Ireland, Day Six--Slambpede and Bunratty Castle

Day Six.  Just two days from leaving Ireland, and the day we left Kilcoobin and the Morans.  I'm not going to lie--I was feeling pretty darn sad.  We and the Morans had developed quite a rhythm for life--wake up late, head out and see some cool things, find somewhere to eat, do some grocery shopping, come home, relax a bit before dinner, make dinner, play games.  Who wouldn't want to live that life, I ask you?

During the night, a fuse had gone out, and none of the outlets were functioning.  Thankfully, Jared figured it out, and we were up and running again in the morning (FYI fuses in Ireland are NOT the same as fuses in the US).  Jared took Sarah to a tea room in Bushmills called "The Copper Kettle" where we hear Jared got a plate of "Yankee Pankees" :-)  We got everything packed, took one last picture, gave hugs all around and headed our separate ways.  I was feeling very sentimental about the fact that we had had another chance to be together in Ireland.  Last time, we had just as lovely as a time although we visited completely different places.  In fact, Sarah posted this picture from way-back-when--we had "visited" the Skellig Islands, and were told to "put your bloody trousers on".  It's its own blog post, but I must insert this awesome picture from the end of it all:

Ethan, me, Jared and Sarah...with our bloody trousers.

It soothed my soul to realize that the Morans are moving this summer to the DC area and will be within easy visiting distance.

I've already posted this picture, but I'll post it again.  Sarah had her cute boot socks on, and I had given up trying to straighten my hair in Ireland.  The Morans were very patient with me as I kept asking more and more from them so that the picture would look just right:

As we were driving out of Bushmills, Johannah looked longingly out the window and sadly reminded us that she hadn't gotten to hold a lamb--it was her one wish from rural Ireland.

Let me tell you about Hannie and her wishes.  If her father knows that she wants anything, he will kill himself to make it happen.  This doesn't happen with the boys...or with Glo.  Just Johannah....and maybe me occasionally ;-)

I'm not sure that we had even left Bushmills proper when John spotted yet another field with sheep and lambs in it.  Thankfully (and this will come into play later), he went up to the adjoining house, found someone home, and asked if we could head into the field to catch a lamb.

John is amazing.  People just love him.  He no sooner began talking to this older Irish woman, and dropped his very Irish/American name, than he had permission to try and catch a lamb--she told us that the farmer who leases the land wouldn't mind.  The only stipulation the woman put on the request was that we didn't hold the lamb for very long because it stresses out the mother.

If you've lived on a farm, or had anything to do with animals, you will appreciate that catching a lamb is easier said than done.  Those little squirts are hooved, which means they are made to defend themselves from predators by running!  And run they do!

John pulled around, opened the gate, and the lamb hunt began.  Of course, the grass looked lush and green from the road, but believe me, it held all kinds of surprises ;-)

The first shot.  We thought, "Oh, this family is all alone.  They will surely just STAND there for us to catch one."  Right.

For the first time in my life, I appreciate why God created herding dogs.  What I wouldn't have GIVEN to have had one of our dogs there, cutting off the sheep and lambs from running away from us.  Hannah was determined though, despite the slambpede of sheep and lambs (get it?  slambpede?) to catch one of those babies.  Here's the beginning of the lamb hunt (click here).

Glo was busy taking pictures too.  It was quite amazing, seeing how the lambs huddled around their mothers and just ran with them.

I wasn't much help, trying to catch them, because I was too busy laughing and taking pictures of the whole thing.  Thankfully, the field was a bit smaller than most, and we only ended up running the length of it a couple of times.  In the end though, humanity proved that it is a wee bit smarter than animal kind, as John and Hannah trapped a bunch of the sheep in a bramble wood at the back of the property and caught one of the lambs.  Not one of the cute, white, tiny lambs, but a big black boy!

Thankfully, Glo had the camera and snapped this crazy shot!

Hannie quickly put him down.  It was amazing to see that his mother had stopped in the slambpede, despite still having two of her other lambs with her.  She knew her third one was gone, and she was calling for it.  He was calling back, and once the two were reunited, all was quiet on the Irish front again.

We began walking back across the field to the car, trying to catch up with John who was already at the gate.  We were out of breath, and Hannie was reliving the glory of the moment.  Suddenly, John
began yelling across the field that we needed to HURRY!  We looked over the hedge and saw a POLICE CAR!  Yep, some protective Irish person had called the police on us, and I can't blame them, owning animals myself.

Thankfully (and here's where it comes into play), John had asked permission.  In fact, as the policeman pulled up, and John began telling his story of asking the woman in the farmhouse for permission, the policeman told him that he'd already checked and he knew it was okay.  John admits now that he was so thankful that he had asked--most times (and all of us will verify this) he'll say to us, "Guys, it's fine.  Nobody will care," and we pay the price later.  I'm sure there's some kind of sacrament meeting talk in that somewhere ;-)

I just caught this photo of the policeman driving away.

Just another Kennedy adventure, right family?

Unfortunately, we had about a five-hour drive over to the western edge of Ireland in County Clare.  We were scheduled to attend the Bunratty Medieval Dinner that night, and traffic can be a bit nightmarish around Dublin.  So, we scooted off.

About three hours later, we discovered that we were rather hungry, but we didn't really want to stop because of the time issue.  I hate to admit it, but I searched "Fast Food" on our Garmin and found a McDonald's on the way (in the village of Naase).  As it happened, it couldn't have turned out better, because we found the most lovely tea shop right across the street from where we parked.  

It felt a bit like a mad house in the area, because all of the school children had just been dismissed from school, and the school must have been rather close because not only was the area flooded with uniformed kids, but their mothers were there too.  Don't think that my girls didn't think that attending Irish schools would be far nicer than American ones.  Seriously, the kids looked like they had just stepped out of a scene from Hogwart's, seeing as the children from different schools were wearing different colored uniforms.

We sat at the teeniest table in our tea shop and ate some of the most delicious lunch food I've ever had.  Hmmmm, it was so good.

We continued our journey with the girls fast asleep in the back of the car, and John and I wanting to be fast asleep in the front of the car.  John had been struggling with jet lag and a bad cold the entire trip, but getting up earlier than 10 a.m. that morning was taking its toll on the girls and me.  However, I stayed awake to help John stay awake and we eventually reached Bunratty.

Only bad decision made for this entire trip:  The Bunratty Manor.  Ugh.  On the website, it had only the best reviews, but I'm telling you, I think the owners just delete the authentic, bad reviews.  The place was quaint looking on the outside, and extremely convenient for tourists, but the accommodations were awful.  I had thought it would be a good chance for us to experience an authentic Irish inn (instead of us Americanizing our Irish cottage as much as possible), but I can't imagine any Irish person would stay here either.  For John and me, it always comes down to the mattress, and I'm not sure either of us slept for the two nights we were there--too short, too lumpy and  all around too miserable.

Bunratty Castle

However, we just dropped our stuff and headed off to the medieval dinner.  Back in 2003, we had attended this dinner with the Morans, and this was the second of two places John wanted to revisit (hence us leaving Northern Ireland early and driving across the country in a day).

It was the same as before and just as tasty and fun.  It's a night of wonderful Irish music (including harp and fiddle), tasty Irish food, eaten only with our fingers, and a bit of Irish theater involving the audience.  In fact, one of our favorite stories to tell of our time in Europe happened here.

Back in 2003, John had been chosen by the actors to be the "criminal" of the evening, the one who was thrown into the dungeon.  He was dragged from his seat and tossed through the dungeon door.  The actors had told him to scream with agony on a certain cue.  So, when the cue was said (with the entire audience quiet and listening), John yelled.

Glo was three years old at the time, and she had watched all of this transpire with quite a bit of anxiety.  Seeing Daddy thrown in the dungeon was a bit traumatic for her baby mind.  However, when she heard Daddy scream in agony?  It was too much, and almost on cue also, she busted out crying.

We couldn't have timed it better, because the entire room heard and saw her, and busted out laughing!

I remember trying to soothe her while laughing myself.  It was just perfect.  So, when the main lead came up to talk to us (it's always fun to drop the Kennedy name), John mentioned how much he loved the place and recounted the whole story with Glo.  I didn't think much of it....until the "criminal" was chosen once again.

Yep, you guessed it.  John.

Being thrown into the dungeon.

This should have been no surprise at all, because in all honesty, John is ALWAYS chosen for things like this.  The stunt car show at Disney, the radio interview for the Salt Lake City marathon.  I'm quite sure it's because he's just so stinkin' tall ;-)

To be released from prison, John was required to sing something.  Don't think we weren't a little bit worried--it could have been anything from "I Am A Child of God" to a song by Rush.  However, John was a total winner in what he chose: (click here)

We actually remembered our waitress, Moira, from ten years ago!  Sadly, she didn't remember us ;-)

The pictures are all pink because of the lighting.

Too bad the euphoria of being at the dinner couldn't outweigh the upcoming misery of our mattress!  Either way, we were glad to have a chance to close our eyes.