In
Ireland,
getting there is
emphatically
not
half the fun. But
thefrustrations
are more than
compensated
for by the
places—and
people—you encounter. Several moments
stay with
me: The
proprietor
of the Old Presbytery
B&B
in Kinsale who drove several miles
to
his
son' s home
and
back to fetch a
charger for my cell phone.
The garage
mechanic who
looked at my deflated tire
and said, "I'll be
happy to
blow you
up—no charge."
The
Adare Manor bellman
who led me into my
enormous
second-floor suite by
announcing, "When Bill
Clinton came
here
a few
years
back, this is where he
slept—please don't ask me
who with."
Mind you,
I do
not
subscribe
to the
stereotype that
all
Scots are dour and all Irish
are
silly-happy,
but there is an
undeniably brighter
hue to
the Irish face, a
distinct optimism. A
Scotsman
sees clouds
forming and talks
of rain. An
Irishman ignores
the
clouds.
I loved the warmth of
Ireland, her courses,
everything
about her—even more than I
had two
decades
earlier. But the
bottom-line question
still remained:
Is
Ireland Better Than
Scotland
as
a
Destination for
Golfers?
Uh—
no.
