The Real Most Interesting Man in the World

On our third day in San Sebastian, Ryan and I found a smaller, local beach after a morning bike ride through town. We independently observed an older gentleman (he must have been in his mid 70's) scantily clad in a black speedo, with the body of a 40 year old Navy Seal, a white mustache rivaling Teddy Roosevelt and an uncanny ability to perch on the sand and then take long swims out into the ocean. At one point, we looked at each other and said, "this guy has a story to tell." We coined him the Real most interesting man in the world (he doesn't ever drink beer because he taught his horse how to drink beer for him) and spent the next 30 minutes making up an entire back story chronicling all of his life adventures. In all seriousness,  we determined the mystery man exemplifies the lifestyle of the San Sebastian. And now begins the tale of the real most interesting man in the world.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just as the sun is rising I am awakened by the sound of dolphins beckoning me for my morning swim. I gently move the freshly tanned grecian models off my chest and glide to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth in tree pose I follow the dolphins call with a swan dive off my front veranda. The water feels cool against my skin and my arms cut through it like ninjutsu knives as I circle Santa Clara Island 6 times before the sun has successfully become a fixture in the sky.

Santa Clara Island

Still needing to shake the early morning sleep, or perhaps clear the synthesizer still bouncing from temple to temple after my impromptu Jazzaldia performance with George Clinton and the Parliamant-Funkadelic (how can I say no to a man that calls me his favorite drug?) I broke routine and mounted my Arabian, taking in a quick bareback gallop through my fruit orchard.  I plucked ripe apricots, nectarines and peaches from the trees and skinned them between my thumb and forefinger, savoring their ripeness and swallowing the seed whole.

George Clinton at Jazzaldia

I entered the house to my silica nanowire pager vibrating on the white, marbled kitchen counter. Arthur Wellesley the X was requesting my services to help plan a military coup against the Portuguese. When will my deep rooted enemies stop using me as their emergency contact? While I realize my time spent training for and with the SEALs, Rangers, SAS, JTF2, GROM and Green Berets makes me an invaluable source of brute and knowledge, I now strive to practice a world of peaceful engagement and harmony of body and soul. However, not one to ignore an adversary I signal to my Arabian and she quickly responds 30, 6000_6 (look it up).

After a quick rinse in my solar heated outdoor shower I pull on my black speedo and shrug into my white, linen short sleeve button-down. The intense sun and light breeze begs for it to remain unbuttoned, at least for the time being. Before leaving my home, I take a quick peak in the bedroom and decide to let my new friends continue to sleep. They are, after all, tourists.

Jogging barefoot down Monte Igueldo, I stop at the red clay tennis courts to teach a quick lesson before checking to make sure there has not been a shark sighting. It has been many years since I wrestled a shark with my bare hands, and while shark sightings are a rarity in the area, I find it my civic duty to ensure the safety of my people.  Please know, I am a lover not a fighter.  But, I am also a fighter so don't get any ideas. The rest of the morning is spent teaching Basque in Catalan, monitoring the safety of the beaches, consulting on the engineering of the 2015 Jazzaldia Festival, and completing the rounds on my routine house calls. It is such a pleasure and reward to heal those that are ailing in our community. Seeing that my last house call is in Old Town, I cannot help but snatch up a few pinxtos before my town takes its late afternoon siesta.

Chicago magazine's wonderful picture of Pinxtos (thanks!)

While my city sleeps, I discreetly perch amongst the scattered tourists at Playa Ondaretta finish off  my morning fruit, and practice holding my breath underwater (as I once again swim with the dolphins). I notice a lovely, American couple look my way a few times and am about to go introduce myself when my former SEAL friend saunters up to me on the beach. We spend the next hour recounting our heroics, female conquests and recent interest in magic. After he saunters off, I glance around to see if I can spot my American tourists and find them riding bikes away from the beach. It seems our friendship was not meant to be for this lifetime. I am struck by how much this saddens me and the sky suddenly showers us all with rain.  A day is never complete without a few scoops of ice-cream, which I devour on my stroll up the steep hill to my home.

Playa La Concha

The evening finds me back in Old Town, surrounded by laughter, pinxtos and free flowing wine. The streets are filled with an energetic pulse and the temperature, having dropped a few degrees, is extremely pleasant and welcoming. In this moment, with a full glass of txakoli, a belly full of food and the faint sound of jazz music wafting through the air I am content. Until tomorrow.  Stay thirsty my friends.

Champagne Anyone?

The Champagne Crew

There are very few places in the world that carry more prestige than that of Champagne, France.  Located just 90 minutes outside of Paris you would assume that this famous region would be overrun with all varietals of summer tourists. Yet, surprisingly, this isn't at all the case.  What does exist is a perfect balance of large, name brand champagne and small family vineyards.  It's not overrun with anyone and as you travel throughout the region you come to realize that this outcome is completely intentional.  It's quite a place.

Oh and it doesn't hurt that it looks like this:

Pretty terrible, right?

To pick up the story where Jamie left off, we wrapped up our Paris visit with a well completed to do list.  Having both been to Paris it allowed for us to explore the city a bit deeper than our first go around.  We took a walk up to Montmartre to see the Sacre-Coeur (Sacred Heart Cathedral), extensively toured our neighborhood of La Marais, placed a lock on the "love lock" bridge (Pont de l'Archeveche), walked past the Louvre through the Jardin des Touleries, along the Seine and down the Champ de Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe and visited our friends Kimmy and Chris in Versailles.  We both thoroughly enjoyed our Paris 2.0 experience. 

We kicked off our Champagne weekend with a seemingly easy Dollar rental car pick up outside the Paris Montparnasse train station.  Well, that's a bit of a lie as we didn't realize the Dollar rental office was actually outside of the train station until we asked a few very confused train station employees.  No problem, off we went to pick up our spacious seven passenger van for the weekend, right?  Nope, wrong.  Not a shocker here but the definition of a seven passenger vehicle in the states isn't exactly how they define it in Paris.  Allow me to paint the picture.  The truck we were assigned is basically a Chevy Blazer with a third row that essentially eliminated any trunk space.  We had six people, one baby, five large bags, four backpacks, one diaper bag, one stroller and a partridge in a pear tree.  Let's just say we were all quite proud of our Tetris playing abilities as we pulled out of that garage.  Having your feet on the ground is vastly overrated.

Real life Tetris level.  Challenge accepted. 

We stayed in a small town of Trélou-sur-Marne, which is situation in the western half of the Champagne region.  We rented a house from a family who produces a small line of Champagne. As part of our stay we were allowed to tour their cellar and taste their delicious champagne.

Line of Champagne produced by our hosts in Trélou-sur-Marne

Where Mom sits and adheres, by hand, all of the labels to their Champagne bottles.  DIY before it became hipster cool. 

Our housing location was perfect.  It allowed easy access to the larger well know towns of the region (Epernay & Reims) while providing a distinct small town charm that was appreciated after five nights in busy Paris.  Most importantly it gave us the opportunity for a beautiful morning run, much needed after the constant consumption of cheese and baguettes.

Run route

We spent the next three days enjoying all that Champagne had to offer.  We ate, we drank, we had a birthday (well me).  During our bubble induced bender we made a stop at the most famous Champagne producers in the world.  That would be Moet & Chandon, producer of Moet and Dom Perignon. The tour/tasting at Moet & Chandon was certainly the most expensive, but even at 28 Euro per person it was definitely worth the price.  

The tour started with a full history of the Moet family.  The vineyard was started by Claude Moet. The rise to prominence was largely due to the personal taste of King Henry XV, who clearly knew how to throw a party, in the mid 1700's.  It wasn't however until a son in law, Pierre - Gabriel Chandon, took over to where the brand really took off. 

Ok, enough history for one post.  

Before we entered the cellar portion of the tour we were shuffled in to watch a short movie on the Moet & Chandon brand.  When they say movie they apparently meant commercial, as it was literally a 10-minute commercial about their Champagne.  The voice of the narrator in the video had a comically seductive voice.  When combined with their drastic overuse of adjectives in the video (she would just randomly say thing like juicy, wet), it quickly became a running joke for the rest of the day to pick a random term and recite in our most sensual voices.  It seems quite apparent that Julie is destined for a new profession.

The cellars at Moet & Chandon are awe-inspiring.  As I mentioned earlier the distance from Paris to the Champagne region is roughly 90 minutes.  There are so many bottles of champagne in their cellar that if laid end to end it would reach the full distance back to Paris.  That should just about cover P Diddy’s next White Party.  We learned about the grape selection process, the varietals that go into the different types of Champagne, and that Dom Perignon is produced entirely by hand.  We aren’t really sure the “made by hand” process results in the champagne being any better but we are sure that it allows for the much higher price tag.  We finished with a tasting of a Moet Reserve Brut and a Moet Rose, a perfect end to the tour. 

Please, just a taste?!?

Throughout our time in Champagne we learned some interesting factoids.  I will bestow this knowledge on you now.  Word of caution, just the right amount of champagne knowledge makes you interesting, too many factoids makes you a douche.  Use carefully:

• The champagne glass, as you know it today was created to maximize the bubbles after a champagne pour.  Specifically, in nice champagne glasses, there is a small dimple indent in the very bottom of the glass, which creates a flow chamber for the bubbles to continuously rise.

• Champagne is a region, not a grape.

• Champagne must be kept in a cellar for a minimum of 15 months to be labeled as Champagne. 

• Most champagne is produced by pressing together three types of grapes – Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier

• Champagne's bubbles are created when the yeast consumes the sugar during the second fermentation After the second fermentation there is sediment (left over yeast) in the bottom of the bottle.

• Thru a process called “Remuage” the remaining sediment is removed from the bottle.  The corresponding lost liquid is replaced by a specially selected wine blend along with a blast of sugar to create the final varietal of champagne.    

• There are three main types of champagne – Brut Nature, Brut, and Brut Demi Sec.  The difference being the amount of sugar added after the second fermentation.

• Local vineyards are separated into three types: Regular Cru, Reserve Cru and Grand Cru 

• When those grapes are blended together, there is no vintage year on the bottle.  

• When only Grand Cru grapes are used there is a vintage year is on the bottle.

• Dom Perignon is only produced using Grand Cru

Rose' B_itches

Fun Fact: The best cherry pie I have had in Europe was made by an American, thanks Kimmy!

Bastille Day

Initially, we thought about planning our destinations around major events in each city, Wimbledon in London, the running of the bulls in Pamplona, or Tour de France somewhere in France. Our timing has been terrible and we have successfully missed or will be missing every event we have an interest in being a part of. However, we were able to make it to Paris in time for Bastille Day (or as the French say, La Fête nationale and commonly Le quatorze juillet). 

Some of our favorite people, Kimmy and Chris, are living in Versailles with their unbelievably amazing daughter Lilah (I’m obsessed) and met Ryan and I at our Airbnb in Le Marais along with Julie and Richard who were staying in a different part of town.

Side note: I absolutely recommend staying in Le Marais when visiting Paris. It spreads across parts of the 3rd and 4th arrondissements and is within walking distance of most of the major city highlights. The neighborhood is everything you hope for in Paris. The cobblestone streets are lined with markets, cafes, boutiques, and the people watching is fabulous. I literally squealed with delight when we rounded a corner and stumbled upon the Louvre and then the Eiffel Tower for the first time. And no, I am not ashamed to admit this. 

We set out with our backpacks and picnic blanket with a plan to leisurely stroll past Notre Dame, through Saint Germain and end up at the Eiffel Tour to watch the fireworks, which had not been on display since 2000. The weather was absolutely perfect, and a wonderful reprieve from all the rain we had encountered thus far. We spent the next few hours collecting picnic items from local vendors, gushing over Lilah and stopping for a few cocktails. 

The crew outside of Notre Dame

The streets were surprisingly quiet, considering the holiday, and we started to wonder if the 6 Americans would be the only people in Paris celebrating (it doesn't hurt that the French flag is red, white and blue and we all felt a little homesick on the 4th of July). However, the closer we got to the Eiffel Tower the more people we encountered and the energy permeating from the crowd was contagious. We arrived at the Champ de Mars (the park in front of the Eiffel Tower) approximately 5 hours before the fireworks were scheduled to start to ensure a spot on the already crowded grass. I know this sounds brazen, however I could not imagine a better setting to celebrate the independence of a country I have no affiliation to. 

Ryan and I at the Champ de Mars, smothering Lilah with love (she has a crush on Ryan)

 We joined in the general euphoria while we ate cheese, guzzled wine, ripped through baguettes, and smeared pesto on everything and anything. We were just finishing up our macaroons and truffles when the live classical music and opera started around 9:30pm. I am not romanticizing the setting, it was truly once in a lifetime amazing. The crowd continued to grow and we used our best defensive skills to maintain the small patch of grass we had claimed as ours. We even joined forces with our neighbors to make sure we didn't lose our square inches and chanted what I assume were profanities at anyone who stood in our way or tried to wedge themselves near us.

Our patch of grass

This is the crowd before it really started to fill up!

The sun set about an hour later and both the crowd and anticipation grew as everyone eagerly awaited the start of the firework display. The French National Anthem came on around 11pm and it still amazes me how incredible it feels to be swept up in the pride and emotion of a unified country. The entire crowd came to their feet and sang along until a series of fireworks flashed across the Eiffel Tower, "1914", "2014" and ""Vive la paix" (Long live peace). The firework show was set to the theme War and Peace, and given the current climate of the world struck a chord. Additionally, I am such a sucker for live music, fireworks, the Eiffel Tower, and good friends. My heart was so full.

Ryan took this picture of the Fireworks, pretty good eh?

We swayed to the music and sang aloud to the Beatles 'Imagine' until the show ended and the crowd (between the 6 of us we estimated anywhere from 200,000 to 500,000 people) started a bit of a pilgrimage towards the nearest Metro stops and neighborhoods. I have to give Kimmy and Chris a ton of credit here as they had to trek back to Versailles and due to overcrowded buses and holiday transit schedules didn't make it home until 2:30am. Not to mention Chris had just flown in from Chicago and was high level functioning on less than 4 hours of airplane sleep. 

I could not imagine a more perfect start to our stay in Paris.

Fun Fact: Bastille Day isn't actually France's independence day. July 14 commemorates the beginning of the French Revolution with the storming of the Bastille. 

The Goofy of Europe

Gordie: Alright, alright, Mickey's a mouse, Donald's a duck, Pluto's a dog. What's Goofy?

Teddy: Goofy's a dog. He's definitely a dog.

Chris: He can't be a dog. He drives a car and wears a hat.

Vern: Oh, God. That's weird. What the hell is Goofy?

This about sums up our feelings towards Brussels. We had a day to kill after Bremen and before Paris, so we planned a 24 hour stop over in this confused city. Part tourist trap, part French, part Dutch, all chocolate and mostly mussels. The Goofy of Europe, which either fittingly or ironically is referred to as the de facto capital of the EU. We spent our time attempting to see it all.

Ryan at Grand Place, the central square. It really was quite majestic  

Grand Place/Swarms of Tourists

We saw these in a window... 

..and then we ate them

The St. Michaels and St. Gudula Cathedral

Fun Fact: The above is a quote from the movie Stand By Me, an American classic. For your viewing pleasure. 

Bremen: A Sachtjen Pilgrimage

What kind of name is that?  

This is a question I have received countless times growing up with the last name of Sachtjen.  I always knew the Sachtjen family was from northern Germany, more specifically from the Bremen area and for many years that represented the full extent of my family knowledge.  Our trip provided a rare opportunity to dig deeper and learn more about specifically where I come from, to see if I could find any distant relatives, and to hopefully connect to the place the Sachtjen family embarked from over 150 years ago. 

Our pilgrimage starts in the oft-overlooked German town of Bremen. 

A quick side-note: what made this exploration even more enjoyable is Jamie’s mutual connection to Bremen.  As a high school exchange student Jamie’s Dad (Bob) lived in Bremen and developed a lifelong admiration of the German language, culture and people.  We were both pretty excited about the next couple days. 

Immediately we realized that Bremen is a real German town.  While they certainly do have tourists throughout the city during the summer you quickly realize that this is a city with its own identity first and tourist destination second.  Jamie and I both recognized how much we appreciated walking through areas where normal, everyday Germans were just carrying on their lives, much different than the fishbowl phenomenon that happens in many tourist centric cities.  It provided a unique opportunity to be immersed in real German culture. We both understood why Jamie’s Dad was such a fan.  It also doesn’t hurt that it’s a pretty city, on the river, with a tremendous amount of history throughout. 

Jamie's showing Bremen Town Square first position.

Bremen's version of Lake Shore Path.  Football stadium in the background - Go SV Werder Bremen!

St. Petri Dom Bremen Cathedral 

 If you do visit Bremen one place you must check out is an area called the Schnoor.  Named after “snoor”, which is the Low German word for string.  This is the oldest district in town and boasts a maze of charming streets and shops, all of which are lined up as if a line of string was placed in the middle ages to ensure perfect construction.  In the Schnoor we quickly realized Germans affinity for ice cream, it’s totally insane how much ice cream they eat.  Two people sitting at a restaurant? Yep, eating ice cream.  Two people at a café? Yep, eating ice cream.  A family walking down the street? You guessed it, crushing a huge ice cream sundae.  I’m also sorry to report but it’s really not that good.  Don't pass up the Schnoor. 

Are you Schnoor you want to go this way?

After a full day and a half touring Bremen we kicked off the Sachtjen pilgrimage.  I was able to gather some information from the stateside Sachtjen’s (thanks Steve, Brendan & Barry) and learned that our family had emigrated from Bremerhaven in 1846.  I also learned that Bremerhaven recently completed an Emigration Museum that, among other things, includes a family database section with open access to the public.  Finally, I determined from an online search that there appeared to be one active Sachtjen address, which was in the small farming village of Horsten, Germany.  Once we completed a quick mapping session and a Hertz rental car pick up, off we went, north on the Autobahn. First stop, the sea coast village of Bremerhaven (as we learned pronounced Bremer-HA-ven, yep get down there in the back of your throat, haaaaven). 

Bremerhaven Harbor.  Proud sponsor, Team "have fun run and fart"

More Bremerhaven Harbor, less running and farting

Bremerhaven’s Emigration Museum was really well done.  Instead of the traditional museum structure the intent here is to recreate the experience that our ancestors would have had many years ago.  You are given a boarding card that gives you an identity that guides you throughout the experience.  Jamie, of course is a first class passenger, eligible for the fine dining areas and smoking cars, nothing but the best.  I, not surprisingly, was subject to an unknown, likely third class voyage.  I hope the view is nice up there! At the end we spent some time in the archive database room and were able to have them print off some cool family tree information, which showed Tietje Sachtjen, who left Bremerhaven October 15^th, 1846.  Unfortunately the original ship manifest from 1846 had been destroyed many years prior, a small downside to an otherwise great experience. 

Ryan about to nerd it up at the Emigration Museum

Port marker (BH) that would have kicked of the Sachtjen Family journey in 1846

After a stroll along the waterfront we said goodbye to Bremerhaven, we were off to find some real life German Sachtjens.  Hortsen here we come…

At this point all we really knew was that we found an address for two different Sachtjen family members, both living at the same address, and presumably a husband and a wife.  No phone, no email, just an address. Bernd and Johann Sachtjen, Kirchstr 28, Freideberg, Horsten.  Since we all know that everything on the inter web is always one hundred percent accurate we had no idea what we were walking into as we planned to just knock on some doors.  

Find Horsten, check.

We make it into Hortsen without much trouble and turned down what we believe to be their street.  It's a lovely cobblestone road, lined with trees and brick homes on either side.  The houses are set relatively close together, with each of their respective farming lands stretched out far behind each house.  This gives the area a neighborhood feel even though each house has a lot of property as well.  We pull up to #28, laughing a bit as we have no idea what to expect, and walk up to ring the doorbell.  The bell has "Sachtjen" written next to it, we have at least found the right spot.  Unfortunately there is no answer.  A neighbor across the street, who is looking at us curiously, motions around to the back of the house.  Off we head to the pasture area of their property, swing around another barn and come to an entire family sitting underneath the trees enjoying a German style picnic.  It's about to go down.

For the record I speak literally no German.  I can say please and thank you and that is it.  Jamie is blessed with double the skills as she can say about four different words in German that her Dad taught her while growing up.  Clearly we were well suited for this conversation.  I mention this because the German Sachtjen's literally speak no English.  The exchange was insane and hilarious, I quickly resorted to pulling out my Illinois Drivers License so that I could point at the last name and then myself.  I also learned (and Jamie is quick to point out) that I am terrible at gesturing or speaking slowly in this situation, I just ramble on in English at the same speed as normal, hoping that my distant relatives will just all of a sudden understand what I am saying.  Well, they didn't.  Props to Jamie at this point who jumped in and made a circular gesture around the table, speaking slowly and clearly, "Sachtjen's?".  Nods ensued, which prompted her to put her arms around me and say "Sachtjen."  Undoubtably the most successful exchange of our visit.  

We spent the next 20 minutes or so gesturing, smiling and pointing at things.  Jamie and I quickly resorted to showing pictures of Banjo after we pet their dogs for a few minutes.  We shared the family tree that we acquired in Bremerhaven, they studied with great interest.  We ended the visit with an exchange of information and a new Facebook friend in my distant cousin Annika.  Ok, Jamie is Facebook friends with her, I still don't think this Facebook thing is going to catch on.  Even though we couldn't really communicate it was a great visit, topped off with a hilarious family picture.  

Mission Accomplished.  

Smile! Ok, Ryan smile.  The Horsten Sachtjen family

 Fun Fact:  Driving on the Autobahn is amazing. :) 

Amsterdam : The Social Experiment

What if we built a city and let everyone, within reason, do as they choose?  What would happen?  The answer, in a word, is Amsterdam.  Normally,  if we presented such a scenario of wide personal freedoms in a city, one would think that anarchy would reign supreme.  The display of sex and drugs would inevitably overwhelm any amount of charm or history the city could offer, right?  In the case of Amsterdam however you would be dead wrong.  This city has, in a miraculous way, organized the chaos of the many colorful influences that paint the landscape of the city that we see today.  It has quickly become one of our favorite newest, oldest cities.

We arrived into Amsterdam the evening of July 4th, to drop our bags, and take in the city.  We made our way down to a Lange Lidsedwarsstraat, an area of town that I can best explain as the Wrigleyville of Amsterdam, the streets are lined with outside bars, restaurants and cafes.  As we dined, we enjoyed  a tremendous display of people watching.  The city was buzzing.  As our friend Richard best stated (about a hundred times), "everything is happening."

This is the point in the blog where we give a massive shout out and thank you to our friends Kirk and Bre, who graciously allowed for the four of us to crash in their apartment during our time in Amsterdam.  Their place is wonderful, perfectly located and a much appreciated reprieve from our run of B&B's.

Over the next couple days we absorbed as much Amsterdam as possible.  We walked the streets (which for the record are really easy to get lost in as all of the streets curve into one giant circle), we ate, we drank and then walked the streets some more.

Take that Summer Shandy

Obviously we can't be in Amsterdam without renting bikes, which allowed for us to circle the city a number of times in an afternoon.  It's worth stating at this point that the traffic in the city follows the organized chaos I spoke of earlier.  There are seemingly 20 different lanes of traffic (cars, trams, mopeds, bikes, walking, stoned people walking), but yet we didn't see a single accident occur during our ride.  Just make sure to look both ways, about ten times over.

Jamie biking it up, in front of the Royal Palace

Is this how I do it?

Before heading out on vacation, Kirk and Bre connected us to their friend Paap for a private canal tour.   It was perfect.  We cruised thru the canals for an hour and a half (he cut us a deal for an extra free 30 min), taking in all the beauty of the city while Pap shared historical factoids of the city.  Paap, of course, lives on a houseboat in one of the canals.  He is substantially cooler than any of us.

Lunch and Prosecco on the canal? Yes please. 

My boy Paap.

Because just two pictures of the canals isn't enough.

I wouldn't also be doing this post true justice without making mention of our brief stop off at the red light district, which for the record was suggested by Jamie.  It was much more of a tourist trap than we expected but still a pretty hilarious place to experience.  I'll let the following speak for itself:

Literal marketing at its finest. 

In total we have loved Amsterdam.  Multiple times the comment has been made of how livable this city feels, it's truly a special place.

A couple last photos for your blog reading enjoyment.

There also happened to be this little soccer tournament going on, maybe you have heard of it.

She didn't forget to stop.

Fun Fact: You can buy green stuff at a Coffee Shop, not to be confused with a Coffee House or a Cafe, which serves actual coffee. Confusing.

Along the Coast of Ireland

We loved Ireland. It is lush (probably because it rains so much...), scenic, makes a darn good seafood chowder and has a lazy way about it that makes you want to curl up with a good book, drink some afternoon tea and gaze out at the breathtaking scenery. 

After reluctantly leaving the Campbell's, we headed southwest to Galway, a sleepy fishing village with bohemian charm. We strolled the cobblestone, pedestrian only streets, walked along Galway Bay and settled into a cozy pub for fresh lobster and chowder. Our night cap was open mic night at a local pub, which served to be quite entertaining. "Jonah/Isaac/Isaiah" from Virginia did a mean one man a-capella performance, proving it difficult to be both the bass line and melody. Needing a good night sleep, we hoofed it back to our spacious room, I will let this picture tell the story:

Charming town of Galway

Galway harbor

A stroll by the sea

After consuming yet another Irish breakfast, we set out for a drive along the western coast. We had all day to drive the 80 or so miles to Doolin, so we promised each other we would stop everywhere and anywhere along the way. Here are a few of the highlights:

Dunguaire Castle 

Ryan and I outside of Dunguaire Castle

Ryan, Richard and Julie outside of a little chocolate shop we spotted. Bellies full of PB&J truffles, they were inspired to recreate "Jonah/Isaac/Isaiah's" performance from the previous night.

Sitting outside of Corcomroe Abbey, an early 13th century Cistercian monestary

Richard and I taunting the cows

The Cliffs of Moher

Ryan at the Cliffs of Moher, stunningly beautiful (both of them...)

Pouring one out for my dad, he would have loved to ride his bike through Ireland

We had hoped to catch a boat tour along the Cliffs of Moher before departing Doolin, however because of fierce winds and choppy seas they cancelled the trip. Wah wah. Instead, we hit the road and headed to the Dingle Peninsula by way of more country road and a brief ferry. It rained the majority of our two night stay, however we sported ponchos and umbrellas and entertained ourselves with more chowder and traditional Irish music. We were a little bummed we weren't able to see the beauty of the Dingle Peninsula and Conor Pass due to weather, but now we have an excuse to go back!

Ferry on the way to Dingle

Blown away by the scenery...yep...I did that...

On our last day in Ireland we attempted one last time to take in the Conor Pass vistas. It was still pretty socked in, but Google images gave us an idea of what we were missing. 

Conor Pass is behind me, I am sure it is beautiful. TripAdvisor gives it 5 stars

Thanks, Google

We had a 3+ hour drive to Cork and decided we should cram in as many tourist activities as possible before we turned in our rental car and checked in for our flight to Amsterdam. We paid too many euro to sprint to the Blarney Stone and grab a 99 (ice-cream cone), but it was well worth the laughs and race against the clock.

Enjoying a 99 outside the Blarney Stone cafe

Blarney in all his glory

Farewell, Ireland. Until next time. Slan.

Fun Fact: This has become the theme song of our trip.