We departed Dublin in a heavy rain with a cabbie who ended up being a jerk. He dropped us, in the rain, at the wrong place, knowingly.
Kelli then drove us to Newgrange, the premier Neolithic site sitting along the beautifully pastoral River Boyne. Green fields, cows, and sheep! When we arrived the mist was hanging low over the river and pastures, but soon the sun came out and the skies were a most brilliant blue by the time we arrived at the tomb for our tour.
The building is 5,000 years old. And the roof has never leaked. Despite the large size of the exterior, inside is quite small. A long passage to a small chamber with three smaller chambers attached. Geometrical carvings, particularly the swirl, decorate some of the interior rocks.
We drove on to the Hill of Tara. The GPS seemed to prefer sheep paths to highways in getting us there--brave Kelli. Tara, legendary seat of the High Kings, is a chilly, wind-swept rise from which you can see far in every direction. At the phallic stone in the center we watched a woman trying to have a "spiritual" experience as she rubbed against the stone.
At both Newgrange and Tara the sky will filled with cawing crows. Ominous. I felt like I was in a Game of Thrones episode and something awful was about to happen to me. In Dublin there had been gulls everywhere.
A enjoyed a lovely lunch at the café at the base of the hill, recommended to us earlier in the morning by a local. At the table next to us sat a host of elderly characters seemingly from a British television series, generating our entertainment.
Then more driving along narrow roads--brave, brave Kelli--to the main highway where I fulfilled my lifelong non-desire of driving on the wrong side of the road. When I asked for prayer that I not kill us all, Mom and Kelli were not comforted. I drove across Ireland in a few hours.
That night we spent in Kinevara where we dined at a castle with entertainment of song and poetry.