On 21 January 1998, I took St. Kevin’s Bus on a round trip to Glendalough in the Wicklow Mountains south of Dublin. For a nervous traveler out on his own the day proved inspirational, both in the beauty of the monastic ruins and their natural setting, but also because I successfully managed to get myself there and back! I also had my first real conversation since leaving the States with the museum guide who was managing the site for the day. I told him that since I worked for a museum the only time I could travel was during the off-season and we swapped stories of what it’s like during the high season when tour coaches start lining up at 9 am and never let up.
Back in Dublin, I had my first (and second) pint of Guinness of the holiday at Oliver St. John Gogarty’s pub in Temple Bar. I learned two things over my pints: 1) that Irish people smoke like factories and 2) that my sense of smell is really bad because I didn’t even notice how smoky the darkened pub was until my eyes started watering.
The pictures of Glendalough below I previously posted when I wrote about Saint Kevin who called Glendalough home.
