Neil is off to Ireland for the week, to play the Guinness Jazz Festival. Actually, at the moment he's en route to JFK from which he will fly to Boston and then, after a three hour layover, he heads to Shannon. Anything to save a buck, according to the person-who-plans-his-travel.
The festival takes place in County Cork, which is actually Murphy's Stout territory. Apparently the rivalry between Guinness and Murphy's is akin to Yankees/Red Sox -- to the degree that people (mostly older gentlemen who spend a lot of time in pubs wearing caps) actually leave the county during this festival.
I had my very first pint of Guinness a little over a year ago, moments after we arrived in Dublin. And I grew accustomed to the perfect pours and the blackness of the Guinness in Ireland; have yet to find a pub in NY that elevates it to the art form that the Irish do. I'm sure it's out there, but Irish pubs in this city are a far, far cry (charm- and clientele-wise) from the ones there.
The day we arrived in Dublin was another fine example of saving a buck on travel. We had breakfast in Norway, lunch in England, and dinner in Ireland ... 'twas an adventure.
More soon.
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