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[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Our last day.  Bittersweet, but again I miss my cat and i can’t wait to get home.  Today we will finish up strong with several monuments.  First off though is a climb to the top of St. Jacques Tower.

The tower  is all that remains of the former 16th-century Church of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie ("Saint James of the butchers"), which was demolished in 1797, during the French Revolution, leaving only the tower.  300 steps, but again if you give us steps we are going to climb it.

Now... I booked the French tour so for the most of the tour we have no idea what is being told to us, but I looked up the history of the tower so we aren’t that concerned. 

Finally we get to the top.  Since Tam is not going to get to climb the Notre Dame Towers I wanted to give her something similar and this is it.  The views are spectacular and from the tower we can see our next stop Centre Pompideau.  We head to the bottom of the tower and head off for some modern art.

Centre Pompideau, but first I want to look up some Banksy Art that is on a street sign nearby.  DAMN!!!  Someone cut it out.  {later I would find out that this was done 2 weeks prior to our visit}.

We visit some Warhols, Kandinsky’s, Otto Dix, Chagall, Picasso, Duchamp, and Pollock to name a few in the Modern wing and then head down to the Contemporary Wing.  I step into what seems like A Clockwork Orange and find plenty of interesting works, my favorite being a live ear bud installation by Maya Dunietz called “Thicket.”  It really speaks to me on so many levels.  Here is a link to see a video of it.  Facinating.

https://www.centrepompidou.fr/cpv/agenda/event.action?param.id=FR_R-ee6db28832ac918dc4d9e4987b242b8¶m.idSource=FR_E-ee6db28832ac918dc4d9e4987b242b8

Next we head down to the ile de la cite, my favorite and least favorite part of Paris.  Favorite in that it is absolutely beautiful, but least favorite in that it is swarming with tourists.  First to see the Sainte Chapelle’s gorgeous stained glass windows, but before then even a well deserved beer and some frites.

We go to a very busy bar.  The one waiter is extremely busy and I fear we miss our chance to order as he ask Tammy if she is ready and she doesn’t answer.  He’s off.  Finally we catch him a second time.  We order a couple beers and some frites and watch Paris pass us by.  Well actually watch some policemen pass us by.  We finish up and head to the church.

Sainte Chapelle is as beautiful as I remember.  The stained glass is just exquisite.  Easily one of the most beautiful building’s in Paris and you could just as easily walk just past it because it is behind many buildings.

We finish and head to the Conciergerie (where Marie Antoinette spent her final days).  They are actually setting up for a Marie Antoinette exhibit so much of the building is under construction.  Still it is interesting to see.

Finally we make our way to, “the best sorbet in the world,” Berthillon, passing by the heavily quarantined, Notre Dame on the way.  We’ll see about this, “best,” claim..  I get a toasted pineapple and blood orange scoop.  Tam gets a cassis scoop and we head out.  I’m here to tell you that it is legit the best sorbet I’ve ever tasted in my life.  We polish them off quite quickly.

We walk along the Seine and onto a bridge where we take in the back of Notre Dame.  Then down by the bouquinistas (book stalls) which line the Seine.  I stop to talk to one owner and he tells me how he watched Notre Dame burn.  I told him that I usually get a rosary, when I notice that he has an old one for sale.   These bouquinistas are known for old books, but I wasn’t expecting the rosary.  It seems perfect so I purchase it and move on.

We head to Shakespeare and company where I think I may buy a Oscar Wilde or Earnest Hemingway book.  Or perhaps some french poetry?  Baudelaire? 

"You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. ... ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish." - Charles Baudelaire

I look all around and settle on a very small book about a rat.  It seems very fitting and I like it a lot.  I grab it and a couple book bags for some friends and we decide to go next door for a couple salads and glasses of wine.

After we are full I determine that we can make it to a quick trip to the Louvre.  I more want Tam to see the building rather than any art work, but I determine that we can do a quick, “greatest hits,” which includes my favorite sculpture, “Psyche revived by Cupid’s Kiss.” 

Throughout this visit we quote Chevy Chase in Vacation, except that our, “Big Ben kids, Parliament,” becomes, “Winged Victory kids.  Venus de Milo.  We must pass by them several times while looking for, “Victory leading the People,” which we find when we give up.  Finally we get in line for Mona Lisa.

FIRST ONES HERE!!!  NOT!  We wait in line for about 45 minutes before seeing her.  After we are done we head out.  We have about 30 minutes to catch a Seine boat ride and I can’t find the bus.  Frustrated I quickly hail a cab as I don’t think a bus would get us there in time anyway.

We hop into what must be the most gentlemanly cab ever as he opens our doors, cuts across traffic and maneuvers through what is the craziest traffic I’ve ever seen... and I drove through Avenue de Clichy.  Will we make it?  Yes!  With 4 minutes to spare.  We hop on the boat for a gorgeous view of the city.  We float by the darkened Notre Dame which is a little sad, but otherwise Paris remains one of the most gorgeous cities in the world.

We finish the boat ride and go to look for another bus.  There are no nearby trains.  We find one and let’s just say this guy’s driving reminds us of the time that Freddy Krueger hijacked that schoolbus full of kids.  We start joking that is what has happened, especially since he takes a city size bus across the same traffic/5 to 6 lane roundabout that the cab did, but at twice the speed and 4 times the size.  Somehow we make it to Pigalle and make the trek up to our BnB.  

It’s late and we pack.  I still have our really nice bottle of champagne that we determine that we will drink tonight after packing.  We finish up, open the windows and listen to the Parisians below while having a delicious 2012 Grand Reserve Brut.  The delicate little bubbles tickle our throat.  We drink the last drop and head to bed.

Paris you have been wonderful.  I think I may be done with you.  I am already dreaming of Scotland.   

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today I was a hero.  On our way to the Eiffel tower we watched as I thought a crow or raven was attacking another bird and then thought it was a bag of trash and then NO DEAR GOD IT IS A PIGEON.  I get angry about little people being picked on and that translates to animals as well.  I get into a standoff with this giant black bird while another passerby makes sure the pigeon gets to safety.  I tease Tam that I should have shouted, “come at me crow.”  She thinks I’m an idiot.  She is probably right, but I have a hero idiot to a pigeon and I’m alright with that.  Now our actual day.

“First Ones Here!”  If you travel with Tammy and I you will hear this throwback to Chevy Chase in Vacation regardless if there is no one in line or 1 million people in line.  Today for the Eiffel Tower we were definitely the first in our line to ascend to the top and so we do, but not before we are moved to different areas of the tower three times.  Finally we get on though and we head up.  All the way to the top.  It is pretty windy so it won’t be a ton of time up there but enough to have a glass of champagne, take a snap of Sacre Coeur from the Eiffel Tower to return the favor.  We then descend down to the second and first levels taking a lap on each before finally exiting the tower.  On our way to the train we notice a door that is labeled, “local Crue.”  Being Crueheads we appreciate.

Next we take off to the Invalides and Napoleon’s Tomb, but not before crossing the prettiest bridge in all of Paris, the Alexandre Bridge.  It really is very beautiful, but we are thirsty so we go and find a bar to sit down and have a beer at.  Fully satiated, we make our way the Invalides.  

Now we are really here just to see Napoleon’s Tomb.  I’m not terribly interested in anything but that.  So we do just that, but also manage to see the chapel on the way out.  Next stop is my favorite place in Paris, Hotel Biron, a.k.a. The Rodin Museum, my favorite artist.  Tam loves the Thinker, I’m partial to The Kiss, Cathedral, The Gates of Hell and the grounds in general.  It really is just the most beautiful place.  This of course makes us thirsty so we go and have another beer.

We finish up early and only have Chez Michou tonight so we decide to go take in one of my favorite cemeteries, Montmartre Cemetery.  We find the graves of Berlioz, Nijitsky, Degas, Dumas and Dalida among other beautiful statuary.  Then there is another cool one, Guy Pitchal that is amazing.  I will post it’s own post because it is a video and the eyes follow you.  Really incredible.  Finished we have a beer and then head back to the BnB to get ready for the drag show tonight. 

Chez Michou!!!  I have really been looking forward to this.  First of all Mr. Michou is 88 years old and opened the Cabaret over 63 years ago.  They have been providing drag to the masses, crammed into this little theatre ever since.  Based by the photos on the wall (Liza, Dalida and Sophia Loren to name a few), everyone has come to see this show

We are seated shoulder to shoulder with everyone in the theatre.  Seems Tam and I are the only two that do not speak French fluently.  That ends up o.k.  I manage to order a vegetarian meal.  Our server makes the joke that their dinner will be better tonight.  I didn’t get it at first and then did.  We order a beaujolais and get ready for a delicious meal.  We finish and get ready for the show.

Once again everything is in French, but I’m clapping along and having the best time.  Then our server comes on.  Seems he is the funny queen.  Seems appropriate.  They take us through Celine Dion, La Boheme, other French Pop stars... all in French.   Again we don’t understand anything until Sheena Easton comes about, “My baby takes the morning train...”  The guy next to me seems thrilled that I finally can sing a lyric.  Honestly though it doesn’t matter.  The show is phenomenal.  We thank our server and head home.  Last day tomorrow and I’m starting to miss Simba.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today was a jam packed day filled with art, good food, cocktails and lots of love so it seems perfect that we start it at the Wall of Love and then with possibly the best croissant of the trip as it is straight from the oven.  So it is still very warm.  We somehow manage to order the wrong breakfast that also comes with bread, so I wrap it up and hand it to a homeless woman and her dog that is across the way from us.  We then head over to Musee D’Orsay.

We are very fortunate as they have a huge Degas exhibit that I’m very excited to see, especially his statue, “Small Dancer Aged 14.”  It is a favorite as she looks peaceful, yet defiant.  I love it so much that I purchase a small version on my way out of the museum.  Not before we finish seeing a bunch of Manet, Seurat, Monet, VanGogh, Lautrec and Renoir.  The Renoir in fact is, “Dance at the Moulin de la Galette.”  The painting is one that was painted not far from where we are staying and where we will eat tonight.  Love where we are as it is so rich with artistic history.

When finished we head to Musee de l’Orangerie, but along the way manage to see another love lock bridge and a replica of Rodin’s, “Kiss,” statue out front.  We make our way in.  There are several artists in this museum, but if you go 9.99 times out of 10 you are going to see Monet’s 8 paintings of his garden in Giverney throughout different times of the day.  They are large and take up 2 entire rooms so the scale is maginificent.  We finish in the museum pretty quickly so I take Tam over to see  Place de la Concorde.

Place de la Concord is one of my favorite parts of Paris.  Aside from the beautiful obelisk and amazing view down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, it manages to have my two favorite fountains in the city.  We tool around for a bit and it starts to sprinkle so we head to our next adventure for the day the Madeleine Church.  Before we head into the church though we do make time for my favorite macaroons from Laduree.  

Fully sweetened we head in.  The church is just magnificent and is in the area of town I stayed in last time I was in Paris.  Where we are now is much better, but it makes me nostalgic and appreciative for myself.  The last time I was here was with a less agreeable travel companion and it was time that I determined that I would have fun despite who I was with.  The church was part of that.  I put my foot down to go in and I did.  A very proud moment.

We are a little bit thirsty so we head to a cafe nearby for some wine.  The first one I order is a misfire.  Way too sweet, so I also have some frites to manage to wash it down.  I also spot the Maille store so we head over quickly because their cornichons are my favorite in the world.  We grab some and a bit of truffle and head to our next destination, the Palais Garnier.

I inquire to get La Traviata tickets but we are there on the wrong day so we just purchase a tour of the theatre and I’m glad we did.  It is one of the most ornate buildings I’ve ever seen and we even get to go in to see the stage with the dome painted by Marc Chagall.  It is extraordinary and I manage to even get to snap a pic with someone on stage for scale.  This theatre seriously is huge.

I must have a thing for domes because next we head to Galleries Lafayette, not for shopping though Tam does buy some perfume, but to look at the gorgeous stained glass dome and then to have a couple beers on the roof and take in the view.  So well worth it.  Also the servers are super hot.  Preppy hipster for Tam, leather biker jacket guy for me.  :)  

We don’t fill up because I have one more place that I want to go before leaving here and that is Angelina for hot chocolate and a pastry.  A strawberry one for me and Tam gets their cake.  Now if you manage to go here you need like a few sips of this hot chocolate.  It is literally the thickest hot chocolate of life.  Delicious, but a bit too much.  We finish up and head to our last sight of the day, the Arc de Triomphe.

Yes we climb it.  Don’t give us something with stairs if you don’t expect us to climb it.  We take all 284 and are rewarded with gorgeous views, but we were also rewarded simply by going there as there is a military service of some sort going on.  So very beautiful and proud.  We finish up and find the train back to the BnB up on the hill.

Hungry for actual food, we head to the Place du Tertre.  Salad for me, escargot for Tam, cheese plate and wine for both.  We enjoy our dinner while watching a much older but gorgeous French gentleman cruise a young American man.  These two are perfect, but then there is a rude group that is sat at the table next to us so we pay up and head to a different restaurant in the square for cocktails.  I’m so happy we did as what happens next would not have happened.

We sit down and have a glass of wine.  Before too long a lovely older woman name Jacqueline sits down next to me.  The irony of this is that on this trip I’ve thought consistently to my assistant Jacqueline who passed away a year ago.  She was an older woman, loved Paris and was French.  

I see that Jacqueline orders an Irish Coffee so I inquire to where she is from.  She tells us that she lives in the states, but her kids live in Paris still.  She is Vietnamese, French and Irish.  She looks like my Aunt Judy and is just delightful.  We end up singing gospels and discussing her life.  She has outlived 2 or 3 husbands and loves to travel.  She also is waiting for some friends and her son-in-law Luc to show up.  They eventually do and join us.

Several cocktails and glasses of wine later (2 1/2 to 3 hours later) we all decide to call it a night, but not before we exchange information.  This is what I love about travel.  I always find similar energy.  Today we did in the artist’s square.

We head down the cobblestone streets, past Le Consulat and Moulin de la Galette and to our BnB.  We no more than lay our head on the pillow and we are asleep.  Ready for another day tomorrow.  

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Every wonder why Monet painted like he did?  It is because his home in Giverny is so damn beautiful everywhere you turn that it is impossible to focus!!!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  First to rent another deathtrap that will no doubt put us back on the Avenue de Clichy later tonight and send me spiraling into severe and total anxiety and death thoughts.  Until then, meet Georges, a sexy little red Renault named after my recent love.  The red as fiery as the love in our hearts.

I care for Georges more than Henri.  He is more compact and easier to maneuver.  He also fits right into the 5 or 6 ferrari’s that we park him next to at Monet’s home in Giverny.

Now again if you see the true beauty of this place you understand the impossibility of Monet to focus on any one part because it is utterly gorgeous.  Also please know that Monet was not afraid of color.  Be it his pink and green house, yellow dining room or blue kitchen... the man loved some color. 

The house itself is situated on a wild growing garden.  There is form to it, but wild form, much like his paintings.  A big mess close up, but from afar works together to create absolutely beauty and clarity.  I could spend hours just looking at the reflections in the pond.  I also feel that after being here I will appreciate Monet in a way that I never did before.

While we would love to stay here for a while, we have quite a bit of driving to do through the French countryside toward Normandy.  It is a long drive and then out of nowhere you see the majesty that is Mont Saint Michel.

Mont Saint Michel is an island and mainland commune in Normandy France.  It draws it’s name from the seat of the monastery that sits atop it.  It has held strategic fortifications since ancient times mostly aided by the tides that turn it from part of mainland France to an island.  Very early on in your sighting of it do you realize just how amazing this UNESCO heritage site is.

It is rainy out today, but we hike the slick rocks to the top paying respects to the monastery and then head back down.  I grab a rosary and slowly make my way down.  Mind you it is very slick.  One woman even falls victim to the steep and slick inclines.  Tammy meets me at the bottom and we decide to tuck into a restaurant for a quick bite before we leave.

Now this restaurant is no ordinary restaurant.  It is La Mere Poulard.  A 131 year-old Michelin star restaurant for their world famous omelette.  Opened in 1888 they have been preparing the omelette in fire pits, first whipping them in a controlled rhythm.  Sounding much like a jazz percussionist.  

We receive our omelette.  It is massive.  I inquire to how many eggs are in each and am told 3 to 5.  That seems small comparative to the size.  We also order a dish with their famous camembert cheese.  We polish off both plates and make our way back to the car.  We have a long drive home but not before stopping off to get their famous cider and more camembert.

This trip is long.  Along the way I must drink at least 6 red bulls and I hate red bull.  But for as tired as I am there is nothing that will wake you up like tunnels leading into the city center of Paris and then eventually the dreaded Avenue de Clichy... and it doesn’t disappoint.

Several curse words, 80 re-routes and a trip down a bus lane later, we manage somehow to find the prepaid parking garage.  We park the car, walk up to Montmartre, past the cafe from Amelie and straight to get a drink.  It is all I can deal with right now.  Avenue de Clichy can lick my....  G’night.        

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Le jour des morts.  Our day of the dead.  It promises to be a rainy and dreary day, so ultimately a perfect setting for our day.  We head out early to Montparnasse to spend our entire day almost with those no longer with us.  We get to the Paris Catacombs first and a bit early so we sit down for a favorite, croissant and cafe creme for me.  The same with a regular coffee for Tam.  We strike up a lovely conversation with Monsieur Robert at the table next to us.  So lovely that we hate to cut the conversation short but have a timed tour at the Catacombs of Paris.

The catacombs are underground ossuaries in Paris which hold the remains of over 6 millions Parisians.  Though we are on an authorized visit there are stories of unauthorized visits by cataphiles, urban explorers who have at times gotten lost within miles of tunnels underneath the city.  It truly is fascinating and our guide, a transplant from England, is so informative.  Next stop... a quick bus ride and then train ride to Pere Lachaise Cemetery.       

The rain is coming down especially hard so we tuck into a cafe for some wine and onion soup.  Fully warmed we start exploring.  Seurat, Delacroix, Balzac, Proust, Isadora Duncan, Maria Callas, Gertrude Stein, Edith Piaf, Sarah Bernhardt, Moliere, Marcel Marceau, Gerricault, Chopin, Jim Morrison, Heloise and Abelard,  Those are amongst the known names, but then there are simply the gorgeous tombs and then favorites, Oscar Wilde which I leave a red kiss on the glass and Victor Noir.  

Now Victor is a French journalist for whom I did not know much about.  The interest here is that due to the fold in the pants of his tomb, it has become somewhat of a fertility symbol.  Those seeking to benefit rub his... ahem... fold.  The bronze statue has a patina over the entire tomb except for that spot.  Also is just the fact that it looks like he is laying there.  Very creepy.

"My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or other of us has to go."  I guess the wallpaper won as these words were spoken by another favorite, Oscar Wilde shortly before his death of meningitis.  Thrown out of Ireland due to his lifestyle, he took refuge in Paris drinking, ultimately until his untimely demise at the age of 46.  The tomb used to be covered in red kisses before being partitioned off.  

We make our way throughout the huge cemetery, leaving our hearts at the grave of the lizard king, before making our way back to Montmartre for our first planned night out.

“Crazy Horse, Paris France.  Forgot the names, remember romance.” - Motley Crue.

Honest to God before I was really into burlesque, this is all I knew about the institution Crazy Horse Paris.  Opened in 1951, it has celebrated 68 years.  Since then I know that Dita VonTeese has performed there and it ends up being our favorite thing so far in Paris.

On our way we stop for a couple glasses of wine at a local Brasserie while resting our feet from our day long le jour des morts.  Finished we head in and are so incredibly close to the stage.  The guy next to us nervously awaits the show as do we, but without an ounce of worry.

Then... there he is.  George.  George BangAble full name.  Black and silver stripped smoking jacket, pencil moustache, hair in a perfect coif back and a glistening to the skin.    He looks directly to me, “voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”  I’ll play along.  “Oui,” I answer.  “Oooooooooh,” he says followed by some French that I do not understand, but I give him a wink.  This will continue to play out throughout the night.

This show is truly fantastic.  The technical elements are brilliant so much so that at one point I forget I’m watching nude women on the stage.  I’m literally trying to figure out how they did everything.  They open in Beefeater costumes at one point mimicking horses and transition from expected sexy numbers (all are sexy but some more than others), to pure and extreme camp.  Everything is broken up by George and a couple of Ukrainian twin male dancers that are fantastic.  In fact every portion of this show was incredible except for possibly the champagne.

The show ends and we are completely taken to the place they want us at.  As we exit we notice George.  We wait patiently for him to finish his conversation with a male audience member.  He tries to get away to us several times, eventually succeeding.  He greets me, “oooooh mon amour.”  This whole interaction is pure and perfect camp.  Such a wink and a nod to the whole experience.  I give him a hug and thank him for the wonderful night.  Tam snaps a picture and we are on our way.

We are both a bit tipsy.  We walk toward the Eiffel Tower and around the Champs de Mars before determining that it is time for bed.  Too tired to look for public transport, I hail a cab.  We get Max who gives us French lessons on our way back to the BnB.  

Finally back home we finally drink some water before heading off to bed.  Early morning tomorrow.  Giverny then out toward Normandy.        

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

“La vie est un jeu.”  Life is a game.  That is what we learn today as we venture into the  Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen (the Saint-Ouen Flea Market) one if not the largest in the world.  This is right up my raccoon alley as it is rooting through people’s trash for treasurers.  This is especially the case in my market of choice the Vernaison Market.  There are literally hundreds of markets within each named market.  Vernaison as mentioned is like rummaging through someone’s garage, Dauphine is a hipsters and vinyl lovers paradise, Biron is an 18th thru 20th century Asian furniture paradise and Paul Bert Serpette which is where we will lèche-vitrine (window shop) literally translated as, “window licking” as it is way too expensive for our pocketbooks.

We are a little early and the markets have not opened so we stop into a shop for a quick croissant and cafe creme.  My favorite while in Paris.  We then head to the market which still has not quite opened except for a few stalls so we talk to a lovely fellow from Senegal.  I buy Simba a little wooden French chat for his collection and Tammy buys a wooden carving as well.  We probably paid too much but it primes us for the day.  

The main markets still haven’t opened so we head into a larger store called Mes Decouvertes, “My Discoveries,” by Julien Cohen.  This store is literally my brain in terms of his repurposed masterpieces.  Check out his website mes-decouvertes.com.  For real it is unreal.  We spend so much time in there even considering purchasing his book, “La Vie est Un Jeu,” (Life is a Game) before reconciling the fact that we will have to translate the entire thing.  Otherwise we cannot afford anything in this store, but it is so full of beauty.

Finally the market is officially open.  We wander through Biron quickly before making our way through Paul Bert Serpette and then onto the main market that I’m here for... Vernaison.  I’m on the hunt for an absinthe spoon.  I finally manage to find one, but along the way find french comics, fun ashtrays, corks, some 7′s (a weird collection for me) and a few other gifts.

We wander through the tightly packed stalls and before too long, it is lunchtime.  We tuck into Chez Luisette at the back of the Vernaison market for a bite.  We are here less for the food, but the entertainment.  We have come for chanteur d'Edith Piaf, Manuela who has sang for decades there according to the photos outside.

Now Chez Luisette is a mish mosh of Christmas tinsel and anything else they could find and through on the wall.  In other words, my kind of place.  Manuela belts out, “La Vie En Rose,” and we are transported in this quirkly little piece of heaven buried deep in the market.  I make friends of our server and am given a menu as a keepsake.  The band flirts with everyone as do the other singers, seemingly a normal occurrence here.  We order a cheese plate and a couple glasses of wine and enjoy the show before heading back out to the markets.  Final stop, Marche Dauphine where we pick up some vinyl.  Ms. Piaf of course, Josephine Baker and then oddly a jazz group that recorded the album at the Aragon Ballroom near my home in Chicago.  

We head out of the market, but not before buying a couple of purses.  We wander up to Sacre Coeur, but walk past it.  We want to get rid of our purchases before venturing back out, but not before being sucked into the artist square, “Place du Tertre.”  Tam buys some art.  We tuck in for a quick aperol spritz... or two.  A little tipsy we head back to our BnB.   We wind through the back streets of Montmartre unload and head back out.

We head back to see Sacre Coeur for a visit inside before climbing to the top.  So beautify.  The views are spectacular and bells begin to ring.  I snap a few shots.  My favorite is the view from Sacre Coeur to the Eiffel Tower.  A snap that I will return the favor  from the Eiffel Tower later in our trip.

We finish our trek up Sacre Couer, pass by Moulin de la Galette imortalized in many paintings by VanGogh, Pissarro and most notably Renoir in, “Bal du moulin de la Galette .”  It is such an art centric part of town.  Picasso even lived just about 500 feet away from our BnB’s front door at Bateau Lavoir in Place Emile Goudeau, a lovely little square.   

We find le passe-muraille, “the wall pass,” and head on back to Le Maison Rose for dinner.  A deliciously display of locally sourced food.  A delicious meal and bottle of wine later, we take in the Montmartre vineyards a quick peek at Au Lapin Agile (the show had already started), before heading back toward Sacre Coeur.  We buy a couple of street beers each and join in the joie de vivre in Paris.

Then in the distance we hear classical music.  I know of a hidden ampitheatre in the area that is not open to the public, Arenas de Montmartre.  Could this be?  We shuffle down a staircase to an opening.  The gentleman at the gate ushers us in where we get to take in a classical violin and cello performance at night in Montmartre.  I always wonder into these things.  With an open heart and an open mind who knows what you will find.  I assure you, with both open, you will always find experiences... delicious experiences.

We are tired, but then spot an Irish pub.  We are creatures of habit.  We tuck in for a couple of Guinness before heading home for sleep.  We sleep fast.  Back up tomorrow for more.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

“Aujourd'hui, nous sommes allés assouvir mes désirs extrêmes dans le désir de voyager.”  Today we set off to satiate my extreme desires in wanderlust.  This time, France, Mostly Paris but also Northern France.  My travel partner again, best friend in the world, T-Bone. We get off to a smooth start.  Couple of glasses of wine later on the plane later and seemingly we set down in Charles DeGaulle.  Barely time to realize where we are as we go quickly to the Europcar desk and we are off in what will be known as Henri, the car.  Henri was named as such as he was a bit ornery, particularly later with his mirrors.

We are headed to Reims and then Epernay, France, generally known as the champagne region.  It really is a quick stop off in Reims as I want Tam to see somewhat of a representation of Notre Dame, Paris that recently burned and they have Notre Dame Reims that is very similar.  We do a quick turn around of the cathedral, get me a rosary and then head on to Epernay which is the Champagne capital.

Driving into Epernay takes us past row after row of vineyards, perfectly laid out in succession.  Little armies of delicious happiness.  If that is what they are we drive into their governmental headquarters, “champagners row.”  Michel Gonet, Perrier Jouet, Champagne de Vinoge are all along the way before finding our house of choice, Moet and Chandon.

While there are so many choices, I selected Moet and Chandon mainly because champagne was created by a monk named Dom Perignon and Moet and Chandon is the house that created the champagne of the same name.  Otherwise with the hundreds of miles of champagne caves under the region I really don’t think there are too many opportunities to make a really bad decision.

We head down to the caves which are perfectly cooled at a temperature that is created by the region.  It remains the same in all seasons.  Absolutely no tempering of the caves happens and it is the right temperature to create champagne.  We learn about the delicate and difficult ecosystem of the area which help to create the strong roots which lends itself to the delicious bubbly drink.  We also learn about how bottles are hand turned even today and all of the other secrets in creating the perfect bottle.  So much time and effort goes into each one.  

We finally get to our favorite part, the tasting and today we are in for a treat.  Not only do we get to try their 2012 Grand Vintage Brut and Rose.  While each year of the region creates champagne only certain years warrant the signature of, “Grand Vintage,” and you guessed it, 2012 was the last of those years.  We sip them down with two new friends we meet from Norway.  Tam prefers the Rose, I’m indecisive at first but then firmly slide into the Brut, possibly one of the driest champagnes I’ve ever had.  So very delicate and the bubbles tickle slightly as we enjoy every drop.  I grab a bottle from the gift shop for us to enjoy later in our trip and then we are on our way.

We make it back to Paris only to discover that Avenue de Clichy is what is going to be my death trap and thanks to some google maps bullshit of Pigalle and Montmartre area in general we narrowly escape death before finding our BnB.  Fortunately there is parking across the road so I will not need to drive back down to Avenue de Clichy to park in our prepaid lot.

We meet Guillame our BnB host who takes our bags upstairs, shows us around and makes some recommendations which we promptly ignore after he leaves in search for simply some food.  Cafe Bruant will do.  We get soupe aux ongions, frites and delicious red cotes du Rhones, finished off by creme brulee.  Perfection for two people who have pretty much not eaten anything but airplane food for the day.  I’m reminded of the one issue I generally have in Paris however, cigarette smoke.  We leave before I choke to death on the fumes.  Perfectly satiated we tuck into bed and quickly drift to sleep.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Sweet Home Chicago!  We made it home and Tam goes home today, but before we are going to go drink in more Ireland.  She has found her family’s bar here in my city.  Love. As if it weren’t perfect finding that, after I drop her at the airport I drive by some bagpipers in some sort of parade near my neighborhood.  It makes me want to go back.  Just let me go get my cat first.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

We go home today and it truly is bittersweet.  On one hand, I miss my cat.  On the other... these two countries are literally my favorite.  I could keep coming back and I will.

Today though we have the morning so we thought we would head back out to see a few more of the sights and have a lovely morning walk through St. Stephen’s Green arch and onto Grafton Street.

We first head to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells.  To be honest I’m most interested in the gorgeous Long Room.  You can’t take pictures of the Book of Kells but it really is quite the work.  The Long Room however is just architecturally exquisite.

Next we walk about to see some of the monuments.  Molly Malone, the very powerful Potato Famine memorial and then upon the jauntiest of them all, Mr. Oscar Wilde.

He is one of my favorite writers, characters and author of a quote that I think encompasses my true being on this earth.

“To live is the rarest thing in the world.  Most people exist, that is all.” - Oscar Wilde

Now save a few very bad years a few years ago, when I was literally just trying to exist while living in a fog of misery and frustration, that pretty much sums up how I live my life and always have.  I live.  My mind wanders, dreams and what is going on inside my head is better than any party you could wander into.  Sometimes and often times those parties in my head become realities.  They certainly did on this trip.  This part of me is what I truly do love and cherish about myself and I got to spend it with my oldest friend.

We head to the airport and drink in one last bit of Ireland at the airport.

Slainte my dear Ireland.  Until we see each other again.  Soon.  It will be soon.  

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today begins as peacefully as is possible.  We head up to the heather for a quick bite before going to take in the serene place that is Glendalough.  I really hate that we don’t have more time here because this is just such a place that you could get a bottle of whiskey and sit out under the stars at night.  It’s pretty natural, because of all the places we have been, this is the place that most reminds me of my beloved Scotland.

We head down for the hiking trail.  It is just so very gorgeous.  We take the track down to the cemetery and then the lake before hiking back up to our car and taking off to Dublin.  Trust this all took longer than what this paragraph insinuated but I have a hard time writing about Glendalough because I really just want to go back.

We head out to Dublin.  We check into our hotel, Harrington Hall.  The same place I stayed last time.  Perfect due to parking and location to the city.  We park our car and head out.  Our goal here.  Drink in as much of Ireland as possible on our last full day here.  So we do.  First... walking through St. Stephen’s Green to get Stag’s Head Pub where we get a pint and of course in Ireland that pint never changes unless you specify and then my sterotypical favorite.  Potato soup and soda bread with unbeatable Irish butter.  Such a cliche, but it truly does make so much sense when you are here because it is warm and filling in the damp cool weather, with the nectar of gods to wash it down.

We finish up and go walking about.  I know we see St. Patrick’s and Christchurch Cathedral respectively.  I also know at some point we visited Brazen Head Pub and the Jameson Distillery, but to be quite honest something went off track around the Lord Edward Pub.  

No first if I mention a pub in these blogs, it has been researched and it is good and known for some reason or other.  However our day got real hazy around the Lord Edward.  We shuffled in for a beer.  A single beer and what we got was an experience.

There were three regulars at the bar.  One of whom I can’t remember his name, but at some point started telling Tammy about the woman he loved.  Can’t make this shit up.  The other was a small and nervous little man named Seamus.  Seriously... this is all true.  Then there was Tommy.  Rhastafarian Tommy.  Or at least that is what he told us.  I exclaimed, “Jah bless.”  To which he replied with a confused look, “what the hell are you talking about?”  BUSTED!  “You’re not a rhastafarian, you are just a pothead.”  Tommy slaps the bar and starts laughing like a hyena.  Tammy and I are both startled.

Next thing I know Tommy has delved into our lives and he and I have taken to smacking each other on the shoulder.  To be fair, I started it.  He finds out that Tammy is the Irish girl and then looks to me.  “You Irish?”  “A little,” I answer, “but mostly Scottish.”  “I fookin’ knew it.  Your full of too much piss.  I’m going to call you Haggis.”

Keith the bartender, a somewhat younger and clean cut version of Captain Jack from Pirates of the Carribean shouts, “pipe down you fookin’ old fook.”  Tommy starts yelling back.  They continue the back and forth arguing.  “Seamus is fookin’ deaf in his left ear because of your loud trap.  Isn’t that right Seamus?”  Keith exclaims.  Seamus just smiles.  He is clearly amused by Tommy, but mostly because I start arguing with Tommy as well.  I suspect Tommy tends to hold court the most with Keith or anyone for that matter, while timid and nervous Seamus just watches.  I think Tommy is who he wishes he could be more like.  For what reason I have not a clue.

We sit and sip our beer.  Keith teaches us some gaelic.  He shows Tammy the gaelic version of her name, gets to mine and was like... “it’s just Jennifer.”  Tommy screams, “it’s fookin’ Haggis.”  I smack him across the chest and he laughs again.  Wheezing and struggling for breath again like a hyena that has lived on 3 packs of Pall Mall’s for the best of his natural life.

Tammy eventually becomes involved in her conversation with the kind and gentle man who’s name I for got, leaving me with this loud and obnoxious claimed Rhastafarian with a lichen growing off of his eyelid.  I can’t imagine what state that skin tag is in.  He clearly is still alive because he has more alcohol in his veins than blood at this point.  Cancer is screwed if it tries to attack Tommy.  He has sterilized himself with Guinness and Irish Whiskey... and some other concoction that he pulls out of his pocket.

We finish up and head out, but not before I argue with who I now refer to as Fookin’ Tommy for another 10 minutes.  “Fookin’ Tommy your and idiot.”  “Ohhhhh... is that whatcha think Haggis... do you wanna get high?”  Seriously I don’t know how he makes his transitions.  

We manage to extricate ourselves from the bar.  I don’t know what happened after that.  I know we went for dinner.  We put a lock on Ha’penny bridge over the River Liffey, like I said the Jameson Distillery, Brazen Head and Temple Bar were in there somewhere.  

Does it really matter though.  That experience is the reason that I travel.  I mean... that doesn’t happen in Chicago.  That experience was sooooo fookin’ Irish.  That would never happen in Chicago with that amount of authenticity.  And it is all because we showed up to this bar, with three crazy regulars and a pissy bartender just living their regular damn lives.

At the end of the day we were near Temple Bar.  I do know that.  We decide to go back to the hotel for a moment before heading back out.  But we’ve had enough.  We are exhausted.  We tuck in and despite the thumping dance music from the bar across the street, quickly fall asleep.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today we are up bright and early because this is the Irish Callaghan version of my Glen Affric, Scotland part of the trip.  as we were planning this trip Tam told me she did not know much about her family other than that they were from Cork.  In Ireland that could mean the city, but I know most likely it meant County Cork which encompasses a large part of the Republic.  

I immediately started researching.  Genealogy and research is a favorite past-time of mine.  I really do like figuring things out.  Some sleuthing through the Callahan name later I discovered her family was likely from a town called Mallow, just about 20 minutes outside of Cork.  There were actually two castles.  Dromaneen Castle, which I will get to and Clonmeen Castle, which about all that is left is the lower foundation surrounded by a cattle farm.  We set off for Clonmeen, which again there isn’t much left of it, but the important aspect of it was that there was a cemetery filled with likely ancestors of Tammy. But first... off though a whimsical trip to Blarney Castle.

The lovely part about where we stayed is that we could have simply walked to Blarney Castle, however since we needed to leave right away, as we have to make our way to Wicklow before night, we loaded up the car and drove over.

Having been there before and fairly early in the line I coax Tammy pretty quickly to get in line for the Blarney Stone.  I know she wants to do it and it gets backed up so if we get there quickly, we can get through the castle and then onto the rest of the grounds.  The ritual goes as the last couple of times that I did it.  Sit down and the man lowers you back and BAM... eloquent as hell.  Or so the tale goes.

We walk around the beautiful grounds including the 7 Sisters and the Dolmen stone.  This place is magical.  Literally.  We continue through the fairy glen, near the witches kitchen and druid circle and then onto my favorite part of the gardens... The Wishing Steps.  Seriously.  I like them more than the actual stone.  The story goes, that if you walk down and back up the Wishing Steps with your eyes closed while thinking only of a wish, that wish will come true within a year. The wish will be granted by the Blarney Witch, because she steals firewood from the Estate for her kitchen. In order to pay for this stolen firewood, she has to grant the wishes of those who walk these stairs.  Now this seems simple, but is actually more simple said than actually done.  The steps are generally wet and are not at all steps as you think of them.  They are carved of stone and no one is like the other.  Also at the very top and very bottom there is nothing to hang onto so falling is possible and seemingly likely.  

I have to say that I did this last year and my wish did manifest but in an even more wonderful way.  I wished more specifically this year.  We see how things turn out.  Finished we get in the car and head to Mallow.

First stop though... Cork.  We drive around.  I find St. Finn Barre’s Cathedral and then we find the main bar I want to visit, the Mutton Lane Inn.  It is fantastic and exactly what the quintessential bar in Ireland is supposed to look like.  We have a few or so beers in Cork... Who’s counting?  And then we head off to find Tammy’s heritage.  

Clonmeen Cemetery!  We went walking around the dilapidated chapel within the grounds before nature called and well... I’ve now peed in a cemetery.  Not my finest work and I made sure to go toward the pasture and away from the graves, but what is done is done.  Can’t go back.  We notice the names throughout... John... Corneilius... and my personal favorite, Honor.  It begins to rain and we get to the car, turning once more to pay respects to the family that brought me my best friend.

Now off to look for Dromaneen Castle.  Dromaneen is located near Mallow on River Blackwater.  I knew that we very possibly would not be able to see this one as it was on private property, but we did try and went off-road up until we hit an impasse.  So we turned around and started our drive back out.  We stop to ask a local man on his mid-day walk if he knew where the castle was.  He pointed in the direction and told us we should go back and knock on the door.  I have no problem with this, but Tammy wants to move on.  The gentleman gently grabs her hand though and tells her of her family and where they are from now before giving us a huge tip about 20 minutes later.  We can see this castle from the highway on the other side.  And so we do.  This kind soul though.  Just on his daily walk.  This is why I love Ireland so.

Next is probably the scariest and most hilarious time that we have.  It is getting dark.  We have to get ourselves in a car too big for these tiny Irish roads, driving stick, on the wrong side of the car, and the wrong side of the road, through rain and fog, in the dark, up a mountain, avoid hitting deer all the while the sides of the road are basically just you driving off a mountain if you aren’t too careful.  How does one go about this?  Deano and Frankie baby!!!  I don’t know why.  Well actually, “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head,” by Dean Martin I want played at my funeral and I’m pretty sure we are about to die.  That however leads into, “That’s Life,” by Frank Sinatra and reminds us of the scene in Licence to Drive where the guy that steals the caddy is making drinks and cutting limes on the dashboard.  We start quoting the movie non-stop while power singing along with Frank.  

I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king I've been up and down and over and out and I know one thing Each time I find myself layin' flat on my face I just pick myself up and get back in the race That's life (that's life), that's life and I can't deny it Many times I thought of cuttin' out but my heart won't buy it But if there's nothin' shakin' come this here July I'm gonna roll myself up in a big ball a-and die

We literally listened to those two songs over and over and eventually we had made it to Wicklow.  We quickly get to the restaurant which was suggested by my friend Pad.  Thanks Pad.  Then we have the most delicious meal (just short of the pizza in Cahersiveen).  The lovely lady checks us into our room which is stunning.  Seriously.  It is the Wicklow Heather.  Go.  The night is so dark due to the lack of lights around.  You are in the mountains or for me... heaven.  We drift quickly to sleep.  Tomorrow is our last full day before we head home.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today we embark on the sole reason we are in Portmagee, to head out to see the Skelligs... and we are off to a rough start.  Literally a rough start.  Apparently the seas are too choppy for the boats to make the 8 mile trek out to the Islands.  When the seas are this way they commonly cancel.  So we wait around for a couple hours until we find our Captain, Pat Joe Murphy is like a damn honey badger and DNGAF!  We’re going.

It is funny... on the way out that the people who were complaining the most about the boats being delayed are now the ones that are trying not to puke as we take on the waves out to the island.  I laugh and sit back and enjoy the ride, watching some dolphins along the way.

Then we see them.  Way out in the middle of nowhere, two large rocks.  One looks like snow capped mountains.  We later find out that it is bird poop and the one island, “Bird Island,” is home to thousands of birds.  Seriously it is insane.  I kept looking at it and thought it was CGI.  The birds were swarming everywhere.  Fascinating.

Next our boat gets in line for Skellig Michael (yes the place where Star Wars was filmed though I couldn’t really care less).  We make our way over.  Getting onto the rock is a feat as you are tossed about.  You wait until the perfect moment that the boat rocks up and are pushed by one captain and pulled by another onto the rock.

We head on up.  The hike is no joke at about a 45 degree angle.  There are no hand rails and the rock is cut out of the earth by monks.  This is not for the faint of heart.  Bad knees or ankles?  You are going to have a hard time getting down.  

We finally make it to the summit and find the beehives where the monks lived.  It is interesting to see that they developed a plumbing system and community on a big rock in the middle of the damn ocean.  You truly scratch your head as you try to figure out how they did it.  Truly amazing.

On our way out we find a tombstone for a Patrick Callahan.  That is the name of Tammy’s brother.  We make jokes and go on.  We have to get back down the rock before our boat leaves and Tammy is concerned about making it down, so she does so on her rear.  Safely at the bottom we have the same tricky boarding of the boat and we are on our way back.  We arrive safely, thanks Pat Joe, and get going to our next destination.

So I have a little something up my sleeve.  I have found an O’Callaghan’s pub on the way to Blarney where we are staying for the night.  What I did not expect is for the GPS to route us to another one that I didn’t know about, however I’m so happy that it did.  We went in and met the owners of the tiny, rural pub.  They were just the sweetest.  I took in the scenery while Tammy talked to, I don’t know... probably her cousin.  We finished our beer and they went outside to take a photo together.  Such kind people.  Was soooo happy to get to meet them.

Determined to find the pub that I actually knew about I tried again and luckily found it.  This was a much larger establishment, but still in the middle of nowhere.  We headed in and had a couple more beers.  We also met the owner of the pub and the pub dog.  She gave us some business cards and a magnet for Tammy.  We walked over to the actual bar for another beer and ran into some characters.  I discussed with them how they are like the Randy Smock’s of Ireland and they all now worship Randy.  Probably need to let Randy know that he now runs a cult.  They try to keep us there but I insist that we leave as it is getting late and we need to get checked into our BNB.

We head on out and then find our way to Blarney and the Muskerry Arms Pub.  Now this is not my first time here.  MJ and I ate here last time we were in Blarney, however this is my first time staying and I could not be more happy I did.  The owner of pub, Jerome, invited us in and got us a much needed beer.  I know.  I know.  We have had several before this, but it was the wind down of the day.  He was so very kind and told us the history of the bar.  Tammy noted her ancestry and he felt ever so keen on showing her maps about the bar with information on them regarding her family.  We headed back to the bar and of course decided to buy yet another shirt.  This time, Jerome handed us the keys and told us to go up to the office to get what we wanted.  Seriously... this would not happen in Chicago.  We did and came back down.  He came over and talked to us between customers, before we finished up and headed up for sleep.  

For real though if you go to Blarney or anywhere around Cork for that matter, do yourself a favor and stay here.  The hospitality is unmatched.  I have referred another couple friends here and they loved it as well.  Fabulous place and Jerome is amazing.

Sleep comes fast tonight.  Can’t wait to start the day again tomorrow.  Beginning just now to really miss my cat.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today we start out of Galway, but will make our way down to Portmagee, on the Ring of Kerry.  First stop?  Doolin.  

The last time I drove to Doolin I was with my other best friend MJ.  She drove and there were some concern for the roads, so knowing that we were coming all the way from Northern Ireland, I skipped staying here for two nights because I didn’t think I could make that trek a few days ago.  I’m so sad that I did, because the roads weren’t that much of an issue and I believe in the dark we would have made it fine.  You live and you learn.  Doolin seems more Tammy’s speed and I think she would have enjoyed it more.  To be fair though it is hard to enjoy Galway tired and Scotland and Ireland have beat the hell out of our bodies.

Along the way to Doolin we stop off by a couple sights including Dunguaire Castle (it isn’t open and we have a boat to catch so must be on our way) and Corcomroe Abbey, where we meet some lovely ladies, tending the cemetery.  They later school me on how my friend Padraic’s name is pronounced (according to them it is “pour rick,” but in the area of Ireland that his family is from it is most assuredly how they pronounce it “pawd rick.”  We thank them for their time, wish them well and then leave.  

The funniest thing happened though on our way out.  We pulled over to look at some cows and they all came charging at Tammy.  I nearly died laughing.

We toodle along on down to Doolin, by the gorgeous countryside and then eventually see the Matchmaker Bar.  Tammy has been droning on and on about this thing and there it is.  A.  Real.  Thing.  

We finally make it to Doolin and stop into music shop where we both buy Irish harps (and a tin whistle for me) and then to Gus O’Connors pub to have a couple of beers before heading to the dock to get on the boat tour of the Cliff’s of Moher.  I choose my namesake beer, the “Cute Hoor.”  We still have about an hour (so we think).  We of course buy more pub shirts.  Told you this was becoming a thing.  We head down to the dock to only find we are two hours late.  After some teasing from the boat guy he finally lets us know that he is letting us on the next boat.  I give him a hug and thank him. 

We head down to the dock and get on the boat only to discover a naked man over on the rocks.  We joke that it is the spirit of Tam’s dad Phil (a.k.a. Father Dowling).  First his name was Phil Callahan.  Don’t ask why we call him Father Dowling.  Second Phil has gone onto the next world, but the reason this joke happens is that he notoriously used to mow his lawn in his speedo.  Still this object we saw on the rock I know what his spirit following us into Ireland.

We head out to the cliffs.  My first trip to the cliffs was walking them, which I do recommend more than the boat ride.  For one there are sooooo many people on the tiny boat and getting a good view, especially in full sun is very hard.  Still they were very pretty and I’m happy we saw them from this angle.

Next onto O’Callaghanmills.  This was a town in Ireland that Tammy’s people migrated to.  It really is a little bit of nothing in the middle of nowhere (Tammy’s actual clan is from a town called Mallow in County Cork), but still we drive through.  It literally takes 10 minutes to drive through it both ways.  Not much to see we head onto Bunratty Castle.

Bunratty Castle is boring as hell.  Save yourself a trip.  it is the Silver Dollar City of Irish Castles.  There are castle ruins with more character than this place.  Unless you are bored or have children... avoid at all cost.  The off road redeems itself somewhat as we stop off for a beer and then a silly mood ring before we get on the road.  So much for us not spending money on stupid stuff like we did in high school.

We head quickly down to the Ring of Kerry.  I will drive about 1/2 today and 1/2 tomorrow as we will be staying in a town called Portmagee which is on the southwest side of the ring.  Before we make it we stop off at a delicious pizza restaurant called, “The Oratory,” in Cahersiveen.

Now the Oratory is gorgeously designed from an old church in ruin.  The lighting is exquisite and well done.  More importantly the pizza is delicious.  I have difficulty choosing from a more traditional pesto option and a peach and gorgonzola option.  The lady lets me know I can do both.  I later find out that I should have trusted my instincts and gone with the entire pizza being the peach option with gorgonzola and drizzled with a balsamic reduction.  The pizzas are also Napolitiano style which I’m a sucker for.  How did I ever tire of these things in Naples?!?!  Tammy ends up buying a painting of Skellig Michael Island which we will be visiting tomorrow.  She likes the moons in it and meets the artist who happens to be dining in the restaurant..

We move on.  We have about 30 minutes to go until we get to Portmagee, and I would be remiss in noting that I’m a little nervous about it.  There aren’t tons of lights on the ring of Kerry.  

We manage to get down to the turn to Portmagee just as the sun disappears.  The next few minutes are sheer nervousness as it is pitch black on a single track road in the middle of nowhere in a country that we are foreign to.  I however manage.  We park and head inside.  We get situated and head of course to the bar for a couple of beers.  We strike up a conversation with the bartender and a fisherman from the area.  He tells of the dog races that he participates in.  We are discovering this is a bit of a thing for a lot of people in the area.

We finish up and decide to head to bed.  We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, scaling Skellig Michael.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today we head off of the mainland of the Republic and to the Aran Islands, more specifically Inis Moor or Inishmore, the largest of the three islands.  They are located about 6-8 miles off the west coast of Ireland.  To live there would take a special person, because about all you see for the majority of the land is rock.  They make fences that go for miles out of them.  It is spectacular and it is kind of a glimpse of how simple life can be if you let it.  The land however is populated by 840 (for Inis Mor) and is known for it’s dedication to Irish culture and specifically the gaelic language.

We grab a couple of bikes despite the drizzly weather and start our journey.  We quickly go off road where my bike is not equipped to be (I selected a road bike).  My chain falls off and then well... so do I.  Right into a briar bush to be exact.  Thank God I’m layered.  Now I’m wet, cold and pissed.  We get back to the road and carry on.  We check out Kilmurvey Beach where there are supposed to be a seal settlement.  None today.  Guess the seals don’t want to get as wet as we are getting.  ;)  We see more cairns, horses, goats and cows along with other sights before coming upon Na Seacht Teampaill (The Seven Churches).  Tammy has gone ahead so I take a quiet moment to look at the graves and have an RX Bar.  Shortly after we head to  Dun Aonghasa.  For the first time you realize... “man... we are really on an island in the middle of the ocean.  It makes you feel really small.  We look at the spectacular stone wall before we decide to move along.  

The weather is truly just miserable and there isn’t a portion of my entire body that isn’t drenched.  I’m exhausted from biking an entire island and don’t really want to go on much further before I spot an adorable little donkey.  I take a break to go pet him and start missing my pet donkey Jack, from when I was little.  Although I could stay with him forever I move along and am finally rewarded for my work across this island with a beer at TJ Watty’s pub.  These beers go down quicker than any that we have had thusfar.  We return our bikes and head to the dock.

On our way back to Galway we spot a seaside restaurant.  We are both starving so we stop in to grab a bite before heading back to Galway.  We finish and head home.  We are both a bit exhausted and decide to have an early night before heading down to Doolin tomorrow.  Good night everyone.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Such an early morning after such a late drunken night.  We however get to go now on something that Tam and I have discussed for years and that is the Peace Wall, Falls and Shankill Roads and the struggles of Belfast between the Protestants, Catholics, British and Irish Republicans.

This morning we meet Trevor from the Black Taxi Tours of Belfast.  Trevor was born and raised in Belfast and is genuinely a very kind soul.  Such a lovely man.  He paints a picture of Belfast throughout his lifetime as we head toward our destination, pointing out buildings that had been blown up along the way and even telling us of a young love story torn apart by this conflict.  I remember him telling him of his girlfriend that lived on the other side of town and his father’s very real threat of breaking his legs if he ever went to see her again.  The threat came from love and a father wanting to protect his son from probably death or dismemberment by going into town where bombs were going off regularly.

We learn this conflict is still very real.  As I mentioned yesterday the tension is palpable in this town.  You feel the energy as soon as you enter.  There is not a lot of trust between the camps and to this day the peace gates are locked for resident’s protection.

Soon enough we are at The Falls Road and then Shankhill Road.  The roads if you didn’t know were synonymous with their communities.  Falls being the Republican Community while Shankill Road is predominantly loyalist.  Both are separated by Peace lines. Between the two we look at murals along the peace wall depicting Irish struggles including the human rights mural (with the painting of Mynamar leader Aung San Suu Kyi’s portrait defaced likely due to the conflict in Rohingya) and the famed Bobby Sands mural.  Bobby Sands was a Provisional Irish Republican Army leader who died after a 66 day hunger strike and was even elected to Parliament 25 days before his death in prison.  The mural is one that, has stood the test of time.  Many murals are painted over.  This is the one image many attribute to Belfast and more specifically the IRA as a martyr symbol of the conflict for the Irish. 

Trevor continues to show us the divisions between the two and we soon end up in the Garden of Remembrance.  It is here that you realize the seemingly senselessness of all of these deaths when you stop to think about it.  I also have feelings that Ireland should be left to be Ireland.  Politics and religion play a major part of it, but both are driven by ego.  In my eyes, it is one culture’s desire to exist and be at the table under another country’s rule.  Yes once again politics and religion play a big part but on the surface these are all just people wanting to live their lives and the inability to let go of judgement.  It isn’t just Northern Ireland that this happens.  It is everywhere.  I dream of a day when everyone in the world can just live, but that requires letting go of ego... letting go of judgement.  As much as it is a wonderful idea, it is daunting proposal for most in the world.

We finish up with Trevor.  We thank him for the amazing tour and walk about the main business district of Belfast before getting back into Brigid and heading down to the Republic.  

I can’t rightly say that I would not be on the side of those supporting the Irish values as the Republic of Ireland is one of my favorite countries in this world.  Seriously these are the nicest people I have ever met in my travels.

We start our trip in the Republic as about as Irish as you can get.  The site of the pre-Christian High Kings of Ireland, the Hill of Tara.  The Christians didn’t leave it just such though, St. Patrick has been firmly placed there as well.

It is a beautiful site, but we have to move along.  We had intentions of going to Newgrange, but time is not on our side and we coast into Athlone.  Athlone is home to Sean’s Bar, at least the oldest Irish pub (900 A.D.) and possibly the oldest in the world.  We grab some beers and here we start our very odd pub shirt collection.  We quickly finish.  Gotta get to Galway, but we are both in agreement later.  If we come back, we are staying in this adorable and quaint town.

We finally get to Galway and find our B&B.  The place is fantastic and also a recording studio.  There are pictures of Rolling Stones members on the walls with the owners among many others.  I don’t have time to be impressed now though.  I have to get to the Piemaker for dinner.  Last time I was here I missed out.  They were out of pies, but we made it and I get a taste of their delicious savory pies.  Fully satiated we walk up the main area of Galway.  Street artists and musicians line the way.  I buy some art.  One watercolor painting from a lovely woman and a bunch of line art from an artist named Senah O’Connor.  Tam joins in and buys some from another artist that we see along the way named Ludwik.  Eventually we make our way over to O’Connell’s Pub (a very popular club in Galway) where we have a couple of gin and tonics.  The bar is very busy.  We finish off our drinks and go to find another quieter pub.  We go into another and grab a beer.  This pub is also packed so we cut our losses and head back to the BNB.  Probably for the best.  We have a long day tomorrow.

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

Today we leave Scotland.  It is truly bittersweet because I know Tammy is very excited about the next leg of our trip in Ireland for the same reasons that I’m not wanting to leave Scotland.  It feels like home and thanks to our delightful BNB last night we both have a suitcase full of clean laundry for the next leg of the T&J World Tour.

We leave our Air BNB host a bottle of wine, too be honest it is because it was the one bottle of liquor we had been tagging along that we didn’t manage to drink it before we left.  You best believe I drank all of my Isle of Skye beers and the ones that I had intended to bring back to a friend.  Sorry.  We get into Angus the car for the last time and drop him unceremoniously at the Hertz before making our way to the small Inverness airport.

We are among a huge bridal party getting on the plane and I immediately start looking for a pub in the airport to help me deal.  Instead we find an extremely hot Scot at their TSA counter.  Tammy is a bit obsessed.  After this trips I found that she does well with the Scots.  I fret not though because we are going to Ireland and no matter how much I dig the Scottish men, I find I do best with the Paddy’s.

It is a short trip.  We are simply going to Belfast where there is a bit of a snafu at the Hertz counter.  For real, I will forever boycott them for this problem and are given our new ride.  We go from our requested small car to an SUV.  Not idea... especially on the small single track roads of Ireland.  We have to get going though because we have to make our way up near Bushmills to do a couple of things.

First we stop by the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge.  The rope bridge is what it sounds like.  A.  Rope.  Bridge.  It was originally built by fishermen to connect two portions of land that have been eroded apart from one another.  This is a bit of a challenge for Tam.  She isn’t a fan of heights.  I however dance across and if there were a harness I would likely swing from it.  Totally in my element.  She handles it like a pro both over and back and I’m telling you the views are absolutely spectacular.  I highly recommend.

Next we rush over to the Giant’s Causeway.  I hate that we are so in a rush but the timing ends up perfect as we get to watch the sun set on this gorgeous nature made phenomenon.  As we are stepping around the hexagon to octagon shaped stones I realize I have seen this phenomenon before at kilt rock in Scotland.  The stones are formed by volcanic fissures eruptions.  It is an UNESCO World heritage site and one that I had wanted to see for a very long time.

We make our way back down to Belfast, get into our hotel and then head out to the pub.  I had researched a few while I was here, but the one that was most important was Kelly’s Cellars.  It is the oldest traditional Irish Pub in Belfast and purportedly serves the finest pint of Guinness in the city.  We grab a couple and then a seat that we later discover is the Henry Joy McCracken corner.  Henry was a Irish Republican who was interested in preserving Irish culture and interested, even ending up in Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin for his efforts.  We are told that the area is a coveted seat.  We can attest it is a very fine pint of Guinness and drinking it from this seat makes it even more special.  Even more weird is that there is a shopping center that has burned down that day under questionable circumstances.  It is here we also discover a lovely Irish man that we refer to Dirty Mr. Clean, but later I find in a conversation with him, is Kieran.  Told you.  Irish boys.  I haven’t a clue why.  The place is amazing and if I ever wanted to come back to Belfast this may be the single reason why.  More on that later.

We finish off several Guinness before heading bidding adieu to Sean and head on to Madden’s, which is known more for it’s music.  We make friends with some locals one of which has taken an interest in Tammy.  His name is Keith or some nonsense.  I can barely tell because I have become embroiled in a feminist discussion with a local.  All I can tel you is white entitlement is not only an American issue.  I finally exclaim, “well it seems white male privilege is not only an American issue.  It seems to be doing well and fine in Northern Ireland and much like back home no little white boy is going to tell me what to do or how to think.”  Conversation.  Ended.  Oddly they end up inviting us to their restaurant the next day, but we have to make our way out of Northern Ireland into the Republic and Galway the next morning so we say goodbye.  

Belfast is still quite scary.  Politics here are quite reminiscent of what is going home back home.  You can feel it.  It is palpable.  I grab hold of my friend with one arm and with my fist balled on the other hand, I manage to find our way back to the hotel.

Good night Belfast.  Thanks for the hospitality when or where we can find it.  I hope you soon find your way out of your struggles.  

[roundtheworldwithtaytay]

We wake up for our last full day in Scotland.  We decide to do a quick walk through Inverness, heading by the Inverness Cathedral and by the Inverness Castle stopping first at Chisholm’s Highland Dress where of course I must spend a small fortune on a new tartan, dubh, and Quaich.  The proprietor of the store allows me to look at the Chisholm book, where Chisholms, Chisholmes, Chisums, Chisms and other variants of the name have signed throughout the year.  I’m unable to sign it as my last name is Taylor though I am a direct descendent.  Still it was fun to look at.

We head out stopping next by the Old High St. Stephen’s church which has both Chisholm’s and McBean’s buried there.  It seems Tammy and I were meant to be friends as our ancestors always seem to be near one another.  We walk along River Ness and then back to Angus (the car) in order to head out to the Culloden Battlefield.

We arrive at Culloden only to find that our families once again are drawn to one another.  Clan stones on the front walkway are next to one another.  We head through the museum part which is interesting enough and tells of the Jacobite rising.  I take pride in seeing my family’s name on the Culloden battle map.  It is next to the MacLean’s and Maclachlans who I believe my friend Tammy’s clan the McBeans fought alongside. 

We head into a film presentation in the museum.  The idea is that you find what these men endured in the less than 1 hour long battle.  You begin looking at the screen and the charge ensues.  It is brutal.  You turn to look away only to find another screen with more British and Jacobite men brutally killing one another.  You turn again and the slaughter does not stop.  The film is only a few minutes in length, but you realize the carnage within the first few seconds.  It is a brilliant depiction of the war that gets you ready for the solemn battlefield you are soon to see.

You walk along the land, knowing back then it was mostly bogs, potentially the worst fighting ground.  As you walk along you witness red flags (the British regiment) and blue flags (the Scottish regiment).  You walk past the Culloden memorial but before that the stone grave markers of fallen clan men.  Maclean.  Maclachlan.  Athol Highlanders.  Clan Stewart.  Clan Cameron.  Clan Mackintosh.  Clan Fraser.  Then you see several Mixed Clan stones.  It is incredibly somber.

We walk out to the Chisholm Clan regiment marker, pay our respects and walk the remaining path of all the other Jacobite regiments.  We walk past a stone that denotes, “cha b’ ann leinn a mhain ach le sinnsearan is siol.”  It is Gaelic for, “not for us alone but for ancestors and progeny.”  These were a proud people.  They were loyal to their country and held honor and loyalty above everything.  These are my people.

Enough somber moments for the rest of the trip we head onto the Clava Cairns.  The cairns are a Bronze Age circular chamber tomb cairn.  Basically a 4000 year-old cemetery.  We are somewhat interested because it was supposedly one of the sites that inspired Craig na Dune in the tv show Outlander.    We quickly do a walk thorough as a tourist bus pulls in shortly after us. 

We shuffle off to Cawdor Castle.  Now Cawdor is the ancestral home of the Campbell’s of Cawdor, near Nairn.  The castle is best known for its literary connection to William Shakespeare’s tragedy Macbeth, which is funny because historically it is impossible based on timelines.  Still it is a beautiful estate and the drive through Nairn is lovely.

By the time we finish this day we are exhausted and famished.  We walk around to Hootenanny’s before finding a table at Johnny Foxes.  We get a quick bite and of course more beer before deciding to call it a night.  On the way we see above the door of a bar, “Friendship is like whisky, the older the better.  Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whisky is barely enough.”  This is a perfect sentiment to describe a perfect trip to Scotland with my Best friend. 

#inverness

#scotland

#battleofculloden

#cawdorcastle

#clanchisholm

#clanmcbean

#oldhighststephenschurch