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Ennis
and Killarney
Ennis is where I said
good-bye to my English, French and Canadian friends, and Killarney is
where I traveled to once I was on my own again. Both towns are
friendly, tidy and quaint.
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One of the parks in Ennis.
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Judith, trail mate and pub
buddy, and
no where near Ennis.
This is a substitute
photo; taken on Inishmore
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A street performer in
Killarney.
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Main street, Killarney.
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So that's why the
Guinness tastes so good over here. We need these guys in America!
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O'Connor's Pub,
Killarney. My last eveing in Ireland: a song, a dance, a
pint. Good night, it's been an amazing trip!
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Journal
Excerpt: 28
August, 8:12 AM –
Leaving
Ireland
. . . I saw some musicians arrive—a
grizzled old woman with a banjo and a guitar and an equally grizzled old
man with an accordion. They
played well, however, and the crowd (and it was quite a crowd for such a
tiny pub) really got into it. They
played authentic Irish songs and when they did a song I knew from dance
class I got up and did a Reel.
I was
amazed at how much a few pints of Guinness and two weeks without
practice took the edge off my steps.
It was not a stellar performance but the crowd still loved it.
One of the bar maids who had been there the
night before recognized me and asked if I would sing a song, so I did.
The crowd really liked that and I returned to my seat satisfied
that my trip to Ireland was, at last, complete.
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