A Town Called Dingle

After kissing the Blarney Stone, we once again headed for the bus stop. Ireland's public busing system is called Bus Éireann. Its mascot is a dog. I believe it is a golden retriever and each bus has one running across the length of the bus in gold with green speed lines behind it. I've been recently corrected and apparently the dog on the side is Red Setter[link]. So in essence its the Irish equivalent of our greyhound. The bus traveled back to Cork, from Cork to Tarlee, and Tarlee to Dingle. Each time we barely made the bus departure times. All the buses were about to depart when we waved them down.

A funny thing happened at the Tralee bus station. An older bloke, thats the British equivalent for dude, dropped a bottle of vodka in the lobby area of the station. I had observed him earlier hitting on the information desk person after inquiring about the bus arrival time for Dingle. Immediately after the bottle broke, spilling vodka all over the lobby and as the other people sitting in the area started to move their belongings away from the flood, he, instead of telling someone, wandered out of the building. It was apparent after then that he was intoxicated. About 5minutes later the unmarked Dingle bus appeared and since it was unmarked we were still sitting there waiting. The lobby attendant approached the bus and when the old bloke tried to board he was denied. As the bus started to pull always it occurred to me that he was also on his way to Dingle. So I ran out there to wave the bus driver to stop. Luckily we barely made yet another bus transfer.

Dingle is a small coastal town. I would almost venture to call it a village. You can probably walk the whole town within 30-45minutes. The town is surrounded by farmland. All local children use the bus system to get to and from school in the larger town of Tralee; There were several students on our bus to Dingle. When you first enter into the outskirts of Dingle you see bright green fields, livestock (mostly sheep), and the general stereotypical scenery when you think of Ireland. The coastline is beautiful. With a powerful wind, clouds glide swiftly and the sky is ever changing. After arriving in Dingle all the hostels were again booked and we ended up staying a Bed and Breakfast. It was a bit bigger hit on the wallet but much more comfortable. We didn't have much energy to do too much in Dingle as it was already late when we arrived.

The next morning we walked around town waiting for stores to open. Since it was a Sunday more stores were closed till after 12. We shopped around and I bought a beanie hat since it is quite chill and windy at times here on the coast. Around noon, we found the Grape Vine Hostel which had vacancies for the night. We quickly booked our room, bought lunch, and rented bicycles to explore the Dingle Peninsula.

Head west from Dingle and you will reach Dingle Bay, makes sense right? Rocky cliffs that transform into rolling hills that climb up to become steep mountains is the landscape here. The land is divided into rectangular fields by hip high cobble stone walls and brush. Little white dots appear in each bright green rectangle and become sheep as we ride closer. The larger dots become several lambs feeding on their mother's milk. As we ride along the narrow road that sweeps along the coast line the cobble stone wall to our left dances along the edge of the cliff. I guess the farmers here want every bit of land possible. The road we take gradually elevates and drops and as we climb up one hill, we are rewarded with a brisk ride down before tackling another climb.




We returned our bikes later that evening. I stayed in that night to get some rest. Tomorrow we will journey back to Tralee and try to make it to Galway, which looks like Gal-way, but is actually pronounced Gul-way.