Day 115: Lough Key - Clonmacnoise - Malahide

The day dawned overcast, as is quite normal in Ireland. I don't even bother looking at the sky anymore: either it's raining, or it's about to rain, or it looks like it's going to rain. Anyway, at half past eleven we set off south. More than a hundred kilometers and almost two hours later, we arrived at Clonmacnoise, which sounds like a footballer's surname but is actually a medieval monastery.

Founded back in the 6th century, this place was for centuries the Harvard of the monks: here they studied, prayed, and carved crosses that are still planted today like stone giants. We first entered the museum, with display cases full of relics and crosses carved with infinite patience. I confess that I fell asleep during the audiovisual projection, because hey, the carpet was soft and the narrator's voice was better than a lullaby. But then came the interesting part: the open-air ruins. Roofless churches, a cemetery with crooked tombstones and those tall crosses that look like antennas waiting for a signal from the sky. We walked for an hour and a half among ancient stones and solemn silence, although I, just in case, marked territory in a corner.

Ten minutes by car later, we stopped next to a field where the humans were extracting peat. Here I was mesmerized watching them pile up brown blocks as if they were bricks. They explained to me that the "bogs" are swamps that formed over thousands of years, and that from there they extract peat, which used to be used to heat houses and is now mostly preserved by tradition. It seemed to me like luxurious land for burying bones, but it turns out it's not for dogs but for fireplaces.

After eating and napping in the camper, we went back on the road. An hour of narrow curves that looked like they were made by a labyrinth designer, and then finally the highway. We stopped at a service station called Applegreen. For me there were no apples or green, but the humans took advantage of the free shower. When they came back they smelled of soap and looked ready for a shampoo commercial... if it weren't for the fact that they are both bald. They could still advertise the towel, though.

The last stretch took us straight to Malahide, on the outskirts of Dublin, where we parked next to the estuary. We have slept here before, so it's like arriving at our second home. Eight more campers keep us company in the row, all looking at the sea as if they were waiting for a pirate ship to appear.

The night ended with a classic: a Derry Girls session on the camper's big screen. My humans put up a protector that turns the wall into a home cinema, and there they spend entire episodes laughing at the antics of those Derry teenagers who survive between exams, hormones and the backdrop of a historical conflict. I settle into my corner, listen to the laughter and think that we like Ireland very much... although tomorrow it will surely rain again.