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The Burren
In July and August 2005, I spent two weeks in Ireland. Most of it was with a tour group via a public radio station, before I stayed at a Dublin hostel for three days.
The Burren of Ireland consists of strange and beautiful scenery stretching under an enormous sky. It’s near the Cliffs of Moher in County Clare on Ireland’s west coast. I don’t think I saw any trees — but as I’ve mentioned, the British invaders once upon a time cut down Ireland’s trees and used them to build ships. The tour bus pulled over at the side of a road. Dave (or someone) mentioned that Ireland is basically all limestone under the dirt and greenery.
Today at the Burren I had my first experience with misogynistic blarney in Ireland. So not a fan. What an asshole. No wonder he’s single — not even the most clueless and heterosexual woman would marry such a piece of shit.
The POS Sean at the Burren persuaded Noel to taste a berry with a bizarre bitter taste. She said it was the weirdest thing she’d ever tasted and it made her tongue numb. The POS said, “It makes girls stop talking.”
I said somewhat quietly, “It should make boys stop talking.” Goddess knows, misogynists like him are the ones who need to shut the…