dublin snow,seaside drive
I would never have believed that my first snow of Winter 2008 would be experienced in Dublin. The locals don't believe it either. "It never snows here in October," was the refrain heard again and again. "We don't usually get any snow until January."
Palms trees the Irish call cordelines are a part of many landscapes, so I do believe that. But ice and snow snarled traffic and caused accidents early today.
A yummy carrot and coriander soup warmed us up at Malehide Castle, the ancestral home of the Talbot family since 1167. Rose Talbot lived there and joined tours until the mid70s, when she could no longer afford the upkeep.She's now in her 90s and living in Tasmania. The basement lunchroom where we ate had antlers and a turtle's head mounted on the wall. I can't imagine making a trophy of a sea turtle but it probably was used for another soup.
For dessert petite chef Mary Byrne brought us an apple tart still warm from the oven along with a raspberry roulade, that to me appeared related to the meringue pavlova I'd enjoyed in Australia. I'd always thought it was an Aussie original, not even thinking that prisoners brought from Ireland comprised much of Australia's early population - so OF COURSE there's a food connection.
Seaside villages en route to tonight's hotel in Drogheda are idyllic off the beaten track destinations for visitors. They're perhaps a half hour by train from Dublin with all the delights and lower prices on village life but still an easy daytrip to the considerable attractions of Dublin.
I'm showing you a seaside photo of the village of Skerries today, where a thatched roof bed and breakfast called O'Leary's caught my eye. Click on the photo to enlarge it and perhaps you can even see the seals that frolic on the rocks off the coast.
Many rock groups are native to these seaside towns and stars such as Bob Geldorf, Bono and U2 still keep homes here. Although today's weather is dreadful , the Irish Sea is beautiful and I can just imagine how nice it would be along here in summer. I'm told that at low tide one can walk out a mile and the water's only knee deep.