Ireland - first stop, Hill of Tara

The Hill of Tara - the seat of the high kings of Ireland for centuries, if not millenia. We decided it would be a good first stop once we got off the plane and into our snazzy rental car, to orient ourselves and set foot directly onto the ancient history of this place.

 They say that from the top of the hill, on a clear day (which you'll get once a decade), 

you can see most of the counties of Ireland.

It's hard to find. Mom and I got hopelessly, wondrously, magnificently lost the first two times we tried to find it. We've driven every single backroad and boreen in the surrounding county. This time, we only had to do two turn-arounds on the M1 (and go through the toll booth three times) and one turn-around on the M3 (through the toll booth twice) and there it was. A sign to Tara, with an arrow. Getting lost was not really our fault, we discovered. Our map was one of the ones accidentally printed with "Tara" on it twice. (Thus Mom's famous quote from our 2006 trip: slamming down the map on her lap..."Well where's the goddamn Hill of Tara? And if there's two of them on the map, why aren't they called the HILLS of Tara???")

Sheila was exhausted from the trip and decided to nap in the back of the car instead 

of traipse through the sheep pasture toward the monuments. But she bought us these 

magnetic signposts to help us get us find the hill.

Despite what you may think this is (ahem), it's called the Lia Fail, the Stone of Destiny.

It's the coronation tone for the kings, and sings only for the royalty of Ireland.

It doesn't sing for me. But Mom says it roars for her. 

And that from now on, she would like to be referred to as "The Queen Mother,"

thank you very much.

One of the oldest Sheela na Gigs (an ancient female fertility symbol) in Ireland.

If not THE oldest. Much loved and nearly rubbed off from worship.

See her face?

I tied a ribbon to the fairy wishing tree on the hill.

Adding my wishes for joy, healing and blessings to the hundreds and hundreds 

of others fluttering in the Irish wind on the Hill of Tara.

We're in Glendlough, County Wicklow, now. Nestled in a gorgeous little B&B called, appropriately, the "Dunroamin House" - I was soooo done roamin' when we got here yesterday. Could not drive another kilometer, could barely keep my eyes open after a mere 3 hours of sleep in 24 hours. After a great night's sleep and a hearty Irish breakfast, now we're off to explore the ancient monastic site here and commune with the high cross.

And be, we three. Most importantly, just be.

Stay tuned for more Irish adventures...