You're very welcome on my green Bus

We made a bus tour in order to see the famous Cliffs of Moher:

The bus was packed full of Americans and Germans and other nationalities that didn't answer our tour guide's questions: 

Our first stop was Dunguaire Castle, which theoretically looks like this on a beautiful day:

Retrieved: http://cycleireland.ie/wp-content/gallery/doolin-to-galway_1/cycle-clare-dunguaire-castle.jpg

But actually:

We passed by quickly and went straight to the town for a bathroom break.  It was still early in the morning, so the tide was still out and the fog was still heavy:

The town was very quaint and colorful:

I like boats.  All of the boats were standing on their keels in the harbor because of the tide.  My camera stinks though, so I could only document this guy:

Intrepid explorers, into the muddy unknown:

Ireland appears to be all rock, grass, and moss. It was beautiful. But apparently riddled with traps for those who've had a few to many pints of Guiness:

Our next stop was Corcomroe Abbey (1205-1600 AD):

This was about the time it became clear that our Irish bus driver reaaallllly didn't like the British.  He spent most of the trip on the microphone telling stories of his life and of Ireland's history in the slow and charming way only an older Irish gentleman can do.  We were captivated- he could of read us a dictionary.  His voice was the treasure one finds at the end of a rainbow, according to Irish lore. But where was I? oh yes, the British.

"Well you know he's gotten too many wives and not enough sons by this point, so Henry sends the dear pope a nice request for a divorce and behold his holiness tells him no. So he sees in his minds eye a vision of an England without the catholic church and goes ahead and well you know the rest.  So he starts going throughout the country and senseless destroying the beautiful abbeys his Irish subjects have toiled to create, killin em all, how is that for religious progress?...." 

He spoke with a genuine sadness in his voice as he chronicled the abuses of the British towards Ireland, least of all involving religious disputes.

The abbey was still very pretty, even in ruin:

The abbey was near the Burren, which was a beautiful part of Ireland.  It was a scenery I have never seen before.  You may be able to notice, that in the picture above, the hill is grey.  This is because this entire region is covered in a layer of stone.  Every single green field (a lot of them in the valleys) had the stones removed by hand (hence the billions of walls) in order to farm. The soil was relatively barren, so they hauled in seaweed from the ocean every year to help increase the quality.

Here are some more pictures of the region (that I did not take):

Retrieved from: http://www.burrennationalpark.ie/images/blackhead.jpg

We arrived in Doolin around lunchtime and stopped for a few Dooliners (local ale) and a sandwich.  It was then directly on to the Cliffs of Moher, which were spectacular.  Our tour guide said that we had the best weather he's seen since last year, and that lately they've been to foggy to even see. And that the restaurant was the best it's been all year.  And that we had the best luck with traffic ever.  Granted, this could have been a sales pitch, but we ate it up nonetheless (tell me good Irish sir, what does the snake oil do again?).  

Our first view:

But it did actually quickly warm up, burning off the clouds and making us sweat profusely in all of our jackets.  The cliffs in some places are right around 700 feet tall, making the view dramatic and beautiful. Photos:

We weren't the only people who visited, but luckily we were some of the only few that walked more than a quarter mile.  They built a suggested safety path, but 90% of the people were much too cool to stay on it.

But not these guys!

Eventually it got less crowded and we got more cool.  We crossed over to the edge to see some of the drops.  We were quite timid though, and seemed to be the only ones.

 A lot of people- a real whole heaping lot- seemed hell bent on falling in the name of obtaining "the perfect selfie".  Just imagine, people in heels or sandles taking a selfie and slowly backing up in order to get the "perfect" angle.  It gave me a little anxiety.  SO much that I had to take a seat and look away:

and it turns out looking away from cameras is still cool:

Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the smell of ocean, maybe it was the dooliners- we'll never know exactly why- but we also got bit by the selfie bug:

 

After an hour and a half of wandering we headed back to the bus in order to head home.

We made a short stop at another castle, passed the a field where braveheart mooned the british, passed the hometown of Barack Obama's ancestors, and heard more from our bus driver about the Irish wars that lasted into 1998.

We were all very happy with our bus selection and that we left Dublin for a day.  Next time I want to see the Giant's Causeway, but our bus driver did warn us it is in the north (with the protestants)!