Jamie and Jansie's Very Good Adventure (#momweek2014 p.5)

I've gotta be honest, Ireland gets more beautiful by the second, but sometimes, it all kind of blends in to a lovely blur of green.

For that reason, I don't have a map tracker, but I do know we at least hit up Dunluce Castle, Buschmills Distillery, and Slemish Mountain.

At Dunluce, we climbed all over. I enjoyed climbing down into Mermaid's Cave, and Jansie enjoyed climbing up to an overlook point.

Loathe is a good word for how I feel about heights. My imagination starts going crazy with death scenarios, but I couldn't let myself be out-adventured by my mom, so up I went with her.

On the Buschmill's tour, we learned how scottish whiskey is different from Irish, how all Buschmill's whiskey is distilled right there on the North Coast using pre-loved barrels and river water (the whole process is actually super interesting), and how they bottle to the exact order, not in mass hopes.

Next, we headed off to find "The Dark Hedges." They're these twisty, gorgeous trees planted as an entrance to Gracehill Mansion long, long ago. I love this selfie of us. Jansie can't ever figure out where the camera is, and it just cracks me up.

The best part is, when I got home, I realized I had pinned that location on my Pinterest board twice. I love the feeling of dreaming something up and then actually doing it. Kind of like my lifelong obsession with Paris (fulfilled!) or like moving here. I've got others, but they're still in the dreamy, undone phase.

Back to the journey!
Slemish Mountain (the place where St. Patrick shepherded as part of his slavery), was just lovely, but more about that on Saturday. I'm going hiking with Naomi.

Our food option today was in Ballymena (which I found no issue with, but everyone makes fun of Ballymena. It's like the Claremore, Oklahoma equivalent. Backcountry-like).

It was called "The Big House," and the employees and customers alike must have been in jail because it was desolate when we showed up.

Neither of us knew what the heck "gammon" was, but we both got it. An enormous slab of ham is the answer.

The best part of the meal, though, was when about 20 large, rugby-sized men came in all banter and whatnot. So much cursing, which, to be honest, is both completely culturally acceptable and just so darn funny with their accent.

Finally, when some additional getting lost and personal anxiety attacks (truly, I was a wretched passenger), we made it home. Well, my home that is.