Ireland

I am from yesterday in County Clare (more precisely in Doolin) and here the 3G signal is not present.

Account of resuming the publication of pictures and post tomorrow once they get Connemara.

The french toast breakfast with Lorraine color a day that there is rather gray and full of rain. From the windows of the dining room has magnificent views of crazy on all the hills of Doolin, the Cliffs and the Arann Islands.

We put ourselves en route to Connemara not before being passed by Clare Jam Company, or jam where paradise is easy to give in to all sorts of temptation surrounded by dozens of different kinds of jam or marmelade. The owner and vendtore seems to come directly from the past: a few words with an accent almost incomprehensible. I left the store with 8Kg jams and no idea how to bring them to Italy. And 'the fun of being on vacation ... or not?

I drive through the moonscape of the Burren following the old road that leads from Ennis to Galway. Today, the day seems really determined to reach the Connemara ugly when a sparse but constant drizzle accompanies us to our destination along the Sky Road. We stop for lunch at the old Clifden railway station where the delicious goodness of sadwiches is ruined by the annoying noise of a company maleducatissimi Italians who manage to obscure the captivating charm of a place from another era. Italy is far as we feel these people. Sin.

After a brief stop in Roundstone where we decide to go the stage and forced 'the Craft Village where we kidnapped by the extraordinary beauty of jewels, and musical instruments porcellene types of Irish tradition.

We return to Clifden and prepare for dinner at Ban Pangur near Letterfrack. Tomorrow is our last whole day in Ireland. Tuesday traveling to Dublin where the magic begins and ends, where I leave a part of me every time I come home to find her safe but during my next trip.

We wake early and eat pancakes favolsi of wild honey on the veranda of the b & b that hosts us. The view over the bay of Dingle is wonderful and the spell is broken only occasionally by rain pelting the roof. The goal now is the magic Doolin in County Clare, a tiny fishing village that owes its fame to a musical tradition that is lost to the origins of Irish folk.

We decide to skip the usual Limerick and take the ferry to Tarbert on the Shannon. From Dingle we head over Connor Pass and pause on the banks of the ocean in a beautiful white sand beach. The wind is cold and the clouds promise rain. We are preparing to arrive in Doolin tradzionale blanket of fog and humidity.

The short trip aboard the ferry across the Shannon is always nice to challenge the long cold standing on the bridge that runs along side the boat. We cross the mouth of the largest river of reland and landed in Clare where we can expect a heavy rain. I drive to Doolin and amazement the day turns into minutes and when we view the beautiful hills that descend to the village a warm sun is high in the sky of Ireland.

An obligatory stop at Magnetic Music Cafe, where a hot cup of zero and a slice of cake with plenty of cream in the world loses. This place is really special, imbued with a mystical atmosphere and gathering where music is the main element. A quick tour of the negozzietti and head to the very principal.

From here you decide rilsalire the coast to the cliffs. The spectacle of the rock is magnificent if it seems to tread on the form of a giant Swiss cheese. The afternoon is perfect after a long walk we reach the base of the Cliffs, which boasts an unbelievable sight. I sit perched among the rocks in layers. I like to think that way that it feels like a gull in these parts. I would also take the flight, and I see this from Ireland. I'll be back with your feet and mind on the floor and slowly return to the path of many losses through the fields bordering the beach.

Let's go back to bed & breakfasts to rest a little before we dive into the atmosphere of the village at night.

We leave Doolin met and as always a little melancholy but confident that we will be back soon. Travel over the Burren to Galway to Clifden and we immediately Drigo. The distance is now less than usual and so we give ourselves a generous stop at Joann's Gift Shop. The store boasts a selection of the best of Irish crafts and knitwear. Continue the journey to Clifden in search of B & B that will host the next three days which is right on famossima Sky Road. Reach the ' Ardmore House in advance and after a short siesta we explore the Sky Road on foot.

The Connemara is a mixture of mountains, lakes, vegetation, bare lands, white beaches, rugged cliffs ... all dressed the almost total absence of human life which I personally find perfect.

The day seems to turn for the better (though the rain has completely saved us today). Tonight we expect the lively nightlife of Clifden with its pubs clean, the smell of peat and the people who poured through the streets with cups in hand and a lot of fun.

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Let Dingle Tarbert and head towards where we hope to take the ferry that will take us across the Shannon to Kilrush and saving us the time and the miles necessary to drive along the Bay of Limerick.

The day has the side typical time Irish fog, light rain now now stronger, wind and some sun Spizzico. We climb the ferry, hoping to spot some dolphins along the way on the Shannon but have no luck.

Doolin reach as ever happened in all my travels, or wrapped in mist and rain. Doolin would not otherwise.

A lunch and a pint by O'Connors and today we must visit the Magnetic Music Cafe: a truly unique place that houses both a music store (almost all traditional doc) and a cafe where you can sample the delicious homemade cakes . I can not say what has this place so special but I assure you that once sat at one of the tables will be really difficult to decide to go out again.

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