Another long, detailed and, of course, nostalgically perfect blog post has been consumed by the devil inside this WordPress App.

Le sigh

That’s two….

Suffice it to say I wrote something thought provoking and interminably witty about our travels today, as well as my deep reflections of both the culture and my emotional ties to certain parts of Ireland. I would recreate it if I could, but since that is impossible, allow me to Readers’ Digest the hell out of it…

We stopped in Killarney for lunch, but didn’t have time to get a feel for the place. We did get offered numerous horse and trap rides, but we as a group are pretty much horsed-out. Nothing could compare to the vistas on Inis Mor where we took our first carriage ride. Plus our bodies might rebel against any equestrian endeavor at the moment.

Horseback riding yesterday has left parts of me sore I didn’t know I owned. Be aware when traveling to Ireland that they use Irish (= English) saddles. You will find a definite and unfortunate difference between the two should you, like me, be accustomed to a Western saddle. On the other hand, you could say it’s like two hours with a thigh master, but more fun. Unless you account for the perched position creating unnecessarily harsh angles for your other bits. Ahem. I have bleeding blisters from my riding boots. Should have thrown caution to the wind and worn my Nike Mary Janes. If they can handle the hike to Dun Angohasa, they could have done just fine on the ride.

In another part of my epic post, I waxed philosophic about the cultural and personal experiences I have had with Ireland, trying to find my “home”, my “people”, my “tribe”…

I assure you it is not in Cork. And certainly not found at the Cork International Hovel Hostel.

Enough complaining! Time to get some sleep…

I’ll be paying for wifi tomorrow to post this.