At the Fort at Duncannon.
Stumbled onto a filming site for the Count of Monte Christo. Did you know part of it was filmed in Duncannon, Ireland? Now I have to watch it and look out for places I have been.
A friend I made, who lived on a cliff above the sea.
Playing a rowdy game of Jenga, and scaring the two German guys, sharing our hostel, into silence. Three details you may not notice but tells a lot about our stay in the cottage: the (empty) nutella jar, the half-eaten milka bar, and the blazing fire in the woodstove. My evident impatience is also noticable, and probably as much a trademark of our trip. I don't know how the girls put up with me so charitably all the time.
Reading by the fire. Doesn't get much better. I read about as much as i was able to read all sumer: Chesterton's Orthodoxy, and Man's Search for Mmeaning, we read most of Northanger Abbey aloud, and might have finished except that it is still traveling on a train along with Liz's shoes. We spent a good bit of time in libraries and bookstores (where I encountered The Man in the Purple Suit - a story I shall tell on request). And I even had time to re-memorize Mythopoeia, which had slipped beyond recollection. It was so good.
The view out the bedroom window.
the driveway up to the hostel.
Sun setting on Ireland.
One of the parish churches of New Ross.
Andrew, check this out. I was on a ship! The Dunbrody Famine Ship. Okay, a lifesize replica. She carried many of the ancestors of Irish Americans across to New York during the potatoe famine. It was pretty harsh conditions below deck for the passengers. But the ship was a beauty.
Caitlin, about to take command. Caitlin sails a similar vessel with her dad and a whole crew in her spare time back home in New England.
Ruins of a Gothic Church in New Ross.
Caitlin stopping for a look at the creek as we walked to town one fine morning.
A view from our hostel.
Our lovely little cottage hostel, about a 3 km walk from town, owned by a pampering little old couple, Brian and Jenny. No hot water, but a fireplace made up for it by a hundred fold.
The hostel alarm cock.
A collection of the books that kept us company in front of the roaring fireplace. 
Made Irish Potatoe stew!
Our Castle Hostel
Caitlin about to pulverize me, and likewise me Caitlin. We weren't sure who was going to come out on top after the ten days together. We were sure we were going to kill each other by the end of ten days in such tight quarters, but we all came home probably even better friends than before!
A self-portrait of the man who owned the Castle hostel in Jenkinstown. I really liked the guy. He was a painter, a musician, and a sailor. And for goodness sake he owned a castle. He also had really good taste in music - I kept hearing bits of my favorite music of all time coming down from his tower that he lived in.
Pasta in the feast-hall, where previously had dined nobles on legs of mutton. Cheers.
Making Pasta in the Castle Kitchen.
A very old Gothic facade of a Church in Kilkenny.
Heartstrings.
I wanted to get this pipe for John, but it was sold.
Castle tops through the apple trees.
Rothe House in Kilkenny. I loved the Virginia creeper all over the tudor house.
I think there are like 28 windows on this magnificent tudor home! I am glad I don't have to wash them, but it sure is pretty.
A really cool chair.
Eating lunch under some fir trees. This is where we first encountered Motor-Mouth O'Malley, where he interupted our lunch for some 40 minutes of incessant talk about why Irishmen really are all drunkards like they say, and about the girls he met in bars, and how on earth could we like Gaming if it has only one bar and no gym? Quite a sweet-talker, to be sure! My favorite was when, in a tone of frusration, he asked us whether we were intending to be nuns, after thrice asking us out in a sly sort of way.
Castles are quite commonplace part of the scenery, we found. Any field might have the maginificent remains of a castle!
A rainbow! It was much more brilliant in real life.
Another castle, seen from the train.
Andrea and I, aka Emily and Jane. We decided we needed undercover names after our repeated stalking-like run-ins with a certain ' Motor-Mouth O' Malley'
Caitlin and Liz, aka Susan and Mary.
The sea at Roslare
My feet meet the Atlantic for the first time...and from the other side of the puddle, too!
I was so excited to see one of these train turn-tables. Like right out of Thomas the Tank Engine and Shining Time Station!
The room we had on the Ferry. It was quite an interesting experience. It was like this big theater room with no theatre, and extra space along the walls where people layed down and slept. We discovered blankets on the return journey - on the way out we froze.
The Oscar Wilde ferried us across the atlantic ocean from Cherbourg, in Northern France to the Southern tip of Ireland, Roslare Harbour. It was much closer to the Titanic, to me, than to my idea of a ferry. And it was cheaper than flying.
Sunrise from the tenth deck of a ferry, with nothing but the sea as far as I could see. I was in heaven!
Me, Liz and Caitlin watching the sailboats in the Cherbourg harbor
St. Trinite. We went to Mass twice there. It was built in 1480, if memory serves, after the inhabitants credited
I love it! I have completely lost myself to Gothic Architecture. I before found it hard and crude and course and cold. Now, I love it. The very stones cry out! I have a special weakness for Flying Butresses.
' She looks like Christine Tizides' I exclaimed when I saw this marble girl. Okay, so maybe not an exact likeness, but you see the resemblance?
A really cool Annunciation. I like it.
This one was especially intriguing. I think it may be from the Niebelengenlied. It was so so cool, the picture can in no way do it justice. It was huge and just drew you in. And it is not every day you see paintings of vikings.
I loved this piece, the lovely Margeurite from Faust. She was exquisite.
Liz and Andrea contemplating a mysterious painting.
Napoleon. Of course. He had a big nose. About the size of my head.
Again, Liz and Andrea contemplating beauty. The scultped beauty in the foreground was a sarcophagus for the artist's daughter, and so full of emotion, I was quite spellbound
St. Clemente, I think, in Cherbourg, France
We got this meringue at a little Festival de la Pain shoppe. We really had no idea what to do with it once we had it. But it was 90 euro cents, and all part of the French experience.
Reading by the fire. Doesn't get much better. I read about as much as i was able to read all sumer: Chesterton's Orthodoxy, and Man's Search for Mmeaning, we read most of Northanger Abbey aloud, and might have finished except that it is still traveling on a train along with Liz's shoes. We spent a good bit of time in libraries and bookstores (where I encountered The Man in the Purple Suit - a story I shall tell on request). And I even had time to re-memorize Mythopoeia, which had slipped beyond recollection. It was so good.
The view out the bedroom window.
the driveway up to the hostel.
Sun setting on Ireland.
One of the parish churches of New Ross.
Andrew, check this out. I was on a ship! The Dunbrody Famine Ship. Okay, a lifesize replica. She carried many of the ancestors of Irish Americans across to New York during the potatoe famine. It was pretty harsh conditions below deck for the passengers. But the ship was a beauty.
Caitlin, about to take command. Caitlin sails a similar vessel with her dad and a whole crew in her spare time back home in New England.
Ruins of a Gothic Church in New Ross.
Caitlin stopping for a look at the creek as we walked to town one fine morning.
A view from our hostel.
Our lovely little cottage hostel, about a 3 km walk from town, owned by a pampering little old couple, Brian and Jenny. No hot water, but a fireplace made up for it by a hundred fold.
The hostel alarm cock.
A collection of the books that kept us company in front of the roaring fireplace. 
Made Irish Potatoe stew!
Our Castle Hostel
Caitlin about to pulverize me, and likewise me Caitlin. We weren't sure who was going to come out on top after the ten days together. We were sure we were going to kill each other by the end of ten days in such tight quarters, but we all came home probably even better friends than before!
A self-portrait of the man who owned the Castle hostel in Jenkinstown. I really liked the guy. He was a painter, a musician, and a sailor. And for goodness sake he owned a castle. He also had really good taste in music - I kept hearing bits of my favorite music of all time coming down from his tower that he lived in.
Pasta in the feast-hall, where previously had dined nobles on legs of mutton. Cheers.
Making Pasta in the Castle Kitchen.
A very old Gothic facade of a Church in Kilkenny.
Heartstrings.
I wanted to get this pipe for John, but it was sold.
Castle tops through the apple trees.
Rothe House in Kilkenny. I loved the Virginia creeper all over the tudor house.
I think there are like 28 windows on this magnificent tudor home! I am glad I don't have to wash them, but it sure is pretty.
A really cool chair.
Eating lunch under some fir trees. This is where we first encountered Motor-Mouth O'Malley, where he interupted our lunch for some 40 minutes of incessant talk about why Irishmen really are all drunkards like they say, and about the girls he met in bars, and how on earth could we like Gaming if it has only one bar and no gym? Quite a sweet-talker, to be sure! My favorite was when, in a tone of frusration, he asked us whether we were intending to be nuns, after thrice asking us out in a sly sort of way.
Castles are quite commonplace part of the scenery, we found. Any field might have the maginificent remains of a castle!
A rainbow! It was much more brilliant in real life.
Another castle, seen from the train.
Andrea and I, aka Emily and Jane. We decided we needed undercover names after our repeated stalking-like run-ins with a certain ' Motor-Mouth O' Malley'
Caitlin and Liz, aka Susan and Mary.
The sea at Roslare
My feet meet the Atlantic for the first time...and from the other side of the puddle, too!
I was so excited to see one of these train turn-tables. Like right out of Thomas the Tank Engine and Shining Time Station!
The room we had on the Ferry. It was quite an interesting experience. It was like this big theater room with no theatre, and extra space along the walls where people layed down and slept. We discovered blankets on the return journey - on the way out we froze.
The Oscar Wilde ferried us across the atlantic ocean from Cherbourg, in Northern France to the Southern tip of Ireland, Roslare Harbour. It was much closer to the Titanic, to me, than to my idea of a ferry. And it was cheaper than flying.
Sunrise from the tenth deck of a ferry, with nothing but the sea as far as I could see. I was in heaven!
Me, Liz and Caitlin watching the sailboats in the Cherbourg harbor
St. Trinite. We went to Mass twice there. It was built in 1480, if memory serves, after the inhabitants credited
I love it! I have completely lost myself to Gothic Architecture. I before found it hard and crude and course and cold. Now, I love it. The very stones cry out! I have a special weakness for Flying Butresses.
' She looks like Christine Tizides' I exclaimed when I saw this marble girl. Okay, so maybe not an exact likeness, but you see the resemblance?
A really cool Annunciation. I like it.
This one was especially intriguing. I think it may be from the Niebelengenlied. It was so so cool, the picture can in no way do it justice. It was huge and just drew you in. And it is not every day you see paintings of vikings.
I loved this piece, the lovely Margeurite from Faust. She was exquisite.
Liz and Andrea contemplating a mysterious painting.
Napoleon. Of course. He had a big nose. About the size of my head.
Again, Liz and Andrea contemplating beauty. The scultped beauty in the foreground was a sarcophagus for the artist's daughter, and so full of emotion, I was quite spellbound
St. Clemente, I think, in Cherbourg, France
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