Our only business left in Donegal was to visit the Donegal Castle, which we somehow didn't notice the day previous. This is odd because the castle is directly situated next to the town centre, where we'd spent a good deal of time. Just like at the Rock of Cashel, we just missed the start of the tour, and ran to catch up. Unlike the Rock of Cashel, and of course no offense to the young lady giving the tour there, Donegal Castle's tour was hosted by perhaps the best castle tour guide ever. It's a small field, but one of greatly varied talent. As we caught up with the group, he was explaining how they'd keep their cloaks hanging just over the area where they dumped the chamber pots, as it was believed that the fumes from the urine would keep pests from taking root in the clothing. After that, we got a good explanation of how the narrow, and winding staircase was built to favor the swordsman on the high ground, rather than those invading from below. Now, other tour guides had this sort of information, but few of them presented it with such practiced enthusiasm. The man would pause dramatically quite often, and look the crown in the eyes. He was smooth alright, and full of local aphorisms and charm. Sure, if you were from there, you might roll your eyes, but despite my best attempts at ironic detachment, I could hardly help but be entranced. A little over-the-topness is what any tour group really needs, which is why I'm clearly never going to lead tours. Unfortunately, my list of possible careers keeps growing ever shorter.
The first goal we had was Roscommon, thinking we'd travel inland for a while, since we'd been on the coast for a week. So for the first time, our scenery took a downhill turn. This is not to say that it wasn't beautiful, because it certainly was. There were green hills, dotted with sheep and cows, and most ridiculously blue skies and fluffy clouds you could imagine. But let's be honest; we've seen that, and often paired next to breathtaking cliffs and an ocean. There also wasn't as much to do inland as along the coast. Sure there were more castles, but we already did one castle today, and honestly how many castles can one do in one day? Well, surely more than one, but either way, we didn't want to.We ended up in Roscommon must sooner than we thought, so it was just after noon, and we'd hit our destination for the day. But there wasn't a lot going on in Roscommon, and we didn't want to waste the day, so after an "italian" lunch, we pressed on. Oddly, it was nearing 80 degrees farenheit, and the sweaters we'd started the day wearing were becoming
too warm. I got the sense that people there weren't really used to these temperatures, since there was still a lot of wool being paired with red faces everywhere. That might be just what they look like though. We noticed the heat when taking a little walk to look at the ruins of Castle Roscommon. The temperatures made me grimace.Moving on south, we went towards Athlone, which the book described using such buzzwords as "artsy" and "youthful," which usually sound better on paper than in practice. One of the Bed and Breakfasts listed in Athlone was supposed to be the best thing to hit Ireland since St. Patrick, so we made a shot for that. Then we hit, for the first time since leaving Dublin, actual traffic. We found ourselves crawling through Athlone, which was, for some reason, completely packed. Of course, that meant that the B&B was all booked up, and the others they checked on were booked as well. Our perfect streak was starting to come to an end, and in the middle of the afternoon, both Lindsay and myself secretly wondered to ourselves if this would be the night where we finally would be forced to sleep in the car for lack of accommodation. And if that was in fact the case, where do you park a car for such things when in Ireland. The answers to these questions would elude us, but we decided that Athlone just had bad vibes, and we should move along to Ennis, which was basically the last town before our destination for the next day.
As it turns out, Ennis was kind of a shithole. We checked with the Bed and Breakfasts around town, and they were either booked, or just didn't answer the door. They say you can't really get a B&B after 5-6PM, and it was about 5:30. So we decided to eat the cost of a hotel, so we'd have somewhere to sleep. There was a main street running through the place with a couple of hotels that were well reviewed in our book, but as luck would have it, they were booked up. Weddings are truly the scourge of the improvisational vacationer. The last option was a hotel located just outside of town that was recommended as being "recently renovated" and "modern." We called the West County Hotel, and asked if they had rooms. They did (hurray!), and it would cost about twice as much as a B&B (boo!). But that wasn't a big deal, because it's fun to stay in hotels, and it wasn't going to break the bank. Then again, at this point in the trip, I think we were both starting to think about what could be accomplished with surplus vacation money on our return home, where everything doesn't cost twice as much as it should. Regardless of all that, we were pretty much out of options, so off to the Hotel it was. The book wasn't wrong that it was just out of town, but upon pulling in, we were surprised that the West County Hotel had become the Best Western West County Hotel, which we weren't expecting.
You'll remember that it was a very hot day, and our room was situated, apparently on the sun, with only a clanking pre-war desk fan to provide any solace. The room smelled of something...other, and we weren't all that happy about it. But with no other options, we decided to make the best of it, and ignore the fact that there were plumbing parts on the counter of the bathroom; a bathroom where you could either shut the door or use the toilet, but not both. Clearly it was time to get out and go back to town for some dinner.
This was about when the cracks began to show. We walked around the lanes of Ennis, which was getting sketchier and scarier as the sun went down, in a way we had yet to experience in Ireland. It was something intangible, but we both noticed it, and for some reason, neither of us felt the carefree safety we'd been used to, and the familiar city instinct of keeping our guard up returned as we looked for somewhere to eat. And when the earlier part of the day was frustrating, other things can become frustrating much faster than they should. Neither of us wanted pub food, or more faux -italian, or really anything else we walked past. There was one restaurant that was pretty nice looking, but also very expensive, and as we'd already ponied up for the expensive room, that didn't sound like a great idea, but the only other option was Supermac's, which you may remember from the Aran Islands post. We then proceeded to settle, and choke down just of bit of food, before admitting defeat, and bringing candy bars back to the hotel room. We just needed the day to be over.
Our saving grace proved to an airing of X-Factor back in the room, which is the UK version of American Idol, a show I will not watch in the US, but quite enjoyed when swapping out Americans for rural Britons. At about the point when we wanted to go to sleep, the wedding really kicked in, and perpetual thumping reverberated throughout the establishment.
I'm not sure when we went to sleep, but it was not with ease, and it was not as early as I'd hoped.
The hotel had one more surprise for us in the morning, and you'll hear more about that soon.
