When we arrived in Blarney, the crowds were absurd. After driving around in circles, PJ pulled out of the parkinglot and began driving to the next town. In response to my protests he replied cooly “Do you really want to spend 3 hours waiting in line to see a rock?”
Good point.
But where were we headed next? We were headed west, the sky cleared and the grass was so green so green. We were lost, of course, and I scrambled frantically for the map.
“Wait wait what town is this? We should see N 22 somewhere. Whoever designed the roads in Ireland must’ve been drunk.”
I quieted down when we pulled over a narrow stone bridge which lead us over the River Lee.
After a bit of aimless wandering on country back roads, we eventually pulled on the 22 and found a sweet town called Killarney. The town was brightly colored and for some reason was reminiscent of Lisboa for me.
“Let’s drive up the coast tomorrow.” Said PJ.
And so we did.
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