Ireland & Italy
(and Northern Ireland and Monaco and France)
Thursday, May 1, 2008
European Vacation 2008
April 11 - April 28, 2008
Ireland & Italy
(and Northern Ireland and Monaco and France)
Ireland & Italy
(and Northern Ireland and Monaco and France)
Failte (Saturday, April 12)
After 10 hours on a plane and 5 hours on a bus, we arrived in Galway. We spent most of the afternoon strolling the winding streets of this charming city. We crossed the River Corrib onto Nuns Island and into Claddagh, the village that was the original home of its namesake ring. 
We also had a slight detour to the optician who retrieved an errant piece of contact lens that was floating in Claire's eye (the procedure was quick and painless and -- due to either Irish kindness or socialized medicine -- free of charge).
Upon arriving at our hotel, Bill was complemented on his Red Sox cap by the front desk attendant, a Natick native. After a tasty dinner of cod and chips at McDonough's Seafood House and an obligatory pint of Guinness at a local pub (water for Claire), we collapsed for the night.
A Rocky Outpost in the Atlantic (April 13)
We awoke to a sunny Irish day and promptly hopped on the ferry to Inis Mor. Upon disembarking, we rented bikes, dropped our bags, and spent our day bicycling around this stunning island.
We took the main road – full of other tourists and French schoolchildren – to Dun Aengis, where we enjoyed a lovely picnic. We decided to head back to Kilronin on the lesser-trod path, meandering our way through the small, rocky fields bisected by endless stone walls (and featuring more hills than one of us could handle – although Claire was biking for two).
The island is only a mile or two wide and the ocean was never far but, despite our best efforts, we could never quite glimpse Boston off of the horizon. Inis Mor is truly an amazing place, in some ways untouched by the modern world. Gaelic (or Irish) is the native tongue, and farm animals are prevalent (we saw a rooster crowing in a restaurant and two cows taking a job with their owner). Our hotel was lovely and we finished our day with some stellar seafood chowder and steamed Galway Bay mussels in the pub. After Claire retired, Bill had a few pints of Smithwicks while watching an impromptu jam session by locals ranging in age from 25 to 75. Altogether, a wonderful day, which will no doubt be one of the highlights of our trip.
We took the main road – full of other tourists and French schoolchildren – to Dun Aengis, where we enjoyed a lovely picnic. We decided to head back to Kilronin on the lesser-trod path, meandering our way through the small, rocky fields bisected by endless stone walls (and featuring more hills than one of us could handle – although Claire was biking for two).
The island is only a mile or two wide and the ocean was never far but, despite our best efforts, we could never quite glimpse Boston off of the horizon. Inis Mor is truly an amazing place, in some ways untouched by the modern world. Gaelic (or Irish) is the native tongue, and farm animals are prevalent (we saw a rooster crowing in a restaurant and two cows taking a job with their owner). Our hotel was lovely and we finished our day with some stellar seafood chowder and steamed Galway Bay mussels in the pub. After Claire retired, Bill had a few pints of Smithwicks while watching an impromptu jam session by locals ranging in age from 25 to 75. Altogether, a wonderful day, which will no doubt be one of the highlights of our trip.
Irish Roots (April 14)
Another sunny day in supposedly-gray Ireland. We awoke to the sun rising above the mainland and the bay and soon strolled our way back to the ferry. As we pulled away from Inis Mor, a school of dolphins jumped and played alongside the boat – it was truly a fantastic sight. Back in Galway, we got in tough with Mamie McDonough, Bill’s grandmother’s cousin. We took a bus up to Headford – 45 minutes north of Galway – to visit with her. It should be noted that the bus station clerk, without asking, assumed that this 30-year old husband and pregnant wife were students, and sold us tickets accordingly. Over the afternoon, Mamie forced us to have two meals plus some biscuits. She also insisted that Bill have some fine Paddy’s Irish whiskey and then filled his glass when she deemed that he had poured too little. After visiting the church where Bill’s great-grandmother was baptized and confirmed, we headed back to Galway and spent a nice relaxing evening.
Dublin (April 15)
We woke today and took the train to Dublin. Upon arriving and checking-in, we strolled a few blocks over to Grafton Street and walked down to Trinity College. After touring the beautiful campus and watching a game of cricket (without understanding what the hell was going on), we went to see the Book of Kells. That such detail and vibrant color could last some 12 centuries is truly stunning. We visited the National Gallery, which was underwhelming (the hordes of noisy 1980s-clad French teenagers didn’t help). St. Stephen’s Green, on the other hand, is perfection – the best of New York’s Central Park and Boston’s Public Garden in one. On a sunny day such as this, with the flowers in full bloom, there could be no better place to wile away part of an afternoon.
In a fit of selflessness, Claire chose Ely’s Wine Bar for dinner, and the food was fantastic. We finished off the evening at O’Donoghue’s Pub listening to traditional Irish music. Claire discussed George W. Bush with Albert, a local drunk who said that he had an “AK-45” in his bag and was ready for Bush’s order to go use it on bin Laden. Bill somehow gave some Australian ladies the impression that he had picked-up Claire in the bar, and he got an “aren’t you lucky” as we left for home together.
In a fit of selflessness, Claire chose Ely’s Wine Bar for dinner, and the food was fantastic. We finished off the evening at O’Donoghue’s Pub listening to traditional Irish music. Claire discussed George W. Bush with Albert, a local drunk who said that he had an “AK-45” in his bag and was ready for Bush’s order to go use it on bin Laden. Bill somehow gave some Australian ladies the impression that he had picked-up Claire in the bar, and he got an “aren’t you lucky” as we left for home together.
Brewery Tours and Murder Trials (April 16)
A full day in Dublin. We started with a quick trip to the Chester Beatty Museum (a bit odd – their exhibition of world religions included just about ever “ism” other than Judaism). We then wandered our way to the Guinness brewery, where we learned all about that magic brew. Following the tour, Bill enjoyed a pint of the black stuff from the all-glass bar perched atop the city, which offers tremendous views in every direction.
After a nice soup lunch and a stroll around the Northside, we visited the Four Courts, the seat of Ireland’s legal system, including its Supreme Court. On a whim, we sat in on a criminal trial – which turned out to be a grisly high-profile murder case in which a husband is accused of killing his wife (http://www.rte.ie/news/2008/0417/walshm.html ). We weren’t too impressed by the oratorical skills of the barristers, but we were jealous of their wigs and robes. We relaxed the rest of the afternoon and spent a quiet evening in our hotel.
After a nice soup lunch and a stroll around the Northside, we visited the Four Courts, the seat of Ireland’s legal system, including its Supreme Court. On a whim, we sat in on a criminal trial – which turned out to be a grisly high-profile murder case in which a husband is accused of killing his wife (http://www.rte.ie/news/2008/0417/walshm.html ). We weren’t too impressed by the oratorical skills of the barristers, but we were jealous of their wigs and robes. We relaxed the rest of the afternoon and spent a quiet evening in our hotel.
The Troubles (April 17)
We awoke today and took the train to Belfast. We had arranged a Black Taxi tour of the city, and our driver met us at the station and escorted us to West Belfast, the epicenter of “the Troubles” that plagued Northern Ireland for nearly 30 years. We first visited the Protestant side of the neighborhood, where propaganda-like murals dotted the landscape. These proddies seem to really love the Queen and take great pride in their slain paramilitary commandos.
After touring – and signing – the “Peace Wall” that divides the Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods, we drive through one of the 60 gates that close each night (still) to separate the two communities. On the Catholic side of the wall, we visited the memorial garden for the Shankill martyrs, one of many such gardens throughout the Catholic neighborhood. We also visited a Catholic church and saw the offices of Sinn Fein.
Our taxi dropped us off in Central City, but it was a cold and windy day, so our walk through downtown was hurried. Notably – and quite distinct from West Belfast – downtown bears almost no signs of the recent sectarian conflict. After team at the Linen Hall library, we had a late lunch at the Crown Liquor Saloon, a beautiful old gas-lit pub. We headed back to Dublin, had a casual dinner, and called it a day.
After touring – and signing – the “Peace Wall” that divides the Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods, we drive through one of the 60 gates that close each night (still) to separate the two communities. On the Catholic side of the wall, we visited the memorial garden for the Shankill martyrs, one of many such gardens throughout the Catholic neighborhood. We also visited a Catholic church and saw the offices of Sinn Fein.
Our taxi dropped us off in Central City, but it was a cold and windy day, so our walk through downtown was hurried. Notably – and quite distinct from West Belfast – downtown bears almost no signs of the recent sectarian conflict. After team at the Linen Hall library, we had a late lunch at the Crown Liquor Saloon, a beautiful old gas-lit pub. We headed back to Dublin, had a casual dinner, and called it a day.
Last Day in Ireland (April 18)
Our last day in Ireland was very low-key. We had breakfast on a bench in St. Stephen’s Green and took a nice walk around Iveagh Gardens, a walled oasis in the middle of the city.
We meanerd by the Georgian townhouses, with their famed multicolored doors, and then decided to take in a movie to escape the cold and windy day. When the movie ended, Bill turned to Claire and said “let’s go to Italy.” And so we did.
We meanerd by the Georgian townhouses, with their famed multicolored doors, and then decided to take in a movie to escape the cold and windy day. When the movie ended, Bill turned to Claire and said “let’s go to Italy.” And so we did.
Buongiorno! (April 19)
We awoke in Pisa, with a view of the Leaning Tower from our hotel window and only three hours to explore the city. We were thrilled to have traded the Irish chill of the past few days for a warm and sunny Mediterranean morning. We wandered through town, explored the markets, bought a maternity dress for Claire, and overall found Pisa to be much more charming than we had heard. Less charming, however, were the throngs of tourists surrounding the Leaning Tower. Despite the crowds, the tower is a sight to behold – seeing it in person, it is hard to fathom how it continues to stand.
The thousand year-old Duomo, adjacent to the tower, is stunning – its gray-and-white marble brightened by the colorful stained glass and panoply of sculpture. We wound our way through town and across the River Arno to the train station, and we were off to Riomaggiore. Upon arriving in our home for the next week, we were met by the sight of turquoise waves crashing against the cliffs. We were also met by Gianfranco, the son of our landlady, who escorted us up the town elevator (toll + 1 Euro) and to our apartment. The town of Riomaggiore is breathtaking. It consists of a small number of colorful houses wedged into a hillside overlooking the sea. Stairways and sidewalks wind their way around the buildings, most leading to the main thoroughfare – really, a long plaza – lined with shops and restaurants and closed to traffic. Above it all are lush green hills, terraced such that nearly every yard can be cultivated. Lemon trees abound and, up-and-down the hill, grape vines provide the fruit for the region’s signature white wines.
Having booked our apartment on the internet and corresponded with owners lacking fluency in English, we were a bit apprehensive concerning the state of our lodging. We needn’t be. The apartment, like everything else in town, is a series of stairs. From the main street, we wind our way up a maze of stairs – some indoor, some outdoor – to the apartment door. Inside, there is a bedroom on one level, then a door to the back garden (with our own lemon tree) one level up, then the living room and kitchen on the n ext level. Stairs in the kitchen lead to the large terrace with sweeping views of the Mediterranean, the terraced hills, and the town below. There is also a roof deck further up and a balcony off of the kitchen that connects to a bizarre second bathroom marked “privato.” Sitting at the kitchen table, we see houses of pink and yellow similarly perched above town, and the gleaming sea just beyond. To get to town, we can either go down the five flights of stairs in front, or we can go through the garden, up two flights of stairs, and then down a path by the church. After settling into our apartment, we had lunch at a local bistro, explored town, and stocked up on provisions for the coming week.
The thousand year-old Duomo, adjacent to the tower, is stunning – its gray-and-white marble brightened by the colorful stained glass and panoply of sculpture. We wound our way through town and across the River Arno to the train station, and we were off to Riomaggiore. Upon arriving in our home for the next week, we were met by the sight of turquoise waves crashing against the cliffs. We were also met by Gianfranco, the son of our landlady, who escorted us up the town elevator (toll + 1 Euro) and to our apartment. The town of Riomaggiore is breathtaking. It consists of a small number of colorful houses wedged into a hillside overlooking the sea. Stairways and sidewalks wind their way around the buildings, most leading to the main thoroughfare – really, a long plaza – lined with shops and restaurants and closed to traffic. Above it all are lush green hills, terraced such that nearly every yard can be cultivated. Lemon trees abound and, up-and-down the hill, grape vines provide the fruit for the region’s signature white wines.
Having booked our apartment on the internet and corresponded with owners lacking fluency in English, we were a bit apprehensive concerning the state of our lodging. We needn’t be. The apartment, like everything else in town, is a series of stairs. From the main street, we wind our way up a maze of stairs – some indoor, some outdoor – to the apartment door. Inside, there is a bedroom on one level, then a door to the back garden (with our own lemon tree) one level up, then the living room and kitchen on the n ext level. Stairs in the kitchen lead to the large terrace with sweeping views of the Mediterranean, the terraced hills, and the town below. There is also a roof deck further up and a balcony off of the kitchen that connects to a bizarre second bathroom marked “privato.” Sitting at the kitchen table, we see houses of pink and yellow similarly perched above town, and the gleaming sea just beyond. To get to town, we can either go down the five flights of stairs in front, or we can go through the garden, up two flights of stairs, and then down a path by the church. After settling into our apartment, we had lunch at a local bistro, explored town, and stocked up on provisions for the coming week.
Via Dell'Amore (April 20)
After a leisurely breakfast in the apartment, the church bells sounded their ten-minute warning, and we hurried to mass at San Giovanni Batista. While we couldn’t understand the exact words being spoken, the flow of the mass was as familiar as at home. We enjoyed a marvelous lunch on our sun-drenched terrace, feasting upon pasta with the local Ligurian-style pesto, accompanied by some delicious foccacia from the bakery below our apartment.
At the bakery, the staff had debated our nationality and expressed surprise to learn that we were American (the town was full of vacationing Aussies). The staff also polled us on our preference for Clinton or Obama and, like the many others who asked during our trip, agreed with our support for the latter (“Tutto e Obama,” one said). In the afternoon, we walked to the next town, Manarola, along the Via dell'Amore (the lovers’ path) that is built into the cliffside by the sea.
We wandered around Manarola and then took a bus to Groppo, a small town up in the hills with its own olive mill. The mill was closed – although the strong odor of olives remained in the air – and so we decided to take the next bus back. While we waited for the bus, Bill realized we had left some belongings at the mill and ran down to retrieve them. Upon returning to the road. Bill was distraught to see the bus barreling down the hill, but was relieved when it stopped for him after Claire had convinced the driver to make an extra stop. We walked back to Riomaggiore and had dinner at La Lanterna, a lovely restaurant by the town dock specializing in local seafood and traditional Ligurian cuisine.
At the bakery, the staff had debated our nationality and expressed surprise to learn that we were American (the town was full of vacationing Aussies). The staff also polled us on our preference for Clinton or Obama and, like the many others who asked during our trip, agreed with our support for the latter (“Tutto e Obama,” one said). In the afternoon, we walked to the next town, Manarola, along the Via dell'Amore (the lovers’ path) that is built into the cliffside by the sea.
We wandered around Manarola and then took a bus to Groppo, a small town up in the hills with its own olive mill. The mill was closed – although the strong odor of olives remained in the air – and so we decided to take the next bus back. While we waited for the bus, Bill realized we had left some belongings at the mill and ran down to retrieve them. Upon returning to the road. Bill was distraught to see the bus barreling down the hill, but was relieved when it stopped for him after Claire had convinced the driver to make an extra stop. We walked back to Riomaggiore and had dinner at La Lanterna, a lovely restaurant by the town dock specializing in local seafood and traditional Ligurian cuisine.
Vernazza and Corniglia (April 21)
Rain – we had escaped it almost entirely in Ireland but our luck had run out, and our plans to visit Lucca were postponed. But after a relaxing morning the skies cleared, and we decided to explore two more of the towns that make up the Cinque Terre. Vernazza, the fourth town, has a beautiful harbor nestled within looming lush-green hills and is full of hidden, winding stairways. We explored the town, up and down, and eventually came upon the Castle Doria, the remains of ancient fortifications above the town.
We enjoyed sweeping views of the sea, the hills, and the neighboring towns, and then hopped the train one stop to Corniglia. We had been curious as to why Corniglia is the only town among the five that lacks a harbor, but we promptly found out when we climbed all 382 steps to reach town.
During the strenuous ascent (Claire: “I don’t think the baby is getting enough oxygen”), a descending American hiker tried to dissuade us from continuing, opining that “there’s not much of a town.” Fortunately, we ignored this advice and soon found a small but endearing hamlet featuring the best views we’d seen all trip (and the best gelato).
We enjoyed sweeping views of the sea, the hills, and the neighboring towns, and then hopped the train one stop to Corniglia. We had been curious as to why Corniglia is the only town among the five that lacks a harbor, but we promptly found out when we climbed all 382 steps to reach town.
During the strenuous ascent (Claire: “I don’t think the baby is getting enough oxygen”), a descending American hiker tried to dissuade us from continuing, opining that “there’s not much of a town.” Fortunately, we ignored this advice and soon found a small but endearing hamlet featuring the best views we’d seen all trip (and the best gelato).
Back in Riomaggiore, Claire cooked up a fantastic feast of bruschetta, homemade sauce, and the local pasta (trofie).
Lucca (April 22)
Today we visited Lucca – a delightful walled city in Tuscany. We enjoyed a long lunch and then wandered through the winding streets. After lunch, many of the shops were closed for siesta, but we managed to find a perfect pasticceria for some delicious treats. Lucca features countless piazzas that reminded us of our previous Italian travels (unfortunately, Luccans use these piazzas as parking lots, which severely detracts from the atmosphere). Overall, a lovely town and a great place to spend the afternoon.
Portofino (April 23)
Stunning beauty and opulence. We took the train west into the Italian Riviera into Santa Margherita Ligure, a lively seaside resort town. Once there, we headed south on foot, walking the 5km to Portofino. It was a perfect sunny day and our walk was delightful, bringing us past breathtaking villas overlooking the sparkling sea. This area has a reputation as a playground for the rich and famous, and we could immediately see why. The last third of our walk ventured off of the coastal road and up into the woods, but still with stunning views of the turquoise sea through the trees.
Upon entering Portofino, we treated ourselves to a luxurious lunch on an outdoor patio overlooking the picturesque harbor. After lunch and dessert, we milled about town and observed the enormous beachside pyre being assembled for a St. George’s festival bonfire that night. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay – perhaps we’ll return some year via yacht and watch the fire from our own villa (mental note: start playing lotto). We took a boat back to Santa Margherita, which provided a different set of views of the incredible coastline. Before hopping on a return train, we stumbled upon a perfect little candy shop, where we bought some tasty treats for the coming days.
Hiking the Cinque Terre (April 24)
Today we tackled the 11km trek along all five towns of the Cinque Terre. The trail starts out deceivingly easy with the flat-paved lovers’ walk to Manarola and the relatively simple path to Corniglia. From there, things get very hilly very fast. The path to Vernazza is long, steep, and features a frustrating series of inclines followed by declines followed by inclines again. The views throughout, however, are spectacular – the area is a national park and we would go long stretches without seeing any buildings, only trees and the sea (the only sign of development being hoses of water used to irrigate the occasional terraced vineyard).
In Vernazza, we stopped for a simple lunch of breach, cheese, eggs, and fruit that we had carried with us – plus cones of gelato that we couldn’t resist buying. The last portion of the hike from Vernazza to Monterosso starts with hundreds of stairs leading up into the hills. After this incline, and some additional challenging terrain, we made our slow and long-awaited descent into town. Once there, we dangled our tired feet over a ledge by the beach and treated ourselves to some cooling drinks at a bar perched over the harbor (Fanta for Claire). Exhausted but proud of our feat, we took the boat back to Riomaggiore. Bill took in the views from bow, while Claire napped on a bench in the cabin. We cooked a nice dinner of fresh ravioli (for which we had searched for days) and called it an early night.
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