We are back from the great Ireland vacation safe and what passes for sound among us lunatics. What a beautiful and welcoming land. It’s dedicated to wonderful music, beer, and endless scenes of great beauty they have the luxury of just taking for granted. Their second tier consists of literature and sports (rugby, soccer, and hurling). We were sad to say goodbye. Just stay off the roads.
Two six-hour flights meant I watched the Sarah Silverman special 2.75 times. You might like this part:
I was doing a show in Hawaii and staying at the Four Seasons. I went down for a swim and saw that they had a sign — a professionally made sign — that said: “If you have diarrhea, or have had diarrhea within the last two weeks, you are not allowed in the pool.”
Why not just come out and say it: No Jews allowed.
What Jew could possibly go two weeks without even a little diarrhea? Kim (a Jewish woman she had chatted with earlier) – I’m asking you as a Jew — have you ever gone two weeks without diarrhea? That would be viewed as a miracle. What was the miracle of Hanukkah? — a lamp worked. A lamp worked for longer than it was supposed to. This would blow that right out of the water. “She only had enough Immodium A-D to last for two nights — but it worked for 14 nights!!” — You may enter the pool. Dayenu!
We very much enjoyed all of our meals. Hotel breakfasts were part of our deal and they were very good. Not as good as Israel’s, but good. One of the options in Galway was “grilled fish.” The day I ordered it, it was cod, and it was perfectly prepared. Omelets were excellent, with greens and their wonderful Irish cheeses. Smoked salmon is plentiful — it’s the point at which Jews and the Irish intersect, though we call it lox. Coffee in Ireland is very good. No need for Starbucks, which we only saw in Dublin.
I brought a nice chunk of Irish Cheddar back as a gift for Daughter #1. I loved that we bought it from a “cheesemonger” in Dublin. I put it in my carry-on bag thinking it shouldn’t represent a security risk. It’s been pretty well-established that terrorists don’t even like cheese, amirite? But I was wrong! My bag was targeted and pulled aside for closer inspection. The agent took out the cheese (the cheesemonger had vacuum-sealed it for me), and took it over to some special high-tech thingie for analysis. I waited nervously. He came back and gave me a thumbs up. Whew! I just better remember to tell Caity to be careful when she slices it — I slipped a razor blade into the center.
Speaking of food, the single best thing I ate all week was a sandwich at a little bakery, coffee, and sandwich place right next to where we dropped off the rental car in Dublin. We were exhausted and starving, since we had to leave Killarney around 7 to get the car back in time to avoid an extra day’s charge. So we missed breakfast and it was around 12:30 when we were done. We sat down to rest in a little enclosed bench area and two young Irish women came in with sandwiches and hot drinks from the little bakery. I asked one if it was a good place and she pointed at her sandwich and said, “This is amazing.”
That was good enough for me. It was a tiny bakery that just sold breads, coffee, and a selection of five or six sandwiches. The coffee was excellent and the sandwiches out of this fuc*ing world. I had the Chicken Caesar. The roll it was on was perhaps the best roll I’ve ever had. The only negative was that for about 45 minutes I had no choice but to exclaim Hail Chicken Caesar! at regular intervals. It made no sense from so many angles — Caesar was a brave man, for one thing. But there was no stopping me. Great sandwich, though. How great? — Ate two. [No, I didn’t, but I had to get my et tu joke in.]
You can’t walk three blocks in downtown Dublin without running into somebody playing music, often very well. They are called buskers and they are busking, hoping you’ll drop some coins into their hat or guitar case. These two, below, were the best we heard: guitar and banjo. The guitarist said he had to wake his girlfriend up at 7 that morning so they could go and pick up a car battery so he could go busking. And I noticed his guitar, mic, and amp were hooked up to a car battery for power.
More nonsense tomorrow. Thanks for popping in.
The Wellington Files 