The West of Ireland - 2 weeks ago

Mark here: (read with caution, and a less critical eye - remember i'm not the writer). Its 2 weeks ago Thursday and Myles, Kate, and myself have set our sites westward. Destination - Galway, and then onto the lesser known escape of Roundstones. On the way we've decided to take a trip out to Ballivor - which is where half of my existance can be found. It's where my Dad grew up on the farm Muchwood, before his mom put him in boarding school. It's the same place where his older brother Bill shot him in the leg with an air gun when he was 2. Admittedly it was a bit confusing, from the map provided as to which side of the road the house was on in relation to the land. In the end it turns out that the house was on the left, which we have no pictures of, we did get plenty of houses on the right. But what we do believe is accurate is that about a mile in from the road above, on the left is this field which is likely the farm. Or it could just be an Irish field in the middle of nowhere which at this point wouldn't suprise me either.What we do know for a fact as the irish historians and myth crushers we are is that this is the town of Ballivor. We know this because the signs on the road as you enter the town say "Ballivor". And although not tested if you were to ask a local, what the name was of this local settlement was called, as a betting man I would think they would say "Ballivor" OR "Get outta my face you moronic Yank". Which probably isn't surprising as when I mentioned to Bill we would be going by the town and farm where he grew up. He looked a me blankly and said "Really? ...why would you want to do that? there's not much to it, and you've only got a few days". Ah well.

From Balivor it was on to a few more towns and ultimately Galway which boasted a really nice walking street with pubs and shops, and good food and nightlife. We listened to a great 5 man band that were 4 guitars, and a drummer. All played harmonica, and all sang. Thursday night saw fog enter the city of Galway at least from my perspective, but by early afternoon Friday we were on the road again to Roundstones, where Myles' uncle Dennis, had loaned us their shared family vacation house for the weekend.
Roundstones is a fairly quiet town, what stuck out in my mind was the Beaches. Outside of cooler beach temperatures you would think you were on a tropical island at times from the color of the water, how soft the sand was, and the rock that appeared as if it were a reef, or formed through a lava flow. Which of course it wasn't as last I checked there are no volcanoes on Ireland. But you get the picture: