the little travelers * travel notes

the lake district

Much of this trip was planned ahead and we've been dutifully checking off our list as we move along here.  Today was the first day that we really veered off of that path and rearranged a few days and said, "Let's go check out Beatrix Potter's house.  It was about 4 hours out of the way but we were itching for something we knew nothing about.  Of course we did see the movie and the countryside did look stunning so we thought we'd check it out.  And boy was it worth it!  I fell so in love with this part of England today that I felt like renting a little cottage and never leaving.  I know the winter would be miserable for me- so cold and damp- but today I felt like the damp cold would be little price to pay for this kind of scenery.  It was just so cute.  There is no other way to describe it.  Cute.  And really, I'm not usually even into cute.  I'm most usually drawn to warm colors and climates, lots of oranges, reds and dark woods and this didn't really have any of that.  It could be that it just pulled on the heartstrings of my childhood and growing up with Peter Rabbit.  It literally felt like we were in one of her picture books that had magically popped into life.  I was mesmerized.  I was dizzy with delight and these tiny villages  and I fell madly in love with the lake district of England.

At The World of Beatrix Potter all her characters have come to physical reality.  It's kind of like a Peter Rabbit amusement park.  The more serious Beatrix Potter sites like Hilltop, her home frown upon this place and consider it kind of tacky, but I have to say the girls LOVED it!  I did too really.  If the English think this is tacky they ought to check out colored blinking xmas lights on palm trees in Cali in winter!  I would be thrilled with more things like this to do with the kids in the US.  Classical music was playing and you could read her books from LCD panels.  Ok, so they're little computers, but still...they display book pages- nothing animated and nothing that squeaks in a weird voice.  

This place had a few Japanese tourists, who are HUGE into Beatrix Potter.  I'd never heard of this place and there were no other Americans here that we spotted.  Other than a few Japanese it was local English folk and because it's off season and was raining it was hardly crowded at all.  The only bummer was that there was a private party in the cafe so we couldn't eat lunch here, which also looked adorable.

Oh, Mrs. Tiggy Winkle - always so busy!

Searching for Nessie

We have come to Scotland to see castles and Nessie- as cliche as it is.  The drive up to Loch Ness provided landscape as I've never seen before.  All that I'd heard about 'the highlands' never conjured an image as the one that we were presented.  I never imagined the highlands to be yellow.  I imagined rocky green with jutting cliffs, which there were in parts but the whole golden sections with no trees was fascinating.  Definitely not good farm country.  Hard to imagine anyone living and thriving in an area like that.  And again, I was freezing wearing my warmest winter clothes with multiple long undies- and this is their warmest month.  

When we arrived in Loch Ness it was excellent to see entire buildings devoted to The Monster.  Although, much more tastefully done than had Nessie were American, there was definitely still a lovely kitch factor happening.  We found a restaurant that served "Nessie and chips" with tartan plaid carpet and went on a tour boat searching for the dear.  Our captain was to die for - couldn't have concocted a better captain in my own imagination, which tends to be on the prolific side.  I loved every single minute of my time up here- except the shivering part, of course. ...and I"m not telling whether or not our hunt was successful. You'll have to wait for the dvd to find out.

Belfast

I've been looking forward to Belfast just to see what it was like after all I've heard and read about it.  I would say the energy here is not particularly friendly.  I don't mean towards foreigners, I just mean in general.  There is a definite tension in the air- an intensity to this place.  Something about it makes me feel like I could thrive here creatively.  My ex kindly reminds me that I have the same energy as the city- intense and somewhat hostile at times.  Maybe so.  I do have to say that anything/one that interferes with my sense of freedom does bring out the hostile nature of me. 

So, the Protestants vs. the Catholics to me is one of those crazy things like the Honda vs. Toyota- "Um, is their a difference?"  I suppose if you look close enough, but why all the effort when they're essentially the same?  It's not like Mohammad vs. Jesus - all the players are still the same.  They're even using the same book.  

So, the two sides that were fighting all that time are now separated by an enormous wall.  Now that's neighborly love.  Everyone on one side of the wall is getting along pretending they don't know there are others who disagree with them on the other side.

The mural of Bobby Sands who starved himself in protest to all the strife. This is the main entrance to the city off of the freeway and this large wall of political murals is what greets motorists each day. Oh, how I tried to get this picture to be upright! but alas, George is askew and laying down sideways. Maybe it's metaphorical. In any case the caption reads "America's greatest failure." Huge mural, downtown Belfast. Definitely a politically intense city.

The caravan

The adventure started today.  This has been one of the things we've anticipated the most on this trip.  We're spending an entire week here in County Wicklow with one horse and this wooden wagon, known here as a caravan.  We had our training class today, will spend the night here tonight and then take off on our own in the morning.  The trust thing seems so odd to us Yanks.  They're letting us take and care for a horse for an entire week- and we're not horse people!

We need to pack up enough food for the week as grocery stores are not on the route says the brochure. We're takin' a whole lot o potatoes! and we're off! so far everything is going smoothly. The traffic is a little faster than we had anticipated. Truck come whizzing by us at quite a clip. The girls don't notice but I find myself holding my breath each time. When we get to our night #2 spot the other 2 couples that trained with us and set out the same day we did are already here. There are only the two of our caravans here in this huge field and what a view!! It is chilly though in the morning! We all had 'smokey mouth' when waking up. No one was interested in showering this morning. I have on 2 pairs of long underwear under my jeans. But the English couple in the other caravan are wearing shorts. ya, shorts.

It was great having the girls get experience with taking care of a horse. They've had very little horse exposure and are warming up to it quite well. I've been impressed with their self-initiation in getting out all the gear, food, and brushing. They have expressed great interest in living like this forever. "It's way better than living in a house" they say. hmmm...that's going to take a bit of convincing where I'm concerned! I'm feeling mighty proud of myself for doing a whole week, yet a lifetime. This is how many of the gypsies lived with oodles of children and throughout the winter. I keep reminding myself this is the warmest month of the year and I'm freezing most of the time. I cannot begin to imagine winter with a newborn plus 10 more in one of these things.

Aran Island

We took a ferry to Aran island, home of the cable knit sweater.  It was all very quaint and cute, albeit a definite tourist trap.  I can't imagine what it was like in August.  September is absolutely the time to come.  It was intoxicating walking into some of the shops just packed with hand knit woolen items up to the ceiling.  

We learned all about the different Aran stitches, which were used to identify men lost at sea among other things.  Each family had its own sweater patterns to identify themselves.  Interesting concept.  I think the army should adopt it quite frankly rather than dog tags.  And I think the soldiers ought to knit them themselves as well.  A kinder, gentler army.

The arm of our horse and buggy driver- a true Irishman- biting sarcasm, weathered smile and charm for miles.

Gone surfin'

Yup, that's right surfin' the Irish way in Lahinch. All day long I was covered in happy bumps- goose bumps of joy. Growing up in Californian surf towns and spending most of my free time between the ages of 5 and 20 at the beach, I'm partial to these types of settings. But I've never seen a surf board juxtaposed against a sheep dotted hillside. Ok, to be more blunt - I've never seen green next to the ocean period. A park with grass up a hill from the beach, yes- but this was different. The whole thing was very different. Yet, familiar. The boards, the girls in bikinis, the kids eating ice cream. Billabong. Quicksilver. O'Neill. All familiar. But on tanless Irish bodies, new. The waves were tiny. The run ended right into a huge pile of rocks. There was no beach at all- only rocks to lay on. And the place was packed. The weather was that of a January day in Cali, the water icy- but all were out to soak it all in. There were surf shops galore. There were lessons offered all over the place. Coffee shops and snack huts were done up like we were in Jamaica. Bob Marley was playing. It was all too fantastic for words.
The part I loved the most was that this entire subculture was created right here in the middle of the Irish countryside. It felt real. The people living this had really embraced it. It did not feel like a horrible wannabee spot gone wrong. To me this place speaks of possibility- of not using limitations for an excuse not to do something. Now granted they told us that the waves increase in winter here, but on this day the waves were breaking at about 1 to 2 feet. And the place was packed. I actually considered learning here since I've always been chicken to learn at home. The waves off of a boat in a lake are bigger than what we saw today, but that was stopping no one. The entire town was built up as a surf town due to the possibility to be able to surf. Not because they had great surf. Not even what we would consider good surf. But because they could surf. I heart Lahinch.

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Arrive in Dublin

In Dublins fair city, where the girls are so pretty... We are all stuck on sweet Molly Malone. We had a 4 hour drive from the airport to our cottage in county Clare on the narrowest roads I've seen since Japan. Japan has concrete gutters on either side of a narrow road that you cannot see but notice once your car suddenly is at a 45 degree angle to the ground. Oops, too far. Here in Ireland there are stone walls on either side of the very narrow roads and people drive fast. Really fast. We were all blinking with shoulders pulled up around our ears at each passing. The good news is that part of the day was sunny. Everyone we met was sure to let us know that this was the first blue sky they've seen in 73 days! It is September 2nd today. That means their entire summer was spent in the rain. And the Irish do not use the word 'rain' lightly either like we do in California. Light rain is called a 'soft' day and not rain. They say it rained for 73 days straight. We of course have come wanting rain to show off our cute wellies and use umbrellas. The girls have only had a handful of opportunities to use these odd commodities where we come from. The cottage is adorable. The setting perfect. Cows across the street and a creek behind the house. Simply charming.