The Cliffs of Insanity!!

Warning!! If you are allergic to quaint thatched roof cottages please stop reading now!  The below post will be hazardous to your health and could possibly even cause death...consider yourselves warned!

I was so excited to wake up and head to the Cliff of Mohr!  I was also delighted to spend that day going with Olive and Martha.  Olive is Irish and lives in Athlone.  Her husband, Paddy, owns the Dojo sponsoring the camp.  Such lovely people - so very welcoming and kind!   Being with Olive was the first time I was able to spend some real relaxed downtime with an Irish lady.  This is what I learned:

In Ireland you can:



Olive Beaumont - my lovely guide



*use lots more words to make your point.

*cross yourself everytime you pass an Irish Catholic Church (I kid you not and there are many! - I loved it)

*Irish Gaelic and Scottish Gaelic aren't as similar as one might think.

*feel free to constantly correct yourself on the number of counties in Ireland...It's a little tricky with those extra 6 counties in No. Ireland mucking up the count.

*say "toilets" without blushing

This was taken on a hill looking down.  The rock walls
denote the serpentine road.  We stopped so I could get my
stomach back together!



Martha is American and came with Bill Hayes.  She was such great fun.  I was in the back of Olive's car, driving to the West Coast on roads that were so twisty I was seriously looking for a vomit bag.  But we stopped often and took tons of pictures of the famous thatched west coast cottages.  Getting air helped.  Some of these are new construction houses, some are old, but all are lovely.

At the Cliffs it was quite windy but that was fine. The cliffs themselves took my breath away - the wind seemed to give it right back.  "Aaassss you wiiiisssshhhhhhhhh"  (That line might seem out of place for those of you who haven't seen "The Princess Bride".  It is a great film - if you are in the mood to laugh.)



If you look closely you can see a path around the top and a few people.  The scale is massive!





Some Posh English attending the camp.  Steve, to the far
left, was the one that unfortunately for him called
me a Yankee.



When we arrived back in Portumna it was dinner time.  I really tried my best during our visit to not embarrass my dad.  Unfortunately, I think embarrassing moments tend to seek me out but I did try...However, the fact of the matter was that every night I would cruise in from a day of hiking, driving and site-seeing wearing unwashed jeans and a t-shirt with my hair blown every which way by that awesome Irish wind.  I looked  a little bit crazy but usually dinner was starting in the fancy restaurant at the hotel right when I would arrive.  Dad would save me a spot so in I would go trying not to notice the ladies with their make-up and sequins.  Each night our table was only about 10 or so of the sensei and their companions.  I'd like to think since they understood the nature of my trip that they forgave me my appearance.  The last night of camp was different, though. The previous dinners were small - about 10 people - the last night was in a ballroom with about 300 people dressed in formal attire (see picture) who didn't know who in the world I was.  My thought was to pop in and let dad know I had arrived safely from Dublin and then head to the pub for something small to eat.  But the very wickedly charming Paddy Beaumont, head of the camp, saw me and led me to the front of the room and gave me his seat next to his wife, Olive - FACING everyone.  It was like a panel of judges facing about 300 lovely people.  Nowhere to hide.  Remember, me:  jeans,t-shirt, baseball cap. Basically looking like a homeless person they had drug off the street.  Mortifying! - if only I could have borrowed a sequin or two I might have had a chance of blending - but no - no sequins, no mascara (at least none left on my eyes - there was plenty smeared under!)  Also, everyone had finished eating but a plate was found for me so there I was sitting at the front of the room chomping away at my food in my dirty clothes.  I begged to be sat in the back but I was facing the full force of Paddy's Irish charm and lost.  Awesome.  I am not sure I can convey in words the beautiful insanity of the moment.  By the end of the evening not only was I eating alone in front of everyone looking like a hobo but I had the spotlight while a gift was presented to me by the dear, sweet Irish and my Dad made a speech and expressed his joy in our trip together.   For a few minutes I didn't care a bit what I was wearing, I was just happy and grateful to be alive in that moment.