Waterford to Wexford

From Cork, the bus passes through Waterford, to Wexford. So now at the penultimate port of call. Had to wait a couple of hours in Waterford and so looked around the town. 

Waterford waterfront

This is a bank holiday weekend in Ireland so there were a lot of people out and about enjoying the summer weather. Of course this hot spell wont last, in fact the cold wind is back again bringing down the temperature to the levels before the all too short Irish summer. 

Ireland has lots of pubs with interesting names. Come to think of it, there are a lot of pubs here.

Hurling trophy stall in Waterford. The game of hurling is a specialty of this part of the world. Its a game were all the players have to wear helmets and face protectors. Something similar  to hockey except its not against the rules to wack the ball above headheight. 

I finally managed to get into the hostel in Wexford at 5pm after a couple of hours of waiting in the town. Hopefully there will be some Irish music somewhere. This town is where there was one of those rebellions that took place 200 years ago. 

John Kelly

As soon as I saw this statue I knew it must be John Kelly, the Boy from Killanne. The pike he's holding is a dead give away if you happen to know the words of the rebel song about the battle at Wexford and Ross. Kelly came to a very grizzly end at the hands of the British soldiers. That was nothing unusual. 
But the gold sun of Freedom
Grew darkened at Ross,
And it set by the Slaney's red waves;
And poor Wexford, stript naked,
hung high on a cross,
And her heart pierced by traitors and slaves!
Glory O! Glory O!
To her brave sons who died
For the cause of long-down-trodden man!
Glory O! to Mount Leinster's
Own darling and pride

Dauntless Kelly, the Boy from Killanne.

I was rather hoping to find a pub with some music this very evening but unfortunately with the bad information, directions, names etc, I had to give up the quest. It was similar this afternoon when I asked the way to Mary Street, where the hostel is. I followed the instructions to the letter and found myself in Anne Street. Unbeknown to myself, and certainly the helpful but sadly confused gentleman, Mary St was in fact only a few metres from the spot where he gave those invaluable directions. It seems that Irish people are not very good at 'particulars'. 

I have caught some tantalizing glimpses like this around the town so hopefully I 'll be able to find out what lies behind the rooftops.