We felt like royalty

Just when we thought we’d seen everything magnificent Ireland had to offer, it really pulled one out of the bag, in the shape of Earl’s Court House, and the incomparable Killarney National Park. You could only describe the former as opulent, and the latter as breathtakingly beautiful. 

Killarney National Park

Earl’s Court House, our accommodation in Killarney, was decorated in the finest Victorian tradition. Our room was as large as some small houses, and the furniture was right out of Downton Abbey. Obviously, we’re not royalty, but having stayed here a night I think I can better understand what it means to be royalty.

Muckross House - and that's where the servants live.

Another view of Muckross House

It's my bloody blog, I'll put in as many photos as I like!

The gardens at Muckross House

We spent some of yesterday, and most of today, exploring the Killarney National Park. It is hard to describe the scenery, but if I said the Snowy Mountains on steroids, you might get some idea. It is breathtakingly rugged, serene and incredibly picturesque – I think we just about wore out the batteries in the camera.

The Killarney National Park

Rugged, yet beautiful (that's how women describe me).

The lakes are absolutely beautiful

The national park is also home to one of the grandest nineteenth century houses imaginable, Muckross House. The estate covered some 11,000 acres when it was built, back in around the 1830s, and the house is, well, magnificent. The tour takes you through each room as it was almost 200 years ago. The gardens are also to die for (if you love gardens, like we do.)

This is Alison, oh, yeah, and Ross Castle as well.

The Killarney National Park is set on some unbelievably beautiful lakes. Fortunately for us, they were like glass when we visited. I have seen them described as mysterious, and I think this is a very appropriate description.

 

These are the Torc Falls - (not quite as good as Jubilee Falls?)

Killarney itself is a lovely city, with lots of character (like most Irish cities we’ve been through). Something we still can’t get our heads around is how narrow Irish streets are. I don’t mean narrow in the sense we understand in Australia, I mean NARROW! When we were driving through Cork on our way to the football stadium, our sat nav, affectionately known as Karen, mistakenly took us down a street so narrow, I had to stop, fold in the side-mirror, and then inch my way through to avoid scraping the paint work. Needless to say, both Karen and I needed a stiff drink after that (and Karen received a real dressing down – well, you’ve got to let them know who’s boss).

 

An authentic Irish farmhouse - I know it's authentic because it cost us 15 euros to see it!

And while we’re on the subject of driving, we’ve come to the conclusion that the stereotype of the slightly simple Irish is not completely without foundation. It’s probably not a particular nice thing to say but they do behaviour, well, very Irish. They are amongst the most relaxed people we’ve met. They think nothing of stopping their car in the middle of a main street to talk to Paddy, whom they’ve not seen for an hour or so, or to double or even triple park to go in and buy a pizza from a takeaway. And all the time, no one even bats an eyelid – they just wait patiently for the cars to move on again. Moreover, there doesn’t seem to be such a thing as waiting before you pull out in front of traffic, rather, you just pull out knowing that those behind will slow down or stop for you – this even happens at highway speeds! Driving to Ennis this afternoon, we were caught behind farmer Padraig driving his old David Brown tractor along a major road doing about 10 kph, with not a care in the world. You cannot ever drive along confident nothing will turn in front of you, because just when you least expect it, it will.

The view outside our window at Ennis - it's a tough life, but someone's got to do it.