Garry Beach

Garry Beach, originally uploaded by MacIomhair.

Lit Church at Night Bobrka

Lit Church at Night Bobrka, originally uploaded by MacIomhair.

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" It was announced with trumpet-blast from the ramparts and from all the towers that the marriage should be celebrated. The Princess was not quite pleased about it, but she looked charming and was gorgeously dressed. The church shone with candles; it shows best late in the evening. The noble maidens of the town sang and led the bride forward; the knights sang and accompanied the bridegroom. He strutted as if he could never be broken.

Now the singing stopped and one could have heard a pin fall, but in the midst of the silence the great church door flew open with a crash and clatter, and boom! boom! the whole of the clock-work came marching up the passage and planted itself between the bride and bridegroom. Dead men cannot walk again, we know that very well, but a work of art can walk again; the body was knocked to pieces, but not the spirit; the spirit of the work walked, and that in deadly earnest. " - The Most Incredible Thing - Hans Christian Andersen.

Predjama Castle

Predjama Castle, originally uploaded by MacIomhair.

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"DUNCAN: This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.
BANQUO: This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve
By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle;
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed
The air is delicate."
- Macbeth, Act I, Scene VI by William Shakespeare.

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Click here for an online guided tour.

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The castle was once the fief of a robber-baron who would taunt those besieging the castle by sending down fresh fruit to his enemies. This fruit was delivered through a network of secret caves above the fortress. A traitor, paid off by the enemy, advised those laying siege to Predjama that there is one place that even a King must go on foot, alone. When the laird went to the, you know, the the in the middle of the night, the traitor made a signal to the enemies who blasted the smallest room with cannon fire, killing the baron.

What can be seen today is the newer castle, an older one still exists behind the newer facade, delving deeper into the caves behind.

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, originally uploaded by MacIomhair.

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Mercédès jeta un cri qui fit jaillir deux larmes des paupières de Monte-Cristo, mais ces deux larmes disparurent presque aussitôt, car sans doute Dieu avait envoyé quelque ange pour les recueillir, bien autrement précieuses qu'elles étaient aux yeux du Seigneur que les plus riches perles de Gusarate et d'Ophir.
«Oh! s'écria-t-elle en saisissant la main du comte et en la portant à ses lèvres, oh! merci, merci, Edmond! te voilà bien tel que je t'ai toujours rêvé, tel que je t'ai toujours aimé. Oh! maintenant je puis le dire.
—D'autant mieux, répondit Monte-Cristo, que le pauvre Edmond n'aura pas longtemps à être aimé par vous. Le mort va rentrer dans la tombe, le fantôme va rentrer dans la nuit.
—Que dites-vous, Edmond?
—Je dis que puisque vous l'ordonnez, Mercédès, il faut mourir.
—Mourir! et qui est-ce qui dit cela? Qui parle de mourir? d'où vous reviennent ces idées de mort?
—Vous ne supposez pas qu'outragé publiquement, en face de toute une salle, en présence de vos amis et de ceux de votre fils, provoqué par un enfant qui se glorifiera de mon pardon comme d'une victoire, vous ne supposez pas, dis-je, que j'aie un instant le désir de vivre. Ce que j'ai le plus aimé après vous, Mercédès, c'est moi-même, c'est-à-dire ma dignité, c'est-à-dire cette force qui me rendait supérieur aux autres hommes; cette force, c'était ma vie. D'un mot vous la brisez. Je meurs.
—Mais ce duel n'aura pas lieu, Edmond, puisque vous pardonnez.
—Il aura lieu, madame, dit solennellement Monte-Cristo, seulement, au lieu du sang de votre fils, que devait boire la terre, ce sera le mien qui coulera.»
Mercédès poussa un grand cri et s'élança vers Monte-Cristo; mais tout à coup elle s'arrêta.
«Edmond, dit-elle, il y a un Dieu au-dessus de nous, puisque vous vivez, puisque je vous ai revu, et je me fie à lui du plus profond de mon cœur. En attendant son appui, je me repose sur votre parole. Vous avez dit que mon fils vivrait; il vivra, n'est-ce pas?
—Il vivra, oui, madame», dit Monte-Cristo, étonné que, sans autre exclamation, sans autre surprise, Mercédès eût accepté l'héroïque sacrifice qu'il lui faisait.
Mercédès tendit la main au comte.
«Edmond, dit-elle, tandis que ses yeux se mouillaient de larmes en regardant celui auquel elle adressait la parole, comme c'est beau de votre part, comme c'est grand ce que vous venez de faire là, comme c'est sublime d'avoir eu pitié d'une pauvre femme qui s'offrait à vous avec toutes les chances contraires à ses espérances! Hélas! je suis vieillie par les chagrins plus encore que par l'âge, et je ne puis même plus rappeler à mon Edmond par un sourire, par un regard, cette Mercédès qu'autrefois il a passé tant d'heures à contempler. Ah! croyez-moi, Edmond, je vous ai dit que, moi aussi, j'avais bien souffert; je vous le répète, cela est bien lugubre de voir passer sa vie sans se rappeler une seule joie, sans conserver une seule espérance, mais cela prouve que tout n'est point fini sur la terre. Non! tout n'est pas fini, je le sens à ce qui me reste encore dans le cœur. Oh! je vous le répète, Edmond, c'est beau, c'est grand, c'est sublime de pardonner comme vous venez de le faire! - Le Compte de Monte-Cristo - Alexandre Dumas

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Translation used by Project Guttenberg:

Mercedes uttered a cry which made the tears start from Monte Cristo's eyes; but these tears disappeared almost instantaneously, for, doubtless, God had sent some angel to collect them -- far more precious were they in his eyes than
the richest pearls of Guzerat and Ophir.
"Oh," said she, seizing the count's hand and raising it to her lips; "oh, thank you, thank you, Edmond! Now you are exactly what I dreamt you were, -- the man I always loved. Oh, now I may say so!"
"So much the better," replied Monte Cristo; "as that poor Edmond will not have long to be loved by you. Death is about to return to the tomb, the phantom to retire in darkness."
"What do you say, Edmond?"
"I say, since you command me, Mercedes, I must die."
"Die? and why so? Who talks of dying? Whence have you these ideas of death?"
"You do not suppose that, publicly outraged in the face of a whole theatre, in the presence of your friends and those of your son -- challenged by a boy who will glory in my forgiveness as if it were a victory -- you do not suppose that I can for one moment wish to live. What I most loved after you, Mercedes, was myself, my dignity, and that strength which rendered me superior to other men; that strength was my life. With one word you have crushed it, and I die."
"But the duel will not take place, Edmond, since you forgive?"
"It will take place," said Monte Cristo, in a most solemn tone; "but instead of your son's blood to stain the ground, mine will flow." Mercedes shrieked, and sprang towards Monte Cristo, but, suddenly stopping, "Edmond," said she, "there is a God above us, since you live and since I have seen you again; I trust to him from my heart. While waiting his assistance I trust to your word; you have said that my son should live, have you not?"
"Yes, madame, he shall live," said Monte Cristo, surprised that without more emotion Mercedes had accepted the heroic sacrifice he made for her. Mercedes extended her hand to the count.
"Edmond," said she, and her eyes were wet with tears while looking at him to whom she spoke, "how noble it is of you, how great the action you have just performed, how sublime to have taken pity on a poor woman who appealed to you with every chance against her, Alas, I am grown old with grief more than with years, and cannot now remind my Edmond by a smile, or by a look, of that Mercedes whom he once spent so many hours in contemplating. Ah, believe me, Edmond, as I told you, I too have suffered much; I repeat, it is melancholy to pass one's life without having one joy to recall, without preserving a single hope; but that proves that all is not yet over. No, it is not finished; I feel it by what remains in my heart. Oh, I repeat it, Edmond; what you have just done is beautiful -- it is grand; it is sublime." - The Count of Monte-Cristo - Alexandre Dumas.

River

River, originally uploaded by MacIomhair.

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The Sea