The Green and Red of Mayo

We drove to the cliffs of Achill island yesterday for some sight seeing. Lots of sheep along the way. Lots of bog lands. Lots of wind and a little sun. The landscape is just spectacular out here, especially from the top of the cliffs. I'm sure Steve or someone will follow up with some pictures. Like an idiot I got myself to a pub with internet but I forgot my camera so I can't upload any.

There were some crazy bastards surfing in the ocean when we got to the island. We stood there on the shore bundled up in our arctic gear gawking at them and scratching our heads for a while before moving on. We also found a coffee shop that served some great espresso which really hit the spot for me.

Everywhere we go I have the Saw Doctors Song with the title of this entry ringing in my head on an endless loop. We keep seeing all the stuff in the lyrics. We also came across a Red Rose Cafe. . . . that was kind of a trip. Everywhere we go I can smell the turf burning in people's fireplaces. It's a rather unique smell. I had no idea that they dug up their bogs, dried out the muck and then burned it like firewood. Of course there aren't many trees around here so I suppose it comes as no surprise.

The crew all went to a pub last night to jam with the locals. I was tired, a little under the weather and I needed to babysit my video battery charger because it is acting flaky so I stayed behind and got some rest. Who needs a drummer with nothing but beer glasses to beat on during an Irish session anyway? No good can come of it...

Today some of us are taking it easy and others are out sight seeing in various places. Steve and Patricia left me to surf the web in this pub while they are out looking at some monument or something. Meanwhile I am babysitting his laptop as it downloads episodes of Family Guy. The espresso is good here too. Not very Irish of me. . . but what the heck. . . I'm an elitist. I need my espressos and cappuccinos or I start acting like Joe The Plumber.. . .

Good fun all in all. Till next time. . .

Roy