Ireland

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

Take account of the post and the publication of pictures tomorrow after reaching the Connemara.

The breakfast with French toast Lorraine color a day that there is rather gray and full of rain. From the windows of the dining room there is a view of all the crazy hills of Doolin, the Cliffs and islands Arann.

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

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

After a short break we decided to go where the obligatory stop at Roundstone, and 'the Craft Village where we are enraptured by the extraordinary beauty of the jewelry, and musical instruments of porcellene types of Irish tradition.

We return to Clifden and we 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 safe, however, to find it during my next trip.

We wake up early and eat pancakes favolsi of wild honey in the veranda of the b & b that hosts us. The view over the bay of Dingle is wonderful and the spell is broken only by the rain that pours on the roof at times. 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 the Connor Pass and we stop on the shores 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 that crosses the Shannon is always nice to challenge the long standing cold over the bridge that runs along the sides of the boat. We cross the mouth of the largest river of reland and disembark in Clare, where we will have a heavy rain. I drive to Doolin and amazement the day turns into a few minutes and when we are in sight of the beautiful hills that descend to the village a warm sun is high in the sky of Ireland.

A compulsory stop at the Magnetic Music Café where a cup of boiling water and a free slice of cake with rich cream brings us back to the world. This place is really special, steeped in a mystical atmosphere and gathering where music is the main element. A quick tour of the negozzietti and head for the main lot.

From here you decide rilsalire the coast to the cliffs. The spectacle of rock's great if you feel like walking over a giant form of Swiss cheese. The afternoon was perfect and after a long walk we reach the base of the Cliffs from which there is a view indescribable. I sit perched among the rocks in layers. I like to think so that you hear a seagull here. I would take the flight and I also see this from Ireland. I'll be back with your feet and mind on the floor and slowly return to the path of wasting a lot through the fields bordering the beach.

Let's go back to the b & b to rest a little before launching into the atmosphere of the village at night.

Let Doolin satisfied and as always a bit melancholy but confident that we will be back soon. Retrace the Burren to Galway to Clifden and we suffered Drigo. The distance today is less than usual and so we allow a generous stop at Joann's Gift Shop. The shop boasts a selection of the best of Irish crafts and knitwear. Continue the journey to Clifden in search of the b & b that will host the next three days, which is located right on world-famous Sky Road. We reach the ' Ardmore House in advance and after a nap we explore the Sky Road on foot.

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

The day seems to turn to the better (even though the rain now has completely spared). This evening we expect the very lively nightlife with pubs Clifden impeccable, the smell of peat and people pouring through the streets with cups in hand and a lot of fun.

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Leaving Dingle and head towards Tarbert where we hope to take the ferry that will take us across the Shannon to Kilrush and saving us time and the miles needed to walk along the bay of Limerick.

The day side has the typical Irish weather: fog, rain now slightly stronger hours, wind and some sun piecemeal. We get on the ferry in the hope of spotting some dolphins along the way but have no luck on the Shannon.

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

A meal and a pint of O'Connors and suffered a must visit to Magnetic Music Café: a truly unique place that houses both a music store (almost all traditional doc) and a cafe where you can taste the delicious homemade cakes . I do not know what's in this place so special, but I assure you that once sat at a table will be very difficult to decide to go out again.

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