OUR chairs glided to the table, the fine linen napkins fluttered across our laps; candlelight magically performed in the glasses and played on the tableware. Glamor and elegance were the standard, nostrils quivered as aromas of promise filled the air. Welcome to Ireland! Leprechauns and Celtic sites, St Patrick and four leaf clovers and the Blarney Stone are all trademarks of the “The Emerald Isle”. But what about the wild coastline, patchwork pastures and farm-fresh produce? Ireland's geography looks like a notebook but its history and culture reads like “Encyclopaedia Britannica”. Food and sightseeing was our chapter of choice. Recounting the day's sights while relaxing in the County of Kilkenny, dinner arrived. Conversation did resume after a lot of wows! Grass dominated the conversation; so green it looked dyed with undiluted oil paints, fertile, thick and green reminiscent of natural emeralds. The main courses were all local, reared with love and fresh air. The topic of grass came up again; it really is abundant and vivid, carpet-thick and luxuriant. Dessert was a chocolate trio which boldly stated a country of comfort and wellbeing with a traditional yet contemporary culture and warm people. We surrendered to the food and gave up on the grass. Sunsets marked the end of each day's journey. County Cork and dinner at a pub in Kinsale by the sea, actually it is an inlet. The merriment of Irish pub music lifts you with its rhythm and brings on a state of cheerfulness. Before you are aware your foot is tapping and your hands are clapping; your voice says “More!! More!!”. A traditional dinner of Irish stew and potatoes welcomed you to the Club of Ireland. Being chatty folk, interest overcame shyness. Where are your from? Where are you going? Where have you been? My cousin Patrick lives in Australia, do you know him? The Ring of Kerry rated many a mention. No, we did not kiss the Blarney Stone and Tipperary will have to be another time. References to the weather and rainfall were a constant topic; any wonder the grass is so green. Over to the Gulf Stream, next stop Beara Peninsula in County Cork with heather filled inlets and a wind-lashed wilderness. Gone were the patchwork fields replaced by craggy outcrops, raw and rocky, grey and ash in colour. Jagged, they jutted into the sea, like bony fingers seeking a hold. Mountain tops shrouded in cottonwool veneer, lonely houses at their base with stone fences surrounding tufted grasses conveying tenure. Ivory color lichen on the rocky seashore toned with the arctic blue of the sea. The foreshore traversed along narrow roads, hedged and single laned; grazing sheep wandered freely, not the least bit curious of the traveller. Archaeological treasures abounded; historic gravesites, ruined fortresses and megalithic tombs aligned to the natural contours of the landscape dating back 4,000 years young in a country with 9,000 years of history. Another dusk with the sun slipping into the netherland against the grey rain misted skies of Kenmare in County Kerry. Its tough work being a tourist. Dinner was always a highlight: oysters, just hours old collected from their beds in the regional bays, mussels, losing count at 60, lightly poached, their juices soaked up with warm soda bread, a local staple made from a recipe unchanged since time began. Conversations were now of castles, rock top strongholds, battlements, monastic sites, and fairytale abbeys by bubbling brooks. Castles furnished with original heirlooms complete with resident ghosts, spooky reminders of centurylong waring. Some castles are in town centres, constant beacons of medieval folklore in your own backyard. Not only are there ancient sites, there are over 400 golf courses in Ireland, but with the precipitation it may take a few years to play them all if you are a fair weather golfer. Unexpected was the number of magnificent white sand beaches which lay in wait to entice you. You can even surf, BYO wetsuit though. The pealing of a bell heralded dinner in the shadow of a ruined castle, Aran View Hotel a stately Georgian house built in 1763 in County Clare near the village of Doolin. Chatting about the day's adventure serenaded by waves crashing, a golden disc sunk beyond the windswept Cliffs of Moher. Silvery limestone karst ledges, pavements of the treeless Burren alive with wild flowers leaping from the fractured crevices with the Aran Islands offshore in the Atlantic Ocean. These sights set the mood for dinner: seafood fresh from the ocean, caught by crusty old fishermen and local cheeses like Tipperary, Cashel blue, Ardrahan, Durrus and Gubbeen from Cork, all of which feature in Europe's top restaurants. Food as varied as the countryside's canvas. Breakfasts were also a treat. Imagine hot and warming porridge; the smell and taste were heavenly, although black pudding was not for us. TWILIGHT again with the soft pink of sunset heralding dinner in the village of Cashel, region of Connemara, County Galway. Cashel House, set in 50 acres is a stately home with a secret garden scented with aromatic herbs. Add a glass atrium, soft lights and four courses, sprinkled with sap fresh herbs and spices; it was a joy. One of the pleasures of traveling is to revisit the day's memories; as we dined we reminisced. It was the season of growth journeying north, edges of the road became carpets of color with yellow daisies, orange bells, purple feather duster shaped buds and blackberries, ripe, sweet, plump and vivid black; all sparkling in the sun fresh with light rain drops. Picking wild blackberries was childhood revisited, greedily wiping juice from our chins. There are many ways to travel in Ireland: car, camper van, motorbike, bicycle, barge, boat, walking or even a horse-drawn gypsy caravan for those with a free spirit and no timetable. Miles of walking tracks, sometimes called Green roads, are often old highways. Many unpaved roads were built during the Great Famine of 1840s as part of the relief work; others date back thousands of years. Across Connemara there is a track the residents fear to travel after dark called “The Bog Road”. Local lore says it is haunted; we traveled along it but didn't see a soul or should that be a spirit. The village of Leenane was our next dinner destination; past eerily desolate landscapes, rusty bogs, lonely black lakes and pale grey mountains, far from the madding crowds. Delphi Lodge previously owned by the Marquis of Sligo is a fishing lodge, where dinner was served in the style of the late 1800's; a table set for 22 looked like a pop -up card for a boisterous medieval feast. A cheerful occasion with all the laughter and fun of banqueting with new friends, complete with five dogs weaving in and under the table. Conversation turned to the unspoiled location of the vine-covered lodge, actually a restored stately home that began life in the late 1830's. Like a Shangri-La, it is sheltered at the base of a large hill in a little known valley, complete with salmon stream and hatchery and a “lough” at the front door. The still of night mirrored hundreds of stars twinkling like overhead lanterns. Our last dinner was in Dublin, a vibrant town, exciting and busy, offering all manner of interests: arts, culture, food, song and dance in a cityscape location. As we placed our napkins on the table and pushed our chairs back with a big sigh and a full belly, we can honestly say whether its dinner, bed and breakfast or the getting to any and all of the above, Ireland is a thoroughly enjoyable destination, but keep your eye out for Leprechauns bearing gifts of four leafed clovers. Now where do I pay the bill?
