Days in Dingle

I’ve only ever been to Ireland once, and that was a short business trip to Dublin. To be honest, must of the countries I’ve visited have been on business, and you only really get to see the inside of some nondescript office that could be anywhere. At least in Dublin I remember getting to do a tour of the city and spending an evening at a pub. The latter slightly less clear in my memory than the former.

Eddie’s experience with Ireland was a trip with his brother back in 1997 during which it rained consistently and seemed to involve mostly driving long distances and staying in rather horrible budget hotels.*

However, Ireland’s always looked lovely to me, and drawn by the promise of huge sandy beaches, friendly locals and Guinness, I booked us a three day trip to Dingle Bay.

We set off at an eye-watering 4.30am to get to Luton for our Ryanair flight to Kerry. I’ve never flown Ryanair before (or Captain Wang as Richard would say), but it was pretty much the only option so I sucked it up. Actually all went well, we breezed through an empty airport and landed in Kerry on time with a flight time of about an hour – bearable. Then it was another hour to drive to Dingle. I should add that I took the helm, Eddie having conveniently forgotten to bring his driving licence, much to the mirth of the chortling Europcar rep.

We stopped off at Ballyferriter for a medicinal Guinness at one of the four pubs in a town which seemed to have zero inhabitants. We were the only people in the pub. The barmaid came over with a faded menu, then informed us that we wouldn’t be able to order any lunch until the oil for the chips had arrived. Behind us, a large, open bag of unpeeled potatoes sat outside the kitchen looking forlorn. As we finished our pints, the man with the oil turned up, and we beat a hasty retreat and continued on to very edge of the bay where our one bedroom shack for the weekend awaited us.

When I say one bedroom. It was actually one room with a bed. That was all. This I knew. What I hadn’t factored in was the squeeze once we’d deposited our backpacks. You couldn’t have swung a cat. We had to take it in turns to shimmy in and out of the place as and when we needed to.

Now, I’d have thought if you’re going to put on a rental which only has one bed, surely you’d make sure that bed was the most comfortable possible with a high tog goose down duvet and pillows and fabulous sheets and pillow cases – all the bedding bells and whistles.

But the bed was lumpy, with a seventies-esque peach cover and pillows that were like concrete but for the fact they curled up at the ends.

Now here’s the dilemma. In this world of reviews and ratings, I would only have given the place a two (also taking into account the piles of dog poo dotted about on the scrubby grass outside the shack). But wait. If I give the host a two, do I risk a revenge guest review back which could prevent me from getting a decent place for the next holiday? I’ve been bitten by this once before when I scored a cardboard box in France a two and got a guest review of two back despite having left the place spotless.

If I give the place a two, will it have a negative impact on the host’s business? Possibly. But then it might make them buck up the quality of their offering, as well as making sure future guests know what they’re booking.

I got to thinking that there must be lots of people like me out there, overscoring underwhelming properties for the same reasons. Which then means that no one has any way of knowing what’s quality and what’s crap. It’s all a lie. Sigh.

I’m still thinking about it.

Shack and dog sh*t aside, Dingle itself was lovely. The beaches are off the charts. We particularly liked Inch Beach which was massive and deserted. Dolly would have loved it. It was too cold to surf (for us anyway), but that didn’t put hardier souls off.

The town is small but mighty. Full of independent shops, galleries and restaurants. Foxy John’s the stand-out pub for us. The sort of place where you walk in and immediately feel like a local. It used to be an old hardware store, so you have a load of random detritus for the home opposite the bar. The other classic pub is Dick Mack’s, when we went at 5pm on a Saturday it was mega busy, but we sat outside in the yard in a patch of sunlight and that worked for us. Driving along the Wild Atlantic Way, Padi O Se’s pub was a fantastic recommendation by the ladies at the tour guide booth in Dingle. Fish cakes like little fluffy clouds and photos of the great man covering walls and ceiling, but the highlight was a photo of Padi with Dolly Parton! That clinched it for me. We stayed for a light bite but I could have spent all afternoon there to be honest.

Food-wise The Fish Box is a must, and we had a great supper and timed it so we got there at 6pm after the pub to beat the rush or it gets very busy. But the complete stand out food-wise was Out of the Blue on the harbour. We were lucky to have a table in the glass conservatory looking out to sea and enjoyed some of the best seafood I have ever eaten. Off the charts.

All in all a long weekend walking and eating is what I consider to be an excellent use of time. Looking back I’m even able to overlook the seven hour delay in Kerry airport on the way home – surrounded by small children high on Moams and Minecraft.

Still not sure about that AirBnB review. I have until Tuesday to decide what – if anything – do do…