Suffice it to say, I did NOT kiss the Blarney stone. I did NOT even look at Waterford crystal. I did patronize as many pubs as possible and sampled brews on tap. Much fun two nites in Killarney in a beer garden with singers and singalongs. The ballads are such great stories, and the locals join in lustily‹with special fervor if the song is patriotic. Two girls, about 10, I'd say, would dance the jig, or whatever that dance is...all spontaneously...get this, along with a young man of, say, 25, who had no compulsions about being associated with 10-year-olds; he just loved to dance.

The Irish love their children; and the children still seem to have a sense of awe and innocencef I haven't seen so many strollers in a long time. Unlike France, lack of population growth does not appear to be a threat in Ireland. Another fun practice is their hen parties‹that is, dressed alike friends of a bride-to-be take her out for a night pubbing. One group wore black, slinky dresses and Playboy bunny ears; another rhinestone rimmed pink cowboy hats and pink t-shirts. Bystanders cheer.

Endearing expressions encountered: "Traffic calming" (slow-down area), "two-lane carriageway ends" (when expressway becomes one lane both ways), and pub grub. Among dishes enjoyed were Shepherd's pie, (locally) smoked salmon salad, black and white pudding and great seafood. The huge portions are daunting, and it shows on those who consume them regularly. The Irish are not thin...stout, let's say! The hard part was getting up for the Irish breakfasts at b&b's. They serve fabulous bacon, sausages and eggs, brown bread, yogurt, fruit...you name it. Since I usually don't eat much in the morning, I felt like a goose being force fed for foie gras.

Ireland is a beautiful country‹a welcome opportunity to get out into nature, be it the forests around Killarney, the cycling paths on the Arans Islands or the seaside walks we enjoyed in Skerries, north of Dublin, just before leaving. Yes, it's really GREEN. To me, it was what I call the smell of green. When there's so much of it, it ceases to be a color. It becomes a link to all things productive, fertile, cleansing, replenishing. When you smell green, it must be a primeval connection (or you¹ve been mowing the lawn!). It feels as if you and the earth are one.

The Irish are SO nice. Once the car stalled on a steep upgrade; after trying several times to get it going again, each time rolling backward nearly smashing into the car behind us, the guy in that car came to our car and gently says, ³Everything¹s all right...no problem...would you like for me to try ?² We chuckled afterward, thinking that in less laid-back places, the guy would have come up swearing, ³You idiot/sonofabitch, where did you get your driver¹s licence, Sears Roebuck?² !!