Much Ado About Doolin

'Lets go away for a few days'

How could I say no? Two days home from Kerry my sister arrives into the house on the beginning of her week's holidays from work and suggests the two of us heading off for a few sisterly days down the country. Having never been on holidays alone with my only sibling, I was sceptical, but gone are the days when we couldn't spend two hours together without shouting abuse at each other, and it turns out it was a fantastic two days.

We had been so many times to the popular west coastal town of Galway, and thought a change was in order, so we chose the picturesque little village of Doolin in county Clare. Its a favourite of our parents, and a popular backpacking site for those who wish to see the old Ireland full of misty mountains, old cottages and brick walls that lead to nowhere. We drove down on Thursday morning, and I am not sure what I expected, but what I got was quite surprising. For those of you who haven't been to Doolin, it is tiny, and I mean tiny. Its one street of about 5 pubs, a few cafes and numerous B&Bs and hostels. No shop. No pharmacy. No ATM. No garage. We initially thought we were insane, but it turns out the pubs serve the most gorgeous food and have a great atmospheres at night when all the tourists arrive in to eat stew and listen to what we Irish call diddly idle music (traditional 3 or 4 piece group playing Irish music).

We spent out first day in Lahinch, which saw us braving the Clare mountains in a dense fog. The solution we ingeniously came up with was to follow the large green 'Paddy Wagon' tourist bus which we were convinced for no reason was on the same route as us. We found ourselves on the dangerously windy cliff's of Moher with no idea where we were going and no phone signal to even make a call, let alone get GPS coordinates. Much panic and sub sequential giddyness later we found ourselves in Lahinch, a beautiful seaside town which is known for its incredible surfing beach. Although the weather wasn't exactly in agreement with this claim to fame, and we spent our time sitting in a cafe with a hot cup of tea watching surfers being blown off their boards and laughing cruelly at their attempt to overcome Irish weather.

After a night of tapping to music and drinking far too many glasses of wine, we found ourselves toddling home on a pitch black deserted country road back to our hostel talking to cows we were convinced were humans and being scared by fellow toddlers that we were convinced were cows. Tip; if staying in a hostel anywhere in Ireland that is not in a city, make sure its in some sort of lit village. The 'down the pitch black lane Irish country feel' hostels can threaten your sanity as well as your life.

The following day we headed off to Doolin Cave where we descended 200 or so steps and walked 3kms into the ground to see the biggest stalactite in Europe (for those like me who only see white rocks, stalactites are the ones that hang from the roof .... I think). I have to say, it was pretty impressive, and the guide, although a little overanimated and rehearsed, was very informative and kept the tour interesting despite the simplicity of the cave. We headed on from here with a map from the cave's shopkeeper in search of a house. Now, this is no ordinary house. Oh no. This is Father Ted's house. For those of your who don't know who Father Ted is, shame on you. SHAME. Father Ted was a fantastic comedy tv show which told the antics of two priests on an island off the coast of Ireland. It made clergymen in Ireland look shameful, and made everyone else double over with laughter. After a good 2 hours of driving and consulting a local shop worker, we found the house 4 miles down the smallest road, and suitably stood like idiots in front of it taking pictures while the kids who lived there played hurling in the garden with the dogs.

We went from there on to have lunch at a local lake which is a hidden gem in these parts. There were only a handful of people around, and the view was nothing short of a postcard. We sat ourselves down on some picnic benches and ate our Spar roles and regretted not being elderly-like and bringing a flask of tea.

We finished off our great two days with a shared pizza and a few drinks in one of the locals with a good bout of sisterly gossiping before heading off home the next morning to return to reality. Again, I was shown that a good break away doesn't have to mean planes, trains and automobiles. 2 and a half hours of a journey away is a wealth of beauty and holiday atmosphere, even if it does involve fog, roads to nowhere and Father Ted.

Slán.