I'm not sure if "gobsmacked" is used in Ireland as much as it is in Britain, but they do have the BBC here (Northern Ireland even has its own BBC, which is broadcast all over the island) and they use it all the time. As you know, I'm sure, it means "surprised, shocked, overwhelmed" and Cashel here in the midlands can do that to you. More important it is fun to say. Go ahead, say it with me: "Gobsmacked". See?

Cashel is gorgeous. It is dominated by the Rock of Cashel, known simply as The Rock, which is a natural limestone crag that has been used since before recorded history as a fortification. The ancient peoples built a wall around the top, which is flat, and then in the early 12th century the local Munster King built a tall, skinny round tower, like a minaret. At the end of the same century the rock was given over to the church and they built a stone chapel and huge celtic cross. By the 15th century there was a huge cathedral complete with gothic architecture influenced by Irsh traditional crafts. These took the form of carved stone faces on the corners and doors of the building. Also by this time the vicar's residence, a long narrow but impressive building had been built. All of this on the top of this windswept rise that drops off suddenly on the far side. You can see for miles. Now you must understand, they don't really have mountains in Ireland. When I say "mountains" I think of something like "The Rockies" through western America and Canada. What they have here are like the foothills. Gorgeous but not tall. So this crag is a real find and was no doubt prized for the vantage point it affords of the surrounding countryside. Being there alone, as the wind howls around the ruins of the buildings, these tall stone walls bare to the sky, with carved stone heads peering down at you - it gets eerie. Wonderful, though.

Read on to hear about St. Patrick's triumphant visit there - and how it could have killed the king who welcomed him.

OK, so that might be a bit overdramatic, but there is an interesting story about St. Patrick and the Rock of Cashel. Like I said, it was a fortress from ancient times, a stonghold of Kings. This was back when Ireland was more tribal and had many kings that controlled small areas. In 450 A.D. St. Patrick (who had returned to Ireland after becoming a monk abroad) came to the Rock of Cashel and blessed and converted the Munster King. He was the first Christian King in Ireland. The ceremony of conversion was more painful than he expected or St. Patrick intended. As the story goes, St. Patrick accidently drove the sharp end of his stave (the cermonaial staff) into the bare foot of the king as he sat to receive his blessing. The King, however, far from crying out or beheading the poor Saint for this, said not a word, thinking it was part of the ceremony. He entered into the Christian faith with a horrible wound in his foot, not unlike one of the wounds Christ endured on the cross. He no doubt thought that was the connection. How could it have killed him you ask? Well, infection! Blood poisoning! A stave end that is on the ground all the time, same is true of a bare foot - you do the math. Granted it may be a stretch, but not impossible. Thankfully the King lived, St. Patrick went on to convert many more Kings and is now the Patron Saint of Ireland! Now if that isn't a happy ending I don't know what is.

Here's my Irish travel tip for the day - eat dinner early. If you want to buy hot food in the market, like Supervalu (no "e"), their big grocery chain, arrive before five. No pasties or hot chicken after that. That part of the market shuts down. I went into a market just after six one night and found myself saying, "Do you have any hot food this time of night?" The clerk seemed to think it odd that anyone would require hot food that late. "I could make ya a sandwhich," he offered. Even restaurants seem to close earlier than they do in my home town, and are generally closed before some would open in Barcelona, where they don't eat dinner till 9 pm. All the museums close, and the town is dead by 8 pm. Except for pubs, especially in the big cities. But most other things are gone.

Ireland (according to my own observations and the Irish people I've spoken to) tends to live a little earlier in the day then I do. They get up early, have a hearty breakfast (though there is more cereal available now), work from 7am to 3pm, eat dinner around 5, have tea and digestive biscuits (which are really cookies) a bit later and then go to bed early. I'm more likely to eat Brunch, snack a bit and have a late supper, but I'm learning to live on Irish time. Of course soon I'll be on Scottish time and then even more removed to Japanese time, so we'll see how it goes. I'll adjust, I'm sure.

Here's my second tip for the day, which come to think of it contradicts the first - sleep late. Most bed and breakfasts and hotels serve the morning meal till 10 or 11, and (at least in March) that is when all the rain, cold and wind happpen. Sleep through the bad weather I say. I guess my final tip is - see Ireland between the hours of 11 and 5. Most towns are small enough that that is possible, actually, especially if you have a few days there.

Cashel is the smallest place I've been yet and I think it is my favorite. The main drag stops almost as soon as it begins. You get going, you think "Oh yes, good start to a walk," and then the town is gone and the fields start. Very cozy that way. There are plenty of B&Bs (well, 5 or so) a Spar (their 7/11, but more fruit, cheese and healthy food) and a Supervalu. They have a charming visitor's center describing the history of the region, good bus service and of course, The Rock. What more do you want? I highly reccommend it. Stay at the Ashmore House. Laura and Brendan Ryan run it and are very kind and helpful. It is on John Street, a block of the main drag so it is nice and quiet, but still close to everything. And they offer lots of homecooked food for breakfast, beyond just the traditional Iriah breakfast. Say Hi for me when you go. And pet Dipsy, their sweet little dog. Oh I miss it already.