Talking with Strangers on the Beara Peninsula
At the time I met Noel—on an Irish morning flawless as a perfectly poured pint of Guinness—I had a plan:…
At the time I met Noel—on an Irish morning flawless as a perfectly poured pint of Guinness—I had a plan:…
Steel horseshoes struck 500-year-old cobblestones, echoing off brick walls of the homes and shops lining Callejón del Aguacate. Astride Frina, I…
“Flossie died playing cards.” Like any good snoop and all-around Nosy Parker, my ears perked up as the unseen woman…
Earlier this summer while traveling in Ireland I met Mickey, an Irish gentleman who came into Con & Maura’s Bar,…
In a Dispatch a while ago, I mentioned an Irish radio show I listened to one morning while driving from Ireland’s…
There’s a theory (you can look it up and read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers) referred to as the 10,000-hours rule, which…
I had this vague notion about my first trip to Ireland 15 years ago: that I would seek out some…
I lost my map of Dublin in the toilet of the restaurant where I ate breakfast. Or maybe I left…
I have entered an alternative Irish universe called Dublin and I don’t recognize it. At breakfast this morning at O’Malley’s…
My morning began with an early delivery of beer kegs, rolling down the sidewalk to the door of the pub…