Time to leave Dun Laoghaire. After breakfast we walked down to the travel office to meet the rental car agent. He gave us a ride to their office where we filled out the necessary paperwork. The agent also gave us some maps and a pretty good idea where we were going – at least we thought so then. Steve was the first to find out what I is like to drive on the left side of the road in a car whose steering wheel is on the right. He got to go first because he lost the butter flip at breakfast. As we drove we learned that the two things you are told about driving in Ireland are true. The roads are narrow and the signs suck. We missed a turn at one point and spent the better part of an hour wandering without a clue through the farmlands of County Wicklow. There aren’t many sighs and many that you do come across reference towns that aren’t on the map. We got so desperate that we asked a cow with a good sense of direction. She pointed us in the right way and soon we were back on course.

The Wicklow Gap brought us through the Wickow Mountans and the Glendalough Valley. It was a very pretty ride. After the mountains the ride was less impressive and turned out being challenging as we neared Kilkenny. Once again the signs were less than adequate. We did multiple turns through a number of rotaries, or roundabouts as they are called here, before we found the town. Finding the B&B was made a little more difficult by the fact that we didn’t have directions.

According to the book, the house was only supposed to be 2 km from to so we decided to walk in. It was more like 3-4 kms to the center. Because the walk was longer than expected we felt the need to stop at the first pub we came to. This was a place called Jim Rafton’s, a local place without much going on. We continued our trek stopping just before town at a place called James Phalen. The lady who tended bar was wonderful. She talked with us the whole time we were there. We shared our itinerary with her and she approved of all but the Wicklow stop. She felt that it would be a waste of time. It turns out that she has visited Boston a number of times because her father is a priest at St. Steven’s church in the North End. She also gave us the names of a half-dozen or so pubs. After bidding her farewell we headed into the center of town.

Our first stop in town was at Caislean Ui Cuain which means something in Irish. We witnessed a horrible Guinness pour there too. The barman rushed the pour which resulted in too much head which he then proceeded to scrape off with a knife. I don’t know if I have ever seen that before. Even in the U.S. We move on from there to Langston’s which we had been told had good food. Steve ordered the roast beef and I had the Irish stew which we paired with a couple of Guinness of course. Our waitress dropped Steve’s plate on my leg when she was delivering our meals. It left a few spots on my jeans but nothing serious. They quickly brought him a replacement along with extra potatoes and veges. We both enjoyed dinner especially after they gave us the beer for free because of the spill.

With full stomachs we headed over to Shem’s where there were no seats available at the bar. We ordered our Guinness and grabbed a table near the bar. For the duration of our stay we were forced to listen to three older gentlemen ramble on about racing dogs. Talk about a “ruff” bar. After we had heard all of the canine stories we could handle we continued up the street to Wm Byrne where we saw some really horrible programs on the tele. Our last stop on this side of the street was Teach Osta Ui hAogain which was a yawner. Our first pub after making the turn was The Porch. This turned out to be our favority. Three kind gentlemen told us all bout hurling and Gaelic football.

After our sports lesson we continued back towards the center of town. Matt Miler’s was our next stop. It was quite busy, filled with a young crowd which started to thin once the clubs started to open. From what we could tell, the majority of the folks were heading to Langton’s so we decided to go too. After paying the £3 cover we found the place to be mobbed. Shortly after starting my Guinness I came to the conclusion that I was drunk and couldn’t drink any more so we left. Steve then had a great idea. He grabbed a taxi which saved us 40 minutes of staggering. I guess I wasn’t the only one who was wasted. Steve was out cold before we arrived back at the house.