do some wandering of his own. After he returned, we wandered around town for a bit and then finally decided on The Dingle Pub for dinner. I had shepherd's pie, and Bob had Irish Stew. I had a glass of wine, figuring that would be my drink of choice for the evening. I was all Guinness'ed out.
After dinner, we roamed the town again, checking out the bars. We finally decided on The Small Bridge Pub as the bar of choice. The bar is huge and has a great atmosphere. Dark, with lots of stone and four bars serving alcohol in it. It was my favorite one in Dingle.
Anyway, "Chuck" finished his breakfast and went on his merry-CIA-man-hunting way. Bob and I finished yet another calorie-busting "full Irish" and he left for golf, while I, I'm ashamed to say, crawled back into bed and slept until 11:40 am. I'm on VACATION, dammit!
After I woke up (the second time), I quickly showered and set about exploring Dingle. I walked up and down all the streets and poked my head into a few shops. You all will be proud of me--I didn't buy ONE thing.
It started to drizzle a little, so I ducked into John Benny's again, found a cozy seat near a window, ordered a Guinness and hunkered down for nice read (Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, if you're wondering). Bob eventually showed up around 4:00 pm, then left again to do some wandering of his own. After he returned, we wandered around town for a bit and then finally decided on The Dingle Pub for dinner. I had shepherd's pie, and Bob had Irish Stew. I had a glass of wine, figuring that would be my drink of choice for the evening. I was all Guinness'ed out.
After dinner, we roamed the town again, checking out the bars. We finally decided on The Small Bridge Pub as the bar of choice. The bar is huge and has a great atmosphere. Dark, with lots of stone and four bars serving alcohol in it. It was my favorite one in Dingle.
Towards the back of the bar, they had a huge flat-screen showing some type of athletic contest. We starting watching it, along with a few locals who were gazing at it intently. As we watched, we were actually unable to figure out what the hell kind of sport they were playing. It wasn't rugby, not soccer, not field hockey, not lacrosse, and not cricket--although it appeared to have elements of each in it. It was brutal, I can tell you that. Each player wore only a "rubgy" shirt and very short shorts, and cleats. Some men wore helmets (smartly), but most didn't. Each man had a stick that resembled a hockey stick, but was much shorter. And they would lob this small rubber ball up and down the field--either with the stick or their hands--and try to beat the piss out of one another in the process. At either end of the field, there were goalposts that had a soccer neat beneath it that they would try to lob the ball through to score. After the game was over, we were still completely confused as to what we had witnessed, but we meandered back to the front bar where there would be music playing later.
This is where the wheels started to fall off the wagon. We continued drinking--me, wine; Bob, Guinness--and the bartender asked us where we were from. We of course answered, "Pennsylvania". A few minutes later this very tall guy turned around to us and said, "Did I hear you mention you're from Pennsylvania? You have a big election coming up there, don't you?" Again--we can't escape the hype. Turns our the tall guy (Billy) and his wife (Cora), were in Dingle for the night for a much-needed "Parents Night Out". There were about our age, and great fun! We ended up hanging out with them for the rest of the evening, swapping parenting stories, talking US Politics, and general life stuff. Billy also revealed to us what the "mystery sport" was--hurling! It's apparently an Irish thing and is huge over here. Oh, and I should add we drank. And drank. And drank. Billy would buy us a round. We'd then have to reciprocate and buy them a round. And so on.
It all went downhill from there. All I know is that we eventually left The Small Bridge Pub, and went back the The Dingle Pub, where we ended up closing the bar at 1:00 pm. The only reason Bob was able to drag me away from chatting with Cora was that he insisted he was about to puke. OK--time to leave! We said our good-bye's, exchanged e-mail information, and went back to the Bay Watch (tee, hee). Somehow we managed to get back into our room, even though there were NO lights on. And then we passed out.
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