"Don't Touch My Dingle" is, I believe the title of the city anthem, or was it "Don't Cry for Me, My Dingle"? OK, I just made all that up. I just love the name of this place because it fits somehow. It's Gaelic for his little pink friend. Oh, I blew it. Anyhow, I had actually visited Dingle before, 24 years earlier when I was just a wee lad of none-of-your-f'ing-business, but I was excited to come back with Jamie W. to relive those days of yore on the far side of Ireland. Jamie actually found this hotel which is about the first building you see when you come upon the center of town on Strand Street next to the marina.
From the outside, it's a charming clapboard building. Once you enter, there really isn't a lobby, and it feels a bit dated. Still, we had no complaints about the size of our room, a Double on the second floor overlooking the water for only $117 per night. There was room for a sofa, desk and coffee table (photo: http://bit.ly/2fkdaDG), and the bathroom was equally large. The relatively tame Paudie's Bar is right next door, and we were able to have a pint of Guinness listening to a trio of fine local musicians in a pretty comfortable setting with a whole lotta tourists like us (photo: http://bit.ly/2gcJFbz). Luckily when we turned in, none of the noise from the pub drifted to our room.
The one disappointment was the complimentary breakfast. We both ordered the Dingle Bay Hotel Traditional Irish Breakfast which consisted of a small fried egg, plenty of burnt Canadian bacon, greasy sausage, a tomato half, and a crumbly, inedible pudding (photo: http://bit.ly/2fmkUZi). It just wasn't a great way to start the morning, even though I ran into an old colleague from two jobs ago in San Francisco. This was a person I liked, so it was a treat. I once ran into an old boss on a Thailand beach and thought I was gonna die, but that's another story. They provide free parking in a lot above the hotel where you drive up an adjacent gravel hill. read more