Excerpt from Joe's Ireland Journal-
"What do I know about Ireland? The Celts descended from the Basque; King Beare, the last true King of Ireland sending for the Spanish Armada to keep out England; Bloomsday in Dublin to celebrate the hero of Ulysses; Jim Larkin and the Labour Movement; the formation of the Republic and Micheal Collins; the old bars and old bridges, the cobblestone full of rich and old and dirty and drunken history. Dublin is a city of stories and hugs and Guiness. A good place to be a character, doesn't matter good or bad."
"It was once we got out of Dublin that we started to see the Beauty of Ireland. A quick ride to Cork and a sweet little hostel. Blarney castle cost an arm and a leg but we'd never been in a castle before and it surely couldn't hurt to kiss the Blarney stone.
"we reach Killarney for a day of pure relaxation on the banks of the Kilarney Lake which was calm and peaceful. The swans were probably written about by the poets way back in the 1500's when the O'Donahughes ruled the land before England came around and bullied them out and took the castle. "
"...Oh look! the harbour, the ocean. By God we've done it! We ride out the Dingle Peninsula to a little town called Inch. The beach is magnificent and we sit and read Joyce and Seth builds a sandcastle. I dream of the ancient sand dwellers living the simple life eating clams and living in the dunes, dating back to the Iron Age."
"Days in Tralee are peaceful and easy. To the store, to the shops, through the rose garden, a museum wax world of medevil times..."
"Mike Gara's farm. Go to Calooney, then head to Calaney.
"An afternoon of lounging on the beach, a quick stop off to the pub for some world cup and some Guiness, a BBQ, a bonfire of grassfed Irish beef. A late night walk through the thistles to see the Northern Lights."
"My uncle Charlie lifts the bikes effortlessly into his truck with his farmer strength. We pile in and laugh along to jokes we barely understand through his thick accent."
"All the warmth of family has left me feeling like a part of something. A part of a clan that has survived many generations. After traveling the world over I have come back, for the first time, to my ancestral grounds. The family farm I never knew. "
