Years ago, I rode my road bike through Ireland and had the experience of a lifetime. Great stories like when the guy in the pub asked me,” Where are you from Yank?” I asked how he knew. He said, ” not many people wear shorts and running shoes around here.” We both had a chuckle(craic) over a classic Guiness pint. Or the guy who took me to his friend at the hardware store and told him to sell me a lock for my bike and not to ” give him a hooking.” We laughed at that one too and he told me he was a proud member of Alcoholics Anonymous and this was his good deed for the day. The Irish are real characters molded by their history, weather, and humor.
As I made my way west, I ended up in the Dingle Peninsula where I came across a pottery shop. I bought this bowl seen above and had it shipped to my home as I could not carry it while riding the bike. Most days, I was gone all day on the bike. Just me-self, peddling me arse all over the country. So, when the bowl arrived weeks later, I was so thrilled to get it and lo and behold( or faith and begorrah), I have had this bowl for almost 40 years. It has proudly served me soup, cereal, oatmeal, salsa, pasta, and many other meals over the years and every time I use it, I think of the Dingle Peninsula, the Ring of Kerry and the whole west coast of Ireland, which by bicycle, was absolutely spectacular.
But the amazing thing about the bowl is how well it has held up over all these years. Hours in the dishwasher, sitting on the counter, etc. Didn’t crack, break, or become useless much like it’s owner. Somehow it manages to stand the test of time and still be the bowl that I remember all those years ago. Truthfully, it has held up pretty well considering the abuse of 40 years. It is a beautiful, workable, piece of art. Everyone should have a cereal bowl like this- especially with it’s history.
Riding my road bike through Ireland was a treat. I was given a map in the morning at breakfast, and all I had to do was make it to the next stop on the tour by dinner time. The van took my bags to each town. All day, by myself, taking in the sounds, sights, and smells of Ireland. It has been a long time since I have been there, and I can’t believe that Janet and I have not been back. That hiatus will end this August when we will go to Ireland. Me, for only the second time, and Janet for the first time. I can’t wait to see the changes and some of the places where I have not been. Gratefully, Dingle is on the program. As beautiful a seaside village as you will ever see and as far west as Europe goes. In fact, there is a sign that identifies a Catholic church as the westernmost parish in Europe. Next parish- Boston, Mass. This time we will not be riding bicycles. We will be in a small van with some other folks. Hopefully I will remember some of the roads where I rode my road bike like Sleigh Head Drive? Maybe we will see the sheep with the colorful dots on their backs identifying their flock. An aside on my bike trip, I came whipping around a bend and came upon a flock of these colorfully marked sheep and slammed on my brakes. The shepherd said” it would have been a soft landin there laddie.” The Irish humor is dry and so funny. Maybe I will buy another bowl in Dingle? Maybe not? Chances are this one will outlast me. Slainte’ Thanks for reading.
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