Well, overall, an interesting day

Let me begin with where I left off roughly 26 hours ago. The last you heard of me, I had eaten dinner and was heading out yes? So last night, while in that small town Glengarriff, I went to the local pub. My god what a time was had. It started slow but by the end the place was packed. I did the math and for a town of 600, there are six pubs which means, everyone together, that's right. A pub for every 100 persons.

So I was in the pub that was recommended, and they had live music going on. Traditional Irish music. A guitar, a flute, a fiddle and a drum. It was a joy to listen to. It was all well and good until once I was outside and found myself alone with the guitarist that he insisted I perform in some capacity. Well needless to say, I was not in any position to perform, but he was firm.

I did. And to my own horror I found myself singing Tom Petty's Free Falling, not only in front of a whole town of locals but with an Irish back up band to boot! And I did it terribly. I had to rectify the situation. How can I entertain these musical people? Then finally it occurs to me. Jokes! I know any number of jokes!

Well, in my infinite wisdom, I laid down one of my Irish jokes on them. You know the ones...where I use the accent? Well, there was definitely a brief moment of silence after the first, but thankfully it was broken by the 80 year old women sitting next to me cackling and smacking my ass. That led to two more jokes. What an incredibly welcoming community.

So this morning I woke up and headed to breakfast. This is just as good a time as any to let you know that yes, I have been eating the traditional Irish breakfasts every day, and yes I've been eating both the white and black sausages, and o course no, I didn't know what black sausage was. But now I do. And I'm still gonna eat it!

So after breaky, I hit the road. Well, that's not all true. I bought some CD's of traditional music and then hit the road. I decided to avoid the Ring of Kerry on the insistence of every towns person I met and instead navigated the ring of Bearan. I am glad I did. There was not another soul in sight. Not until I completed the ring in Kenmare.

Kenmare is a horrible place. I drove in, parked in this charming little town, and was immediately affronted with what can only be described as the worst sort of American. The tour bus breed. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I skirted the ring of Kerry, cut through Killarney, and found my way to the Dingle Ring. I know, I can't say it enough. Dingle ring. Anyway, tonight I am in Dingle. This town reminds me vaguely of Nantucket at high season: a port town packed with Americans.

However tonight was not a total wash. I made friends with a group of Irish cops on holiday who, by the way, are far more educated that American cops (they were quoting Wilde to me about architecture while challenging me to stump them) and they invited me out for a day trip on their boat tomorrow.

How can I resist?

Tomorrow the sea!