Marble Arch Caves, Bundoran, Northern Ireland

Day 6

We managed to get up at a reasonable hour as the four of us were planning a visit to the Marble Arch Caves just outside of Enniskillen about 2 hours drive from Eamon's house. The caves fantastic. They were well lit with many interesting and otherworldly formations. There's something strange and compelling about actually being deep within the earth.

It was late afternoon by the time we emerged form the caves. Eamon thought our next destination should be the seaside town of Bundoran, where we could watch the sunset from the mighty cliffs that over look the Atlantic ocean. Stepping out of the car we first caught glimpse of this immense panorama of wind, water, beach and surf. A really remarkable view. Eamon took us down a path that led across the “Fairy Bridges,” and over to the famous Wishing Seat. From this magnificent perch we contemplated and vagueries of life and hoped for universal enlightenment for all.

We finished the evening off with a wonderful dinner at Patricia's restaurant, a neat little establishment situated on the main street overlooking the ocean. The only drawback was the long drive back to Eamon's which we didn't achieve until well after midnight. Fortunately, as the sun doesn't truly set here until after 11 pm, the ride was not completely unproductive as we were able to see cottages in some of the smaller villages with thatched roofs as well as the numerous stone walls that make the Irish countryside so appealing.

Beltany Stone Circle, Northern Ireland

Day 5

Due to our continual struggle with jet lag, we didn't get up and about until after noon. Paula had the day off from work at the Ulster Folk Park and Museum and Eamon was up and raring to go. He wanted to first give us the tour of his property, all 20 acres of it. Most of the pasture is rented out to a local hay farmer but there's still plenty to see. He has completely renovated the old family homestead and it is thoroughly modernized with several additions.

After lunch we hopped in the car to visit An Creagan, an historic bronze age theme park located just outside Omagh. That was enjoyable and we learned a lot about bronze age living, however, we were more interested in the even more ancient neolithic sites. Consulting the map we located our first stone circle at nearby Beltany. This one was a little difficult to reach, or should I say find. Since there are so many ancient sites in Ireland, many of the lesser known places are often deserted. Beltany was one such place. We finally reached it on top of a hill, and after the sheep scattered, we walked among, through and around the stones marveling at their placement, construction and purpose. Though thousands of years old and slowly falling apart, the henge still exudes a powerful presence. The diameter and sheer number of stones involved in the structure is a marvel. One can only imagine what it looked like and what kinds of ceremonies and rituals were performed here. My current theory is that the early builders used the stone circles to communicate with spirits either dead or in another dimension. I think the entire community participated in the gathering and consumption of psychedelic mushrooms that perhaps no longer grow in Ireland. Inside the circle was a sacred domain, while outside was the profane. Once you entered the circle all the normal rules of the outside world ended. Through the use of psychotropic drugs the veils separating different realities vanished. Magic, or what seemed like magic, permeated existence within the stones.

Hill of Tara, then on to Northern Ireland

Day 4

After another mighty breakfast we trundled back upstairs and packed our gear. Today was the day I was to pick up the car. Stowing our luggage in the downstairs foyer, we started on foot to the Budget rental office. The weather was good, sunny and warm. The office was less than a mile away so we got to see a different side of the city.

Upon arrival, the clerk informed me that my Visa card would not cover the insurance and that if had an accident, I'd be liable for the entire bill. I thought this was a rip-off considering I had called Visa before leaving and they assured me I would not need to purchase additional insurance but now, here in Dublin, the guy behind the desk was adamant. I didn't know exactly what to do, however, since I'd be driving in a foreign country on small, narrow roads as well as on the left side, I decided not to take a chance. Once they brought the car around, a new 2010 Peugeot diesel with less than 2000 miles on it, I felt I'd made the right decision. On both the left and right rear fenders were substantial scratches that would certainly have cost the previous driver a generous donation.

The journey back to the Abbot Lodge probably took longer with the car than on foot. The signs are confusing and I managed to make a few wrong turns to make matters worse. Anyway, we retrieved our things and set out to visit Eamon, a good friend of mine who lives near Omagh, in Co. Tyrone, Northern Ireland.

Once we got out of the city I felt a little more relaxed behind the wheel, the first few roundabouts notwithstanding. The Irish by now must be used to seeing drivers go round and round these traffic circles because no one so much as beeped their horn regardless of the number of laps I made until I could figure out which exit to take.

One of the first little towns we stopped in was Slane (or Slane's Bridge) near where the famous Battle of the Boyne was fought. We didn't stop to visit the battlefield principally because I knew the outcome and didn't really want to relive the source of protestant hegemony in Ireland. Besides, I was much more interested in walking on the nearby Hill of Tara. This is where the high kings of Ireland were crowned. One could easily imagine all the tents, pageantry and associated goings on when the court was in session. From the top one can see for many miles in all directions. I walked up the Route of the Chieftains, the very same way Brain Boru would have taken when he was made king. I was hoping to feel some tingling or DNA activation but such was not the case. For a moment there, as we lay in the high grass, with the late afternoon sun above us, it was pleasant enough to dream.

Back in the car we continued our journey north. I was surprised to learn there were no borders or check points between the two political entities. The only way I knew we were in Northern Ireland was that all the road signs were now in miles rather kilometers. Within an hour we were in Omagh, the site of the last senseless bombing that helped bring about the Good Friday peace accord that is still in effect today. I got out the Blackberry and tried calling Eamon. I knew he was in town awaiting our arrival so he could show us the way to his farmhouse in Drumnakilly, about 6 miles outside of Omagh. Unfortunately, I couldn't get through. There are too many codes and prefixes to enter just calling from Dublin to Omagh, no more than 150 miles apart, yet continents away as far as the telephone companies are concerned. Anyway, since I had his address I decided to just try and drive to his home. This proved more difficult than it seemed until Carol was able to talk to a pedestrian who happened to know Eamon and gave us directions to his house.

I was somewhat tentative pulling up the driveway. Long ago Eamon had showed me pictures of the farmhouse and this looked nothing like what I remembered. Anyway, we drove up and were greeted by Paula, Eamon's girlfriend for the last 5 years. She called Eamon, who was waiting in a pub in Omagh for our call, and told him we had arrived on our own. He said he'd be home shortly after finishing his pint and picking up pizza.

After the second pot of tea we were chatting away as if we'd last seen each other 10 days ago rather than the ten years it was in actuality. Old friends are like that. They always seem to make one feel comfortable and welcome. Eamon and Paula sure did.

Newgrange, Knowth - Passage Tombs, Ireland

Day 3

After another night of altogether too little sleep, we headed back down the 6 flights of stairs for our appointment with another huge Irish breakfast. Today we couldn't return to our room for our customary nap because we were headed for our first neolithic venture. Carol had booked us with a small tour operator to drive us up to Newgrange where we would have a guided tour of both Knowth and Newgrange, prehistoric wonders predating the Pyramids. They are so incredible, and the implications as to how and why they were constructed and by whom leaves one quite bewildered. One cannot leave such places without a deep sense of awe and mystery, not only about the ancient builders but also on the meaning and purpose of our own lives. Labeled as passage tombs, I wonder. Was the veil separating various worlds or dimensions more transparent in those times? Could initiates move between different realities at will? How were these massive stones moved? As there are no written records to explain these structures, everything is conjecture. Nobody knows anything for sure, which means that anything is possible. The forces that govern the world today may very well be quite different than those operating some five thousand years ago.

Crawling through the entrance to Newgrange and up the passageway to the end of the tunnel, the docent explains the corbelled technique the builders employed to seal the chamber. The symbols chiseled into the stone must have had a meaning, purpose or function of some sort, yet they remain unexplained. Before returning to the outside world, the docent turns off the light for a minute or two, plunging the group into complete darkness. It's an eerie feeling being inside a 5000 year old passage tomb that might very well not be a tomb but rather a mysterious passage to some unknown destination or dimension. This hypothesis is not as far fetched as the current explanation for these structures. Consider the amount of time and energy that would have had to be expended by a small population of neolithic people to provide a tomb for one person or even a family of people? Not likely. There's nothing in the historical record to suggest that a massive construction and engineering feat such as Newgrange could have been undertaken for the the sole benefit of a single person or family. Whatever its purpose, it had to have had some tangible benefit for the entire settlement. Whatever the ultimate explanation, I do believe it will not be the one that historians are currently peddling. It was nice pondering all of these things as we walked along the beautiful River Boyne back to our pickup point.

The bus ride back to Dublin had me in a contemplative mood. The whole complex is mind blowing; there really isn't any other way to describe the ruins. Just strolling the site is beneficial regardless of conclusions. The ruins force one to consider other realities and trains of thought. Shutting out the noise of everyday modern life even for an hour or two is undoubtedly restorative.

Along O'Connell Street we found a pizza place and traded impressions over a slice or two. Carol was equally impressed with the ruins, feeling that Knowth was the more mysterious because there were considerably more stone inscriptions to ponder than at Newgrange.

Dublin, Ireland 2010

Day 1

We left Phoenix and landed in Dublin, Ireland, some 13 hours later. It was quite astonishing really. Stumbling around the Dublin airport at 8 am local time, trying to make sense of our new environment took some doing. Upon exiting the terminal, the plan was to catch a bus going into the center of town, one that would deposit us in the vicinity of the Abbott Lodge where Carol had booked our room. However, in order to board the bus we first had to exchange dollars for euros to pay the fare. No easy feat considering we had to juggle all of our luggage as we searched for the exchange bureau. Anyway, we soon found ourselves aboard one of those quaint double-decker buses staring out the window while hurtling headlong into the capital.

So far so good. Unfortunately, nobody, including the driver, had ever heard of the Abbott Lodge much less able to give us directions. Disembarking on O'Connell Street, the main Dublin artery, we set out on foot, map in hand, luggage swinging at our sides, to find this elusive lodge. One of the reasons it took us so long to locate the lodge was that I thought it was going to be in a more fashionable district rather than where it actually was located. The pictures on their web site made it look quite different. Anyway, once we checked in and climbed the five flights to our room without much of a view, we flopped onto the bed and virtually fell asleep before our heads hit the pillow.

Sometime around 8pm we got up, alert and ready to start exploring the city. We walked up O'Connell Street past the famous Post Office, center of the Easter Rising of 1916 that eventually led to Irish independence, then up and over a bridge spanning the River Liffey. After about an hour or so of wandering we decided to head back to the Abbott and work on getting over our jet lag in the privacy of our own room. In spite of its charm, Dublin is a city, like all cities, and is congested, noisy, smelly and takes some getting used to.

Back in our loft, we tried unsuccessfully to get back to sleep. Fortunately, Carol was able to busy herself pouring over maps, brochures and tour guides planning our itinerary while I contended myself reading “Ireland”, a sweeping novel by Frank Delaney that renders an entertaining account of many of Ireland's pivotal historic moments.

Day 2

Somewhere around five in the morning sleep overcame us. This state did not last long because I had set the Blackberry alarm to go off at nine. Since I had paid for breakfast, I had no intention of sleeping through it. Therefore, groggy though we were, we marched back down the stairs to the cavernous basement to consume a prodigious full Irish breakfast. These breakfasts, we were to soon to learn, were essentially all you can eat affairs. We certainly weren't shy about consuming the eggs, bacon, beans, bread, cereal, sausage, juice and coffee that was set before us. Afterward, in a now rather bloated condition, we trundled back up the now 6 flights of stairs to our top floor aerie to snooze a while longer before tackling the new day.

Emerging from the Abbot, our first destination was the National Museum. The walk was pleasant and necessary considering the amount of food we had recently consumed. The museum houses some of the finest examples of pre-historic artifacts and Celtic treasures that Ireland has to offer. Highly recommended.

After leaving the museum, we stopped at nearby Trinity College. The idea was to have a look at the Book of Kells, the ancient illuminated manuscript that the college had on loan. Once we located the building where it was housed we discovered it was more of a souvenir shop than anything else. As they were charging $10 just to see the book in its glass case we decided to admire the full length posters instead.

Back out in the courtyard, we traversed old cobble stone paths bordered by ivy covered stone walls. There's something inherently satisfying about wandering around a revered institution of higher learning, knowing that men of genius trod these same paths. The world constantly changes but the desire for a quality education never goes out of fashion.

Retracing our steps we were soon through the college gates and back into the bustling city. Strolling down O'Connell Street, we decided to stop at Flanagan's, a popular traditional restaurant, for our first Irish dinner. Located near the giant needle, we were served a sumptuous meal that immeasurably put to rest the notion that Irish servings were quite small in comparison to their American counterparts. This idea was put into our heads by a nice Irish woman Carol met on the inbound flight.

Afterwards we decided to test our endurance and cross over the hay'- penny bridge in search of some Irish night life in the Temple district. Can't say we were too successful in this endeavor as none of the pubs we walked by seemed particularly inviting. I just can't quite get my head around why people are so attracted to noisy, crowded bars. Fortunately, on our second pass we found a quieter pub where we could carry on a conversation and enjoy a pot of tea.