Mother Nature – Page 6 – Two Travelin' Chicas…

Do you know?

Since the 26th of July, Chris and I have been house and pet sitting in Yator, Granada, Spain. It’s a sleepy little town with only one tiny cafe on the main street. The town is in an area called Camino Montenegro.

We agreed to do a pet/house sit for a German expat who owns a little farm up on the mountain outside of Yator. It’s a tiered farm with several raised gardens of all the normal vegetables, fruit trees, including pomegranate, apple, cherry, lime and figs. There’s a patch of just tomato plants and a vine garden of peas, beans, assorted squash, melons and cucumbers. There is also 30 or more olive trees, heavy with fruit, and two large Spanish Almond trees full of nuts.

Each morning we water all the trees and gardens, by hand, plus the ornamental plants on all three levels. In the cool morning air, hangs the scent of honeysuckle from the numerous honeysuckle vines covering the red dirt. Growing wild throughout the property are the herbs, rosemary and oregano, and the raised gardens have basil, parsley and chives. Basically, we have all the food we could ever need or want from the land. Watering of all these delicacys is done by gravity fed hoses at several stations throughout the property and takes about and hour and a half with both of us watering.

The water we drink comes from a spring located even further up the hill and 3 times a week we must turn on the feed to fill the water tank with fresh spring water. The tank is about 14 feet square by 14 feet deep. With the watering, showers and daily consumption, we take the tank down about 2 feet a day. The water is cold and clear and tastes delicious without the chemical additives in normal tap water.

One thing that has always been hard for us, since we’ve been in the road, has been getting vegetables into our diet. They are bulky and took up a lot of room when we lived in the van, and traveling around Europe for the last 3+ months, we’ve been at the mercy of the restaurants to get our veggies. Mostly we get potatoes or something that resembles squash, always over cooked or fried, and never fresh.

For the last 3 weeks, we have been eating fresh from the gardens, trying out new roasted veggies, beets, carrots and leeks. We’ve been making home-made salsa from the tomatoes we grow and the purchase of peppers and onions from women set up on street corners, selling the excess from their gardens, harvested that same day. Cooking meats with the herbs we grow and making delicious side dishes with the variety of squashes we grow. We’ve been making fresh salads with the lettuce, carrots and cucumbers we grow. It is very rewarding.

It is such a huge thing to know where our food is coming from, how fresh it is, that it is grown without chemicals and picked by our own hands. There’s something to be said for that, which never really crossed my mind until now.

Do you know where your food comes from? There are horrifying documentaries on how our food is grown, the process and effect of GMOs, fertilizers and other chemicals used to produce bigger yields and to keep the pests away. The impact we are having on the land, water and our bodies. I guess it took us slowing down here, putting in the effort and love it takes growing our own truly organic food, and being enlightened by these documentaries, to really understand and come to value this little humble farm.

Our next few months will be spent in Montenegro and perhaps Bosnia, both countries pride themselves on their clean food, clean air and clean water. I hope that we have learned a lesson and will begin to appreciate locally sourced food, grown with love, sweat and clean practices. Perhaps our carbon footprint will get even smaller which for us, is something we are proud of.

Portugal Has my Heart

Today we left Portugal, just a little over a month since we first landed in Lisbon on June 6th. I really feel like we just skipped across the surface of this beautiful country. We enjoyed the culture in each of the places we hit. Here’s a list: Lisbon, Sintra, Madeira Island, São Miguel Island Açores, Carvoeiro, and Faro. I really can’t say I have a favorite since each place held its own beauty.

I have enjoyed the history in each area. From medieval castles in the fog to sun drenched beaches and walled cities. A proud people with a very long history. The architecture speaks to the conquers and conquests. The constant fight for freedoms that each and every soul cherishes today. Generations upon generations holding tight to their own history and lineage, some thriving and some still scratching by, but proud and kind at the very core.

Each island we visited, we wound our way through the tiny streets and alleyways of the small towns, getting lost in the brightly colored row homes, stacked like a precarious game of dominos, doors open and the aroma of home cooked foods wafting into these small spaces. The murals and graffiti splashed on the side of the buildings, telling the story of some soul, screaming to the world, we are here…we are alive! The hidden swimming holes, waterfalls and volcanic grottoes, gems of wonder for the explorer. The incredible greens of the natural forests, sprinkled with brightly colored flowers lining the roads and lonely pathways winding through the great calderas, exploding into the minds eye. The lazy, un-rushed pace of the locals creating a sleepy, content atmosphere for the traveler of these islands.

Back on the mainland are the remains of wars, epitaphs to great warriors, conquers and the down trodden. Cafes spilling out into the streets and back alleyways creating a gathering of locals and travelers alike, an escape from the heat of the day. The smell of pastries and fresh brewed coffee hanging on the fresh morning air invites passers-by to sit and indulge. The carefully patterned cobbled stones beneath your feet placed stone by stone generations ago. Cobbled streets, never meant for a gas powered vehicle, now feel the weight of cars trying to pass safely through these tiny spaces. Cars parked on the sidewalks and roads now built right up to front doors…evolutionary progress.

It was in one of these cities, Vale do Lobo, that I took the brave step to correct my back issue which was throwing a very dark cloud over all this beauty, making it hard to envelope and enjoy all that our journey gave us. A procedure that relieved me of pain I’d been living with for years. Amongst the ancient must also be a place for the progressive and new. A heart felt thanks for the guidance and surgical prowess of the Algarve Pain Centre and the caring doctors, all named Miguel, that are trend setting medical procedures. The new must find a place with the traditions of old to continue a cultural growth and inspire its youth.

The beauty of the Algarve coast deserves a mention. Another example of the march of time, the limestone holding the world’s history in the fossilized remains of the ancient seabeds, cut away by the fury of Mother Nature herself. Water dissolves rock, wind, and water, carving caverns and designs, no mans hand is capable of. The waves and salt air eroding mans attempt to tame these cliffs and caves. The cliffs, caves and fishermen’s guarded walkways cut into the stones, are now all wonders of color and unfathomed artistic designs of the wind and the waves. Mother Natures pallet.

Portugal, we will someday return to your wonders and continue our explorations to see what more you have to give.

São Miguel: The Green Island

Our time in São Miguel was educational and full of new sights and sounds. It is a volcanic island, considered still active. There are 3 main calderas, the largest and most active is Furnas, last eruption 1650. Inside it’s caldera is several lakes of blue, green and orange. There is a section of bubbling hot mud pots and fumaroles and a small gyser. There is the most amazing castle on Lagoa Verde. It is intricate in design and has made itself part of the surroundings with the various lichen, mosses and plants, growing on the outside of its delicately carved spires.

The town of Furnas is geared around tourists visiting for hiking, bird watching, kayaking and of course soaking in one of the two thermal hot spring pools. most of the restaurants serve a meat stew baked in the volcanic ovens built into the ground. In Furnace again and to the Terra Nostra Parque. I was in heaven. A guy from Boston came to the island and created the most wonderful display of plants and trees from around the globe and they thrive in the humidity and rainfall. There are trees here that at one point were thought extinct and others that are true dinosaurs.

The soaring calderas are heavily draped in clouds and fog most afternoons, adding an eeriness to their already opposing height. They sweep up from the ocean in massive lava cliffs, battered by time and the elements for 300 thousand years, just a hiccup in geological time. They flatten out into a lush green plateau covered in verdant green pastures and farms. Dotted amongst them are the ancient cinder cones, some now also covered in lush green. From the flats the volcanoes shoot literally straight up with deep grottos and gouges cut out by the rain and intermittent lava flows. The flora and fauna is just as amazing. Every color you can imagine is represented here in bloom, insect, lizard, rock or foliage.

There was so much to explore on this small island, from grottos to wall lined streets, beautiful hidden beaches, hikes that when rated as easy, included a 350m rise and fall, some got you lost is thick natural forests and other lead along cliff sides and up into the caldera lakes. There are mirador spots (view points) all along the roads and picnic areas where families can gather and cook up meals. On one Sunday, a feast for St John was being celebrated in one of these little picnic parks. We were looking for the northern most point of São Miguel when Siri lead down a skinny dirt road surrounded by 10’ lava rock walls. We bottomed out several times before we found a pull out and walked the rest of the way. We were not let down. The views were incredible, the best on the island so far. There were basalt tower crystals of octagonal shape, not found in this condition anywhere else on the island. It was simply breath-taking. We walked back to our car and drove back up to the “town” and stopped to eat lunch. A small house stood on the corner that looked like a small cafe, so I wondered in asking if I could buy a couple beers, in my best Portuguese. A small woman sold me 2 out of her fridge (€2) and gave us a bowl of spicey fava beans and we blew kisses to a young girl and traded thumbs up. Another gal came around with a bottle of wine and 2 paper cups and poured us some wine. It’s always fun and scary at the same time to mingle with the locals on this level.

All in all it was a memorable experience and the diversity of flora and fauna, landscapes and brightly colored towns were like out of a fairytale. The work of Mother Nature and the care given by the inhabitants was a carefully orchestrated balance we were glad to experience and become immersed in.

Madeira to São Miguel

Madeira Island is a lovely, lush green island that sits about 500 miles east of Portugal mainland. Volcanic in it’s development, the island has rich soil for growing. It is also mountainous and rich with thermally heated ocean pools on the coast, mostly concentrated in Porto Moniz and Seixal. Don’t be fooled by the “thermally heated” part, these pools are actually cool at 20-22 degrees Celsius (68-70 Fahrenheit) and quite refreshing on a hot day. Porto Moniz is definitely geared around tourism, the shops and restaurants close early as the tour buses leave and the place becomes a ghost town.

We stayed in a lovely, modern guesthouse in between the commercially run “swimming pools” and the natural “free” pools. We were within walking distance of many restaurants, most serving ice cream, pizza, and the local fare.

The last night we found a “local” restaurant serving meat on a skewer, or shish-cá-bobs at home, using Rodízio Grill style long metal spits grilled over an open flame served hanging from a stand for us to pull off as we wished. They also served the “catch of the day”, local breads and octopus based foods, including an octopus sandwich.

One thing we became well aware of while in Porto Moniz and then other eating establishments, sadly there is a locals price and a tourist price and the song and dance the waiters give for why your meal is more than the price in the menu is quite elaborate, ranging from VAT taxes to oh I made a mistake. They often will send out a coligue to accept your payment hoping you don’t notice. Our largest error was around $15 off at a restaurant we found a bit out of the city square. We haggled and still ended up $10 too high. Café Atlântico was the name of this restaurant. Also be aware that they will put bread and some sort of a sauce or perhaps just garlic bread with cheese on your table, much like chips-n-salsa at a Mexican restaurant, but then will charge you if you eat it.

This is one of over 150 tunnels on the island that connects the north, south and west part of Madeira…an engineering feat in and of itself. It used to take over 7 hours to go from Funchal to Punto Moniz, most volcanic islands make you drive up and over then down the other side, now it takes under an hour. Being prone to landslides, this was a viable option and made it easy to travel to all of the island.

This was the alley/walkway into Câmara do Lobos from our hotel.

After several days in Porto Moniz, and driving around to the small villages above the sea cliffs, we drove back through the tunnels to Câmara de Lobos, a sleepy fishing town where everything is also straight up from the sea port. There is a system of steep stairs and “alleyways” to ascend and descend. This town is hundreds of years old and not built for automobile travel. They are making changes and building infrastructure to accommodate busses and trucks, but if you choose to rent a car…make it a really really small one. If you stay up on the hill, chances are you will encounter a small “street” which has two way traffic and is barely big enough for one often with the mirrors having to be folded in.

In town it was fun to see how the sea side villagers are taking plastic, tin and aluminum “trash”, and turning it onto colorful and imaginative artwork. Between the artwork and lights strung high above the streets, the atmosphere is quite festive. Stop in for a sample of a local drink called Poncha. It is said to be the drink of the fishermen, or their medicine. It is a combination of honey, muddled lemon and orange with some peel, sugar and aguardente de cana (rum). It is a traditional drink developed on Madeira and said to be drank before going out at night to catch the Scabbard fish, a long black snake-like fish with huge eyes and a mouth full of fangs. They come up at night to feed and the fishermen are waiting. The meat from these fish is not very oily so it doesn’t taste very fishy but has a mild flavor and firm texture. They are considered a delicacy.

After a week in Madeira, we hopped on an early flight to São Miguel, the biggest island in the Açores. We in arrived Punta Delgada before 7am…earlier than the shops open, with the exception of the coffee shops, so we wondered around the cobbled stone streets and sidewalks. The streets and squares were black and white cobbled stones in flowing swirls with intricate patterns. The store fronts followed the weaving streets, painted in pastel colors with rot iron accents on windows and narrow decks of volcanic stone. Some buildings dating back into the early seventeenth century. Churches and government buildings dotted the corners of the open city squares. Statues to the Archangel Micheal adorned buildings and reflecting pools in the squares. One journey ended and a whole new one was about to begin.

One Door Closes…Another Opens

We set out from Utah over a month ago. We said our farewells and hopped on a plane, one carry-on sized roller bag each, one shared large backpack, and a small carry-on pack each. All our worldly possessions in those bags. It was a bittersweet parting, but the world has become our oyster, and we plan to explore it for a few years. Our goal is to find somewhere we can settle down for a while, but never long enough for the grass to grow under our feet.

Our first stop was Ireland, an incredibly enchanting isle, full of wonderful food, drink, music and genuinely kind people. The scenery was jaw dropping gorgeous, the roads narrow and windy. We rented a camper van from Indie Campers out of Dublin…once a van lifer it’s so hard to break away from the freedom it affords. Our challenge…driving on the left side of the road, in a right hand drive stick shift.

I, being the navigator, was also reminding Chris to turn left stay left and turn right stay left as well. I’d say that after 5 days, she developed the muscle memory it takes to take on manning the controls on her own. For the next few weeks I still had my place not only getting us were we needed to be safely, I gradually returned the turn signals to her. She did splendidly, even coming to complete stops when a large truck or bus was barreling down on us. Next came the round-about or traffic circle. There were normally 3 to 5 exists out of each one it was just picking what one would take you where you needed to go. Mostly we had GPS to tell us where to go. I would sit with my arm out like a compass needle pointing our way through each and operating the turn signal as Chris shifted. What a team we made!

I think what I loved the most about this fine country, was the architecture and the accompanying tales of the families over hundreds of years. Some buildings were built as far back as 1200. Tales of Vikings, Norse, Kings, and many other European invaders and religious conquests.

Political and religious history all incredibly fascinating, and standing in front of you was the building that saw all this history and still stood tall. Generations upon generations of land ownership and the hard work it took to eek out a living. Stories of whole villages wiped out by famine, war or plague. The flight of millions across uncharted waters to the New World of America. Strong and proud people.

Scotland was our next stop. We had made no plans except to rent another van and see where it took us. After the first few days in Ireland, we were in a bit of a panic about driving for another two weeks. Our initial plan was to drive the 515 +/- miles around the North Coast 500. It is a windy, mostly single track, paved road that hugged the north west coast all the way to the most northern tip of Scotland and back down the north east coast. We had seen pictures of the roads, but it was the scenery that was the biggest pull.

When we picked up the van we were thoroughly convinced that we didn’t have the driving skills, or perhaps courage, to take it on, so we began to make other plans. We made our way to Inverness, the start of the NC500 and booked a pitch at a wonderful campground. It was here that an older British man in a camper asked us if we were going to drive the NC500? I stood there as he explained the beauty and the chance to see huge cliffs and mountains. He was so convincing that we could do it, we had to give it a go.

The North Coast 500 started out as a big 4 lane road that meandered through bright yellow fields of grape seed farms, shaggy cows and fields of sheep grazing on the intensely green fields. The first real choice is whether to drive clockwise or anti-clockwise. We chose to do it clockwise so we could get a little more time driving under our belt before we tackled the 12-15% grades on the most northern end. This proved to be a wise move since most do it anti-clockwise. The roads quickly became narrow with a soft side, if at all. We were happy that the Scots weren’t as rock wall happy as the Irish and we didn’t feel that we’d take out the side of the van.

Passing became a common occurrence. It was quite simple really. One vehicle coming would pull off in a ‘passing place’ and flash their lights signaling to the oncoming driver to pass as they waited. This meant that you not only needed to pay attention to the road, but also look further ahead, sometimes a mile. The worst was the big truck, of which we didn’t pass many the first few days. They owned the roads and would rarely even slow down when passing and hardly ever stopped for you to pass. The tour buses as well would take their half out of the middle and some. We found both quite rude. There was one road right off that cautioned campers not to use it and an alternate route, 17 miles out of the way, was recommended. We sided on caution and the drive was spectacular. At the end of everyday of driving tho, Chris was spent. A cold beer was always waiting in the fridge.

Wild camping is allowed in Scotland. There are only a few rules. Don’t block and entrance or road, don’t park in a passing place and mind private property. We didn’t make any reservations hoping we could access some of these wild camping areas. We passed by several lovely pull offs that other campers had chosen but never did wild camp. Mainly because we didn’t want to use the toilet in the van to do anything but pee. The second reason was the fridge in the van ran off the batteries if not plugged in. Our van we built had solar so wild camping for weeks was not an issue. Here tho, if the fridge drew down the battery, there was no AAA or roadside assistance that could bail you out. Established campgrounds cost between €\£ 24-38 a night and all had running water and electric hook ups. This gave us peace-of-mind but also an added expense we didn’t plan on. So be it…from that first night on we made reservations.

We gave ourselves 9 days to do the whole route. By the time we reached Ullapool on the middle west coast however, the roads were getting steeper and the traffic heavier. We chose to head an hour and a half, which really meant 2-3 hours and set out across the middle to Golspie. From there we headed up to the north anti-clockwise, to John O’Groats and Dunnet Bay for a 2 night stay. The huge cliffs were a rookery for seabirds and wind swept green grasses grew right up to the tops, creating an incredibly stark contrast. We camped at Dunnet Bay right at the edge of the sea and nestled in the grass covered dunes. The next morning we set off for the Northern most part of Scotland for an obligatory photo shoot by the John ‘O Groats pole, then headed back down to Inverness and back across to Edinburgh.

The next morning we turned in the van for good. After driving in Ireland and Scotland for a month, it is time to move on to our next stop. Portugal!

All Good Things Must End

Today, we close the circle. Our travels through Ireland will conclude in 24 hours from now. Still, to this day, I’m not over the beauty. The thousands of shades of green. The incredible rich, vibrant colors of all the many flowers blooming as far as the eye can see. The hundreds of castles, churches and abbeys, holding the past inside their rocky, vine covered walls, like ancient time capsules. The bright smiles and chipper hellos from locals and travelers alike. The numerous small towns with their brightly painted buildings and historic pubs. I doubt that the memories will fade anytime soon.

I think the most interesting was hearing stories of the struggles of the proud, hard working Irish. The stories of sorrow and triumph. The strong, proud individuals that tried to make a difference for their countrymen in the time of need. The big men and women with large hands and kind hearts. The thick accents that change slightly as we traveled from county to county.

There were many times that I would be listening to our driver and I could envision the people he was talking about laughing and a dozen small children running around underfoot. The homes and land passed down through generations upon generations. The miles and miles of rock walls, the sheep dotting the green hillsides in white and pastel colors, splashed upon their backs showing ownership. The border collies running after them. Life, so simple and so hard.

The Ring of Kerry

What a glorious day indeed! The Irish coastline of Kerry, a fiord on the southeast side of the island surrounded by the Atlantic, is a magnificent combination of history and lore, blight and famine, conquest and survival. The peninsula is very isolated 179km of narrow, windy roads that takes off out of the small town of Killarney, Ireland. The drive takes approximately 3.5 hours without making any stops.

After our driving experience, we opted into taking a tour so Chris could admire the scenery, and not be so stressed. Turns out this was a fabulous idea and our driver gave us driving tips. He was a 68 year old from the O’Sullivan clan who had personal history living out on the peninsula as a boy. He drove milk trucks from village to village and had quite a reputation. As with all your drivers, he was a wealth of knowledge, singing, reciting poems and passing on the history.

I guess what struck us the most was the incredible shades of green. The incredible contrasts of the yellow Gorse bush or Furze. It is said that Furze bushes, like all other thorny bushes in Ireland such as hawthorn and white thorn, belong to the Sidhe, and often guard their portals to magical realms. It is a magical bush looked over by the fairies of the land. Folklore has it, that if a bride cuts a sprig and puts it in her bride bouquet, she will have all the luck of the Irish.

The Irish Black-faced sheep are also scattered around the towering hill sides. The only way to bring in the sheep from these craggy hillsides is with a sheepdog. I spent about 45 minutes watching one of these small, sure footed dogs in action with his shepherd. Amazing agility and speed, controlled mostly by different whistle tweets from as far as a quarter of a mile. I thought about Gandaulf for a moment and how he loved the chase.

We had a local lunch at “the most beautiful lookout in all of Ireland in fair weather”, or so the sign said. I had my first lamb stew and Chris had the shepherd pie. The view was indeed spectacular of the bay and the mountainous islands as the fog held light to the peeks. A statue of Mary standing on a serpent stood in the middle of a stone ring looking down on us with outstretched hands and a soft welcoming gaze. I felt blessed once more to be having this adventure.

And I step back in time

Today began our Ireland trip. Our jet lag is finally waining and we are getting down to a new circadian rhythm. Overall we are getting into the groove of travel again after quite a long 6 month hiatus.

We grabbed a taxi into the little town of Blarney, on the southern coast just a few miles north of Cork. The history of Ireland is steeped in powerful lords and many wars. The landscape is dotted with castles and villages surrounding these monolithic towers of rock, most all older than the first settlements in the US. Even the woolen mill was older than my first “historic registry” home in Utah.

I will be the first to admit that I am an ignorant American. Hells sake, I don’t even know how to physically dial a non-US phone number. At least I am not ashamed to ask and our campground host, Rebecca, was a pleasant young woman who was more than eager to educate me. Better to ask than pretend you know something you don’t.

Our visit to the lovely little town of Blarney, was like stepping back in time. The town is based around a castle built in the 1400’s. It remained in the family for centuries. In the 1800’s the Blarney Home was built. The castle is the home of the “blarney stone” given by the witch of the lake to one of the sons who rescued her from the lake. He was afflicted with a stutter and following the witches directions implicitly, he found the stone and kissed it as instructed. His life then changed as he became a fluent speaker and was given “the gift of gab” as it is said to do. Even until this day, the lines to ascend the castle stairs to the top floor where the Blarney Stone is at rest, just to give it a kiss, is at least an hour long.

The gardens surrounding the Blarney Mansion and castle, were in full display. The variety of flora and fauna planted was in full bloom. The magnificent colors were amazing. I didn’t know so many colors existed in nature. Anything from brilliant reds to flesh peach and salmon orange. Purple flowers, buttercup, and wild garlic filled the air with fragrance.

The most harrowing part of the day was the 2.5km walk back to the Caravan Park (campground). The road started out with a sidewalk, but quickly became a narrow road full of blind turns and no way to get off the road if two cars should pass by at once. The sides of the road was 3-4’ high thick growth which included its fair share of stinging nettle, which is normally found in riverbanks at home. By the time I realized what it was, Chris and I had both inadvertently come in contact with its viscous little hairs.

We finally made it back in one piece and toasted our 7 miles of walking in one day. The day ended with showers, laundry and a recap of our day.

Day Two Ireland: Blarney

It’s been a good day except for the 2 hours of driving. The countryside is gorgeous. The famous rock walls are now covered in a thick coat of green.

The roads are narrow and the means to an end if you want to see the small towns and castle/church ruins dotting the landscape.

Our choice of a van, the same size as our old van, was a good one at the time. Our driving skills are good but to combine the small rural roads, driving on the side of the road unfamiliar to us, a right hand drive and a stick shift, and we are like fish out of water.

Ireland!

We made it! It seemed like a long haul. It’s not been a very good one for me so far. I managed to get the stomach bug going around and allowed myself to get dehydrated bad! I guess with the jet lag and brain fog, I didn’t put two and two together. Fever, the runs and three red eye flights don’t work well together.

The van we picked up has been used hard! Coming out of The Turtle, this will take a bit of getting used to. First off, she’s a right hand drive and a stick shift. We drive on the other side of the road than we are used to so everything just seems a bit backwards.

Last night was our first full night sleep in the van. We went to bed, exhausted and exasperated, at 9:30 and didn’t stir until noon. Check out was at noon but no one came around to kick us out. It took a bit to get our bearings and I was trying desperately to convince myself I was well.

The first thing that became apparent was the WiFi we rented doesn’t work. Now we don’t know about the stove or hot water. The WiFi was to be our guidance for point A to point B. There are round-a-bouts everywhere and it’s hard to know ahead of time where to exit out, plus you have to remember to go in to the left, not right as we are used to. We almost pulled out in front of a delivery truck because we naturally look left. Here we turn right, stay left and look both ways.

We ended the day in a pub called Matt the Miller, a quaint little pub on the corner of the block on the waterfront. They have 3 pages dedicated to whiskeys alone. The burger I ordered was delicious and Chris ordered a pizza. A pint of Kilkenny for me and a Guinness for Chris. Live Irish music and the pubs decor just made for a pleasant end to an otherwise stressful day. Leaving the pub, the Kilkenny Castle was lit up and reflecting on the river. Beautiful. Cheers!