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Thursday, 16 August 2001
The Journey
7:53 AM - Preparations
I'm packed, prepped, locked and loaded. Now there
is a brief lull before the adventure begins . . . and I start to realize
just what I forgot to pack.
Still to surreal to get excited. At least I had a
good nights sleep.
11:45 AM - Waiting to leave
Work is all buttoned up now. I've been looking at
the map to see where I want to go on Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday
after the tour. A futile exercise; I won't really know what I want to do
or can do until the time actually arrivesover a week from now!
3:15 PM - So much for Carry-On luggage
I had to relinquish my carry-on at the British
Air counter, as it wouldn't fit into the "Carry-on luggage must fit
in here" checker. I don't mind; I was already getting tired of
lugging it around. In theory, I'll be able to pick it up in Shannon.
7:20 PM EST - Sleepless
So much for my plan to catch a few Z's on the
flight. First they gave me a drink, then they are serving dinner and prior
to touch down we're getting breakfast. Besides all that, I'm in a window
seat and, unlikely as it seems, there is a view. Currently we're flying
over Halifax, NS. It's only a six-hour
flight so there will be little time for napping. Screw that anyway! I'm on
vacation!
8:15 PM EST - Flying into night
A great meal, a few drinks, some coffee, and it
is pitch black outside. At home, I would be out on the balcony enjoying
the sunset. Here, I think it must be 10 PM or so.
6:19 AM GMT - London Heathrow, NOT a good idea!
So much for my "I'll get to look out the
windows, take a few photos and say I saw England" idea. Heathrowthanks to about 5 jumbo jets landing right about when we didwas a mad house. And BIG!! I had to wait in a long line for a
shuttle, then hike all over looking for gate 90, which was way, way out in
the terminal's terminus. I had to rush just to get here in time and the
immigration lady was quite put out that I couldn't give details about
where my tour group was staying. I didn't dare tell her my plans for the
rest of the days. At least I got another stamp on my passport, but it was
so not worth it. I'm frazzled, thirsty and would like to make a pit stop.
Maybe in the next country.
Friday, 17 August 2001
Limerick
Saturday, 18 August, 8:57 AM - God Bless America!
Here I am in Limerick and I'm sitting in, of all
places, a McDonalds.
Food here is difficult. I went out yesterday in
search of a store and some sustenance but all I discovered is that the
pubs here do not sell food. I stopped in for a pint, discovered this
little fact and was going to leave to attempt to locate a real restaurant
but instead ended up having a lively time with a Joe Quinn and his
quasi-girlfriend, Louis. We drank and talked until about 6 PM, at which
time, quite sotted and feeling the jet lag, I stumbled back to the Royal
George Hotel (where I had previously secured lodging) for some sleep.
I slept soundly until midnight, then fitfully
until 3 AM or so. I got up at 8:00 and still felt a little out of synch.
Nothing too bad but, boy, was I hungry! I tried a few places but they
looked odd and I wasn't sure how to go about getting seated, etc., so,
confused, I retreated. I was fairly faint with hunger and then found a
McDonalds!
So now, fed and primed with coffee (as lousy here
as it is in the US McDonalds, I might add) I'm off to see some sights and
return to Shannon to locate my tour
Saturday, 18 August 2001
Shannon - Westport
2:30 PM - Shannon Airport
Back again, looking for my tour group. It was so
strange, coming to Ireland. Twelve hours of travelmuch of it boring, some of it hectic, all of it tiringthen, suddenly, here I am. My first glimpse of Ireland was
through a break in the clouds as we were coming in to land. Through a sea
of unbroken white cotton, I suddenly saw the trademark emerald green of
the rolling, stone-fence lined fields where clusters of cows grazed
contentedly.
It was so bright and sunny, not like I had been
warned. Then, just as the reason for all of the sunshine was occurring to
me, the plane descended through the clouds and landed in the gray,
drizzling, Irish dawn. It's been drizzling ever since.
Limerick is a dreary place, lacking the
population or ambition to be truly dreadful like our American cities. Yet
it possesses a tenacious beauty that continually refuses to be conquered
despite the best efforts of the weather and dreary cityscapes.
Despite the rain, Limerick was fun. I got to meet
some nice people and toured a real, live castle. I hope the rest of my
stay is as good.
Sunday, 19 August 2001
Croagh Patrick
7:48 AM - I'm a moron!
As if I haven't done this so many times I should
expect it and plan a way to keep it from happening . . . I managed to
leave ALL my stuff in Limerick. My shaver, my adapters, my toothbrush,
toothpaste, aspirin, etc. I'm trying to see if the hotel still has it and
if they will forward it on to me, but for now I'm going to have to attempt
to make do and improvise.
9:05 AM - Weather Report
It's going to be a wet one!
Update: Still no word on my stuff but, hey, it's
only stuff. I'm going to want the shaver and adapters back, but the rest
of the items I can buy tonight for a few pounds. No worries.
It's raining fairly well. Bob, my roommate, tells
me it rained quite hard throughout the night. We were going to give the
mountain a miss due to the bad weather but, ironically, it is so bad that
the other hikes have been flooded out so now we've no choice but to go up
the mountain in the rain. The view is gonna suck!
11:20 AM - Croagh Patrick Summit
Well, I wanted to experience Ireland! It rained
pretty steadily for the first hour then, mercifully, stopped. It's just
VERY misty and breezy. On the lee side it's okay, but at the top at there
is a stiff wind blowing shards of cold mist along the rocky ground.
Visibility is about 15 meters. I'm the only one up here; all the others
fell behind. Some we lost even before we were half way up. I wonder how
long it will take them to get here.
Speaking of The Group: mostly folks older than me
but, naturally, in good health. There is a family hereMargaret and her husband, Terry (a cigar smoker, happily
enough) and their 13 year old daughter, Lottie. Other than that there is
one single gal who is younger than I am. Otherwise, I'm the youngest here.
On a good note, they are all swell folks and favor the pint or two after
dinner, so things could be worse.
12:30 PM - The Miracle of St. Patrick
The Croagh Patrick hike turned out all right. The
day finally became sunny and warm but not before we were halfway back down
the mountain. It wouldn't have made any difference, however, as the summit
remained shrouded in clouds.
At the top, the fog was so thick I didn't even
know I was sitting about 20 meters from a large, white chapel. When the
others arrived, we located it and explored a bit. I got a few photos of
the mist-shrouded summit, then went with some of the others to peek inside
the church. It was all we could do with the view blocked.
At the chapel door was a small opening in the
concrete wall. The sign above it read "Offerings." I had come
3,000 miles, hiked up a steep trail in the rain and wind and fog to see
nothing but rocks, so I had no reason to feel charitable. Still, I took a
pound from my pocket, set it on the edge of the hole and let it roll in.
As soon as I heard the clunk of the coin hitting the offering box, the sun
broke through a rend in the clouds. I scrambled back up to the summit and,
as I watched, the mist opened, revealing Ireland's green hills and silver
lakes. It lasted for the briefest of moments and I was the only one to see
it.
I guess that's what a pound to St. Patrick gets
you. I should have slipped in a fiver.
Monday, 20 August 2001
The Slough of Despond
7:35 AM - Hike #2
It's a better day today, for now, at least. The
weather here is so changeable it could be raining at any time.
No climbing today, the promised. Yesterday wasn't
so bad but coming back down the mountain didn't do my knee any good, and
my pain and anti-inflammatory meds were also left back in Limerick.
After yesterday's hike, I had to hike into Westport (about a mile and a
half away) to pick up some sundries. I managed to get most of what I
needed and stopped for a pint. After dinner, a bunch of us returned to the
pub for a few. There were only six of us left by the time we called it a
nighttwo of the couples and Shonagh and myself, so we got to chat a
bit on the walk home which always, for some reason, seems to go by too
quickly.
I am continually struck by how much Ireland looks
like home. There are more stone fences here, to be sure, and more sheep,
but if you ignore the unmistakably Irish houses and such and just look at
the gentle green hills and valleys and the distant mountains, you cannot
argue that it does not closely resemble my home in southern Columbia
county with its fields, cow pastures and view of the Catskill Mountains.
The weather, however, is vastly different here.
It was sunny when I got up and, right now, it's raining.
1:05 PM - The Western Way
It turned out to be a beautiful day. We walked a
great deal of "Boggy Bits" that looked remarkably like the
Adirondacks, then we came to a logging road which lead to a proper roadin Irish terms, that is. It was a single lane of pavement
winding around the side of a mountain bordered by a stone wall overlooking
the prettiest green valley I have ever seen. This is Ireland! Like nothing
I have every seen; a landscape that could not be mistaken for anything
else.
So far we've crossed a stream and climbed most of
the way out of the valley. After this, we go back down, round a lake and
then through "The Really Boggy Bit."
Post Script
The hill we went up and ate lunch at the top of
turned out to be quite a hill. Where we ate was barely half was, no, a
third of the way up. The trek to the top rivaled the climb to Croagh
Patrick's summitonly with bog instead of loose rocks. At the top, we were
afforded one of the most breathtaking views to date.
Then we had to go down the other side. It was
steep and covered in wet grass and bogs. People slid, people fell, peopleone by onejoined "The Wet Bum Club." My knee began acting up
badly due to the descent and terrain until I was forced to accept help in
the form of an ace bandage and some chewable Ibuprofen. It did little
good.
At the base, we hiked the rim of Lough
Lugacolliwee and entered "The Boggy Bit."
Up until then, I had no idea what a boggy bit
was. I was mistaking the swampy, grassland for bog. What Jon was talking
about, however, was a real boga vast expanse of brown, spongy peat that seemed to stretch on
for miles. We regarded it with a collective groan and ploughed ahead.
It was firmer than it appearedwhich was fortunate or we all would have disappeared into the
mirebut it was still like walking on sopping, brown sponge. The
only way across was to put on foot ahead of the other. And this I kept
doing.
Eventually, due to my knee, I fell to the rear of
the group with the rest of the "walking wounded."
After what seemed an interminable time, we emerged, only to find even more
wet and treacherous grasslands. It became like a military maneuver, where
the point man would stumble into an ambush or onto a land mine. We walked
in single file, then the point would momentarily disappear from view and
we'd hear the cry "Hole!" or "Slippery bit!" The point
would join "The Wet Bum Club" and the rest of us would avoid the
hazard.
In this way we slowly traversed the field. At the
far end, tantalizingly close to the road out, we came up against what can
only be described as a small pond with grass growing in it. There was
nothing to be done but slog through. It turned out to be an advantage,
however, as our feet couldn't really get any wetter at that point and it
served to clean off our shoes and boots.
There were a few more fences to scale and then we
were on a broad path that lead us shortly to a narrow road. Our journey
was supposed to take us another mile or three along that road but our
driver did us a kindness and drove in to pick us up. We were an hour
behind schedule, so it was to his advantage as well. I think we were all
glad to get on the bus.
A shower and change of clothes put everything
right. Bob gave me some meds and Judith has some anti-inflammatory cream
that seemed to help. After dinner, Judith and Shonagh and I returned to
the pub while the rest of the group explored Westport.
Tuesday, 21 August 2001
The Wimpy American
8:57 AM - Change of Plans
At least I made up my mind last night and even
told people I was staying behind today. I figured, whether my knee felt
better or not, a 13 and a half-mile walk through the bogs was not going to
help it. A day's rest would put me in good stead for the 1,280-foot climb
on Wednesday and sharply decrees the chances of my knee giving way.
Then, when morning arrived, the weather was foul.
Rain, high winds, low clouds. It is not an inviting day for a walk so I am
just as glad I can't go.
3:15 PM - The Sheebeen Pub
I took a taxi to town in the driving rain and
tried to hire a car but there were none to be had. Just as well, my plan
to visit Ballina was a fool's errand and I probably would have been a
danger on these roads.
I walked about a bit and got soaked, despite my
umbrella due to the rain and fierce winds. I managed to get most of my
shopping done and even found an Internet cafι where I checked my e-mail
and wrote a few of the folks back home. I had some luncha nice Irish stewand then the sun appeared.
With it came an astounding number of tourists and automobiles, to the
point where I was wishing it would rain again so I could have the streets
more to myself. Eventually, I got tired of being jostled and trying in
vain to cross the streets so I called a cab.
It's funny here when you call for a taxi; they
seem to know everyone by name and when I told them I needed to get to
Belcare they wanted to know whose house.
"Oh, Gerry Greensmyth's place. Okay, we'll
be right there."
I had the taxi wait while I dropped off my bags,
then had him bring me here. I needed to try to get a little Irish flavor.
So far, I have been singularly unimpressed with
Ireland. Maybe I expected too much; far, it's been a lot like home, only
with funny accents and monopoly money.
In Westport I heard about every language and
accent except Irish and I spend all day and night listening to various
British accents. So much so that I am actually beginning to speak like
them.
The group is still getting on well, though I
guess for a week most anyone can get along. They are all a bit of all
right and Judith and Shonagh and I are getting fairly tight due to our
drinking forays. I've had great conversations with all of them and Lottie,
the daughter, is a beautiful and bright young lady. Her dad is the cigar
smoker and her mom is very nice.
Lottie, Shonagh and I got a bit silly last night
at dinner, comparing who could cross their eyes, roll their tongues and
flip their eyelids over. It was all quite juvenile but fun.
Tonight is our last night here. Tomorrow is a
1,200-foot climb. I bought a knee brace and more meds; I just hope my knee
doesn't give in. At the end of that hike, we go to a P.O.S.H. hotel. First
on my agenda is a laundry.
5:55 PM - Thoughts on Ireland
There appears to be no clean water in Ireland.
The River Shannon, as it courses through Limerick, is little more than a
trough of brown sludge with a horrific stench. The ocean here in Westport,
as it ebbs and flows across the tidal pools, is likewise brown and murky,
giving off an unpleasant odor with just a hint of salt smell. The rivulets
and streams we have encountered hikingand they have been numeroushave all, thanks to the peat and tons of sheep dung on the
ground, been the color of extremely potent tea.
There appears to be no dry land in Ireland,
either. Even an inviting meadow is, in reality, a soggy morass of weeds
and muck just lying in wait for someone foolish enough to attempt a
crossing.
This is my 5th day in Ireland; I could go home tomorrow and not feel
cheated.
Staying at a B&B feels a bit like sleeping in
other people's houses. This has the same flavor as a trip to a distant
relative's house, or staying with the friend of a friendawkward, inconvenient and slightly embarrassing.
Right now, I'm sitting in the drawing room (my
term) waiting on dinner. Dinner is at 7:00, Breakfast at 8:00. There is no
coming and going as one pleases. I rather liked the Royal George Hotel,
and it was only £49 a night.
The others are beginning to gather now. Mostly
they keep to their roomsbeing mostly couplesbut I like to give Bob some time to himself and I like to sit
and relax and write.
Our leader, Jon, is beginning to get sick. He has
a cold that appears to be worsening.
Wednesday, 22 August 2001
The Death March
7:45 AM - Waiting for Breakfast
I'm feeling better today. I think the rest did me
good yesterday; my knee feels fine (though I still have a stiff muscle or
two). Even so, I put the knee brace on; we'll see if it helps any.
We went to a play in Westport last night; it was great. Just to be there
with all the locals at a local theatre group production was so neat, and
the acting and subject matter of the play being above average only added
to it.
Only Judith, Shonagh, Bob and myself went. The
others were to go into Westport but mostly they all stayed in or just went
down to the Sheebeen.
After the play, we stopped at Horan's for one.
Judith tells me that it's the pub owned by Chieftain Matt Molloy but I
told her I think that might be a different pub called "Matt
Malloy's" down the street. But this is Ireland, who can really know?
There is talk of changing the hike again today. I
guess the official route may still be under water, and I think Jon isn't
too keen on these wet and boggy routes as much now that his cold is in
full bloom.
Post Script
We went on the prescribed hike and Jon's cold
didn't slow him down a bit.
I've given up trying to judge the weather, it
changes so rapidly. In the morning, it was a fine day, then rain and wind
came. As our hike began, it was just windy but clear enough to offer us
fine views. Then it began to rain. Later, it turned into the most glorious
afternoon and early evening.
The views were stunning, or would have been if we
could have looked up. After an enjoyable walk along roads and lanes, we
returned to the bogs. Three miles or better of slogging through water and
climbing up and down mountains got my knee acting up again.
There were horribly long stretches of bog,
however, and the day grew long and tiresome. We were incredibly fortunate
that Judith had a cell phone so she could call the bus company and tell
them not to expect us at 4 o'clock. We eventually arrived at 6:30.
About two thirds of the way through the bog, we
spied the front guard gathering on a bridge. Our hearts rose and we were
singing songs as we approached, thinking we were about to leave the bog
for a road. But as we arrived we were disappointed beyond words. It was
only a small footbridge over a little river, and of little use. By that
point, we might just as well have walked through the river.
On the bridge, we continued to keep each other's
spirits up with jokes and songs ("Climb every mountain, ford every
stream . . .") until Jon basically told us to shut up.
In his defense, Judith was, at that time,
attempting to phone the bus company again, and the trek across the bogs
had leeched much of the good humor out of us. Still, I felt like an errant schoolboy and Shonagh and I
joked about being "the bad kids in the back."
We moved out again and made another forced march
through the remains of the bog.
At length, we emerged onto a gravel path that
lead past a small beach. A boy and his dad were near the water and asked
where we had come from.
"About 12 miles from that direction,"
Meg told them. Then she said to the boy, "I thought the Leprechauns
were going to get us!" To which the dad replied, "Sure, and no
Leprechaun would be mad enough to go walking back there!"
Eventually, we made it to the bus and the hotel.
After a shower (or bath, as the Brits prefer) and some clean clothing we
all felt much better.
The Connemara Gateway Hotel was nice but far
removed from town. After dinner, we hired a taxi to take usme, Shonagh, Judith and John and Maryto a pub. We had a bitch session in one pub, then went to
listen to some atrocious "traditional Irish" music at another.
We left at 11:30. We had asked our cab driver to
come for us earlier but he insisted on not picking us up until then.
"Eleven o'clock won't be enough time if
you're out for a pint," he said, "I'll be there at half
eleven."
When Judith asked him what pubs he went to, he
replied, "Oh now, I don't drink a'tall a'tall."
We arrived at an eerily empty, dark and silent
hotelapparently they do not wait up for their guestsand turned in, quite tired after such a long day.
Thursday, 23 August 2001
Inishmore
This was the first time I had to rely on the
alarm to wake me up. I got showered and dressed and went to the pool room
to uncover the pool for Judith. By the time I arrived it was done so I
went back and waited for breakfast.
We ate, packed and were out right on time.
Shonagh and I paired up for the day and had a
lovely time wandering around Inishmore. We browsed and walked by the ocean
and had lunch in a pub. Then we walked back to the main village and
stopped for a pint.
The ferry rides were nice and the ride to the
Hotel Carrigan short.
Lisdoonvarna is a minute's walk away and we have
just one more hike. No worries, right?
Wrong! My knee is killing me. I have no clean clothes. I can't wash them
anywhere, I can't get anyone else to wash them anywhere and I can't buy
any. And I can't even get a drink at the bartenderless bar in this useless
place!
I really don't know what tomorrow holds. I
actually would like to walk but I seriously doubt my ability to make a
13-mile hike with a 1,400-foot ascent.
Friday, 24 August 2001
The Cliffs of Moher
9:15 AM - Playing Hooky
Last evening, as I walked into town in (a
fruitless) search of a laundry, my knee buckled and the decision about
Friday's hike was made.
I put some cream on it, took some pills and put
on the brace. It felt some better, but not enough so I would consider the
hike.
While waiting at the bar for dinner, Shonagh came
in and asked about the next day's hike, saying she thought she wouldn't go
and could we do something together. I told her I had already decided to
not go on the hike so all was settled.
Apparently Judith and some others have been
concerned about my knee (and rightfully so) and Judith was encouraging
Shonagh to see if she couldn't convince me to give the next day's hike a
miss. Even Jon seemed relieved that I wasn't going.
6:03 PM
Today was absolutely the best day so far!
Shonagh and I took a stroll into town after
breakfast, me hauling my dirty laundry. We stopped at the visitor's center
and then went on to the laundry. The woman came around 10:00 and was very
accommodating. She took my dirty clothes and said if I couldn't be back by
6:00, to pick them up at the Royal Spa. "They'll have it behind the
bar," she told me. I pre-paid £6 and we left to call a taxi.
Ten quid and twenty minutes later we were at the
Cliffs of Moher. What a spectacular sight! Indescribably breathtaking! I
am so glad I didn't leave Ireland without seeing them.
We wandered the paths along the cliff edges, sat
and chatted for a while and then decided to walk into Doolin.
The day began with a thin cloud cover that added
to the dramatic look of the cliffs, the crashing waves and the deep
turquoise ocean. As we walked, it got clearer and clearer until it was a
bright, warm, sunny day. All around us were rolling emerald hills dotted
with cows, sheep, hay bails and distant villages.
After a lovely walk, we entered Doolin. We took
lunch in a very nice pub, then decide that we should continue walking on
to Lisdoonvarna.
That, again, proved a wonderful occasion for
stunning views and the enjoyment of the magnificent weather.
After returning to the hotel, I went into town to
get my laundry.
Post Script
After dinner, the three of us returned to townthis time to a different pub featuring a decent band and an
occasional bagpiper.
We stayed for a bit, listening to the music and
chatting, then took a leisurely walk back to the hotel.
Saturday, 25 August 2001
Ennis
For the second time, I had to rely on the alarm.
I woke up, showered, packed and went down for
breakfast. After that, we loaded the bus and drove into Ennis.
We said good-bye to half of our party at Ennis
(they were going on to different places and/or flights) toured the town a
bit and gathered back on the bus. Then we drove to Shannon airport where I
rented a car an said good-bye to the rest of the party.
5:24 PM - Real Ireland
I'm back in Ennis. I didn't mean to go here but I
took a wrong turn. It was interesting trying to drive but I managed to get
the hang of it after a bit.
It was a bit frustrating trying to get a roomall the B&B's were full. Finally, I stumbled on a motor
lodge somewhere outside of town. And I think I finally found real Ireland.
When I asked for a room (first I looked for an
office, then went into the adjoining bar and approached the bartender) the
proprietor said he did have single available. I drove around and he opened
the room.
"What time is check out?" I asked.
"Well, when do you want to check out?"
he says. "We don't rush people out. When would you be wanting
breakfast?"
"About 8 o'clock," I told him.
"Oh, the staff arrives about 8 so that
should be fine."
He then went on to inform me about a hurling
tournament in townwhich was why almost everyone was booked up.
"Leave your car here and walk into
town," he advised. "It's a ten minute walk and such a fine
day."
I thanked him and he left. A minute later he
returned. "Could I have a name?" he asks. I told him my name,
then asked, "Could I have a price?"
He shrugged. "Oh, twenty five, thirty,
whatever you can take."
I still don't know how much I'm paying, but it
won't be a lot.
Sunday, 26 August 2001
Killarney
8:07 AM
I slept poorly last night and woke earlier than I
had planned.
I walked into town last evening a bit after 6
o'clock. It was a lovely evening for a walk and a lot of other people were
out as well. Unlike me, and quite unusual for the Irish, they all seemed
in a bit of a rush. Nearer to town, there was a whole stream of people
heading in one direction, so I followed.
They were, of course, going to The Game. The All-Ireland U21 Hurling
Semi-Finals between Galway (Gaillimh) and Limerick (Luimneach).
I let the crowd lead me to the stadium, paid my
£5 entrance fee and made my way into the stands. Now I know why we refer
to the stadium seating area as "the stands." It's not a
misnomer; the stands here are a series of concrete steps where spectators
stand to watch the game. I guess we Americans are a lazy lot and decided
to put in seats.
The game was extremely interesting. It started
off with a national anthem (at least I assume it wasI couldn't understand the words) and then the crowd began to
roar and wave team flags and beat drums. It was all very exciting.
The game itself was a tad confusing, appearing to
be a cross-mix of lacrosse, baseball, American football, European football
and a barroom brawl. I watched in total amazement and confusion until I
felt I'd gotten my five quid's worth, then I went into town.
It was practically deserted as everyone was at
the game. I had a leisurely dinner of fish and chips, then wandered about
for a while. Eventually, the game ended and a flood of peoplehappy at the Limerick victoryovertook the sleepy town. I managed to elbow my way into a
pub, ordered a Guinness and just watched.
Once again, for all the distance I am away from
my home, I might as well have been in New York. The pub was virtually
identical to the pubs I go to back home, the people dressed the same,
acted the same and the buzz of conversation sounded no different. It was
only when someone stood close enough for me to hear their accent that I
could convince myself I wasn't at home.
The only other difference was what was on the
telly. It appeared to be a combination of soccer, American football and a
free for all. Upon closer inspection I realized it must be a rugby match.
But that was soon replaced by the WWFa thoroughly American vulgarityand once again it was impossible to know I was in Ireland.
Even the music was the same as back home.
About 10 o'clock I hired a cab and returned to my
room.
It's 8:35 now, time to locate some breakfast and
plan my next move. I still have hopes of finding a nice, quiet, authentic
Irish pub. Last night wasn't really a reflection on EnnisI don't believe there was a quiet pub to be found for some
distance around after The Game.
1:54 PM - Last Stop
Driving in Ireland has been an experience. Not
only do they drive on the wrong side of the road, but the cars are
different and their driving patterns are confusing. Still, that above all,
has impressed upon me that I am, indeed, in Ireland.
It took me over three hours to get from Ennis to
Killarney and I had to stop repeatedly and ask for directions. Even that
didn't keep me from getting lost. At one point, I saw I was driving near a
big lake, so I stopped and tried to locate myself on the map. I couldn't
find any lake in the area I thought I was in so I buttonholed a local and
asked where I was. My 'lake' turned out to be the Atlantic Ocean.
I pressed on, and on, and on. At last I lucked
out by picking up a hitchhiker (an innocuous looking young man) who
happened to be going to Killarney himself. Not only that, but he was
meeting his girlfriend at a nice, reasonably priced hotel (with a parking
lot) and was only too glad to guide me to it.
It's the Killarney Court Hotel and it is very nice and modern even by US
standards. The price was only £65 a night, including breakfast, so I
booked for tonight and Monday. After that, I'll be heading home.
The hitchhiker gave me some tips on where to go
and what to do and, most helpful of all, answered some questions about the
car. All day yesterday I kept trying to figure out how to roll the windows
down in the front. In back, the doors have manual cranks but up front
there is nothingno crank, no buttons on the door, nothing. I couldn't imagine
a car with windows that wouldn't go down but since this is Ireland I
thought that must be the case, for some odd reason.
"So what's with these cars?" I asked
the hitchhiker. "How come you can't roll the windows down in the
front?
In answer, he pushed a button on the dashboard
and my window went down. The dashboard! Who'd a thunk?
The drive was long but peaceful and pretty. There
are some really rugged mountains down here and the scenery is just a bit
different.
8:24 PM - Homesick
I find I'm getting rather homesick here,
wandering about all by myself. Then I ended up having dinner in a romantic
little restaurant. I didn't mean to; the sign said "Restaurant"
and I went in and by the time I realized what sort of place it was I
figured I might as well stay and eat. The food was superb but looking at
the empty seat across from me made me feel strangely alone.
10:36 PM
The previous entry was written in what I
thought would be a nice quiet pub where I could be all maudlin and lonely,
but then the patrons (all native Irish,
no tourists) began singing Irish folk songs and I couldn't resist
joining in.
The songs were not group songs,
people sang solo. I'm proud to say I held my own; they were
surprised to discover I was an American.
So I had fun tonight, the sort of fun I've been
looking for since I came to Ireland.
It's time for bed now. I want to get up early to
do the Ring of Kerry. One more night here and I can go home.
Monday, 27 August 2001
The Ring of Kerry
4:30 PM
I slept until nearly 8 AM, which is frightfully
late for someone like me.
The day dawned clear and blue and warm, perfect
for the Ring of Kerry. An American I saw last night (not a tourist, an
ex-patriot) told me to take my own car and not do the bus as it would be
much more enjoyable. The Ring of Kerry was absolutely amazing. On the
other hand, there is so much stunning beauty in this country it is almost
clichι. To see one set of emerald, rolling hills is pretty much the same
as seeing the next. I'm glad I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't think I could
take one more quaint village or breath-taking vista.
Even though the Ring of Kerry is well traveled
and well marked (by Irish standards) I still managed to get lost
repeatedly. I'd love to blame it on Irish roads and the lack of proper
route markings, but the truth is, I get lost in America just as easily.
Eventually, I picked up a hitchhiker who,
fortuitously enough, was on his way to Killarney. He was a student from
Slovenia named Mattι and he not only knew the route around the ring and
back into Killarney but he knew the best lookout stops as well.
The American ex-patriot did not steer me wrong.
Despite getting lost, taking my own car was a lot better than a bus tour.
I got to drive at my own pace, stop when and where I wanted and, best of
all, had access to the smaller (and often better) overlooks the buses
cannot pull into.
Driving is still tricky but I'm getting the hang of it. Driving the
standard makes my leg act up something awful, however.
Once back in Killarney, I took my new friend
Mattι out to lunch to thank him for being my guide. We had some good
conversation and then I went wandering again.
It has suddenly occurred to me that, of all the
photos I've taken, I don't yet have one of me enjoying a pint in an
authentic, Irish pub. So when I go back into town after dinner I'll bring
my camera with me and see if I can convince a waiter or bartender or
patron to snap a piccy or two of me in a pub. After that, I think my trip
to Ireland will be complete.
11:30 PM - Capping off my trip
I returned to the same pub I had visited last
night, not because I expected anything like last night, but simply because
I had had a good time there and thought it would be the most appropriate
place to have my photo taken in.
The place (O'Connor's Pub) was nearly deserted
when I got there but soon began to fill up. Unlike the previous night, the
patrons were mostly tourists. Lots of Americanswhich made me homesickand Brits, as well as Germans and even some Japanese.
Then I saw some musicians arrivea grizzled old woman with a banjo and a guitar and an equally
grizzled old man with an accordion. They played well, however, and the
crowd (and it was quite a crowd for such a tiny pub) really got into it.
They played authentic Irish songs and when they did a song I knew from
dance class I got up and did a Reel. I was amazed at how much a few pints
of Guinness and two weeks without practice took the edge off my steps. It
was not a stellar performance but the crowd still loved it.
One of the other bar maids who had been there the
night before recognized me and asked if I would sing a song, so I did. The
crowd really liked that and I returned to my seat satisfied that my trip
to Ireland was, at last, complete.
The couple sitting next to me was from
Philadelphia, so we chatted and bit and they took my photo for me. Later,
a couple from London sat down and we talked until closing, which was
ungodly early.
The walk home was silent and peaceful and allowed me to reflect on my time
in Irelandall the wonderful places and people and the memories I would
take home with me. I guess, after all, it has been a life-changing
experience.
Tuesday, 28 August 2001
Leaving Ireland
12:04 PM
I, and the car, arrived safely at Shannon
airport. The drive up from Killarney was very lovely. The weather is, once
again, perfect and the views so stunning in the morning light I was unable
to resist the urge to take more snaps.
Although the road to Limerick and on to Shannon
airport is so well marked even I couldn't get lost, I still picked up a
hitchhiker simply for the company. His name was Liam, and he was an older
Irish gentleman. He talked non-stop all the way to Limerick; telling me
all about the towns we were passing though and about how the road system
has improved so much over the past few years.
"Five year ago ye would'na have this good a
road here. It would be very narrow and the going slower."
"And here, see that!" he said,
excitedly pointing to a bridge. "That there carry over, it's actually
got a road on it. There's a road up there, maybe going to Kerry or
someplace. It's a Godsend, I tell ya!"
As we passed through Adare, he proudly told me
how President Clinton had stayed there. He remarked on nearly every
building as we passed it and repeatedly told me of the section ahead of us
where detached houses were located. I knew most of the Irish homes in
towns were small and close together, but I couldn't think that detached
housing should be that unusual.
"There! There!" he said, pointing.
"All detached houses! Look at them!"
I looked, and saw a neat row of tidy, ancient
Irish homesall with thatched roofs. Apparently, he had been saying
"the thatched" houses.
In Limerick, he continued his travelogue.
". . . and that there is the Holy Redeemer
Church," he said, genuflecting as we passed by.
He put me on the Shannon Road and I let him off,
continuing my journey alone.
I'm currently sitting in the Shannon airport.
I've got an hour and a half until my flight. I suppose I might have done
something this morning to fill the time but I find I'm tired of Ireland
and happy to be on my way home.
I changed in my pound notes for American dollars.
It was actually strange to see and feel the now unfamiliar green bills. I
saved out a fiver to buy a pint to pass the time. I'll have a nice,
leisurely pint here and by then it will be time to hit customs and begin
boarding.
I hope I don't get caught up in customs. They are
keen to know what I've bought and where I've been walking. I'm not sure
what to tell them. All the gifts I bought for my friends and family can't
be more than $200-$250. But the paper says to provide a description and
receipt for EACH item. That's nuts! I don't even remember everything I
bought or how much it cost or where the receipt might be. I'll probably
end up in jail.
As for where I've been, I know I've been to
places they would be interested infarmland specifically. I have this vision of them pulling me
out of line (or the Queue) and hosing me down with disinfectant.
I've also been told the bags I checked here will NOT go on to Albany. I
have to fetch them in Boston and go through customs again. It's going to
be a long day. |