There and back again, Ireland 2015 Day 1 and 2

I am now on the second leg of my journey.  Oh.  I’m in Ireland.  I said I was going to get here a year ago… and here I am, counting down the last days of year 39.  

I had better intentions of writing from the get go.  Sadly, I have a Chromebook with me that didn’t do well with our sluggish wifi connection, so the computer sat in my backpack for most of the week.  I became one of those creatures I hated, bowing down to my phone near the hotspot of our dining room to gain access to a few emails and social media… but no writing.

Really, sad, because I have three notebooks and a journal with me.  The notebooks have some notes and a few haphazard scenes.  Important stuff.  The journal has a few paragraphs, but not the detail with which I am usually disciplined on my travels.

I was with a group of six friends.  There was always conversation or peripheral noise or dinner being made or peat to tend or… a sky to watch - which even in the blustery gray was just. so. captivating.

Anyway, enough of the excuses.  I am on the leg of the journey where I don’t have the distraction of socializing.  I have a good wifi connection and evenings when I can decompress from my daily adventures.  So time to catch up.

Day One or what is known to anyone traveling across the pond as one very, very long day.

I worked on Friday.  It seems another lifetime at this point.  It was hot - I think.  I seem to remember wearing a dress and sandals to work.  Not that I did much work.  I had to go to a meeting.  I had to clean my office so that it doesn’t look like I’m coming back to work.... but you don’t need to know about all that, do you?

I took an overnight flight to London.  I know there are some people who travel much more frequently and some who travel less.  But to me, the moment the airplane lifts off the ground is like freedom.  I don’t know if it is because I was/have been/still look forward to the parts of this trip or the fact I have been stuffing my head with Irish history - specifically Irish immigrant history - but I got weirdly emotional and reflective as the plane took a turn away from Boston towards Newfoundland to cross the Atlantic.  I yearn to visit both London and Ireland - something I have to squeeze funds from a stone to do… but can do for leisure.  And it struck me how my ancestors - the Brennans, the Conroys, the MacMahons, the (apparently) Murphys left that green island never to return.   Happy to leave it behind?  Or have I inherited that yearning to go back with the blood they bequeathed me?

Anyway I was emotional.  And tired.  Not tired enough, of course, to find a restful sleep on the plane.  I managed to watch a dippy Hugh Grant romcom and a couple episodes of John Oliver to keep me going.  The winds were good, so the flight was less than six hours.  I had to catch a bus and stand in line to transfer to Dublin… but it was a surprising lack of stringency.  I was hoping I could find a Starbucks in Heathrow.  Sad.  But really.  Starbucks tastes sooo good in England.  It’s the milk.  The milk is real.  Not infused with antibiotics and watered down.  But alas…. there were no green mermaids to be found in my interim.  Just a quick stop for a bottle of Ribena and water.

The unfortunate part of the Saturday morning is that I had to wait three hours in Dublin airport to meet up with my travel companions, some of whom stayed in Dublin and some of whom traveled to Wales for a couple days.  I was tired and dehydrated and found an unnatural fixation with social media that was disappointing because everyone at home was still asleep.  Eventually we met up, got our cars, and headed west for Connemara.

The drive was long.  It felt long as I struggled to keep my eyes wide in awe at the green (that seemed a little more yellow to my memory - but whatever).  I was glad not to drive and gladder still when we arrived later than expected at our cottage.

The house was (and still is) amazing.  The back deck and all the windows on the back of the house looked out to the peaks of the Twelve Bens.  It was right on the N59, putting us ten minutes from Letterfrack and not far from Kylemore and the ocean and… well more things to do than our week would actually allow.  

But before I start in on those things, I have to say the house had enough to keep us entertained all on its own.  The bedrooms all had their own bathroom.  The kitchen was huge - with that divine view from the sink.  It was also very modern and equipped with enough accessories to allow us to make good meals (except a decent set of knives).  The dining room had a large table and a bookshelf so packed it sagged in the middle.  Another bookshelf was full of Irish history/folklore/horticulture/walks… divinity.  Oh - and there was the living room, with a large stone fireplace and a basket full of peat.  I want a house like that someday.

By the time we unloaded all our bags, it was already nearing 8?  Maybe 7:30.  Whatever.  We were hungry.  And the kitchen was empty as well as our energy levels.  So we headed into Letterfrack, where I stayed with some of my family on our trip ten years ago.  I had some vivid recollections of that village, but some were a little fuzzy - like the best pub to grab at which to grab a meal.  We made a quick stop at the market, picking up food for breakfast and some wine and other random Anglophile favorites (McVities, Hobnobs, cheese).  Then we walked over to the local seafood restaurant and sat down for our first meal together.

One of the members of our party was celebrating birthday number 30 that day, so we all raised a glass in celebration and selected various seafood dishes.  I mean… we were in Galway.  I got the salmon and sea bass special.  We also got three orders of a fried brie with a chutney.  And brown bread.  I forgot the deliciousness of brown bread - and this place had some that was particularly fresh, with pumpkin seeds on the top.  I had a Bulmers and saved whatever liquor capacity I had left for some of that wine we had already purchased.

It was a delicious meal.  Then we went back to the cottage and had some of that wine and conversation and our first pathetic attempt to huddle over the wifi.

Plans were made for the next day and I found my way to my pink and purple duvet covered bed to sleep in Elysium.

Day Two: Galway.

Galway had a rumored fantastic farmer’s market, so we opted to make Sunday our day to head back south and check out the artsy city of the western coast and the namesake of the county in which we were staying.

The market was a bit of a letdown - upon subsequent research, seems the veg show up on Saturday and we were there on Sunday.  That said, it was still an opportunity to explore (in particular searching for a cheesemonger that someone had discovered in some planning.  I mean… cheesemonger…).  We arrived in the city and pretty immediately we were hungry.  So we found an appealing pub for lunch.  I ordered my first plate of fish and chips, delighted mostly by the mushy peas, which were a tasty lentil clump.  (Yeah, that probably sounds weird - but I’m not really a potato person - or fried fish for

that matter).  But it was all delicious.  Had a Smithwicks - even though it was afternoon.  And the pub itself was kind of fun.  It was called The King’s Head.  A tourist trap, sure.  Although the trap that Sunday was more for fans of hurling… and tourists packing the streets of Galway.  Enough to delay our food delivery so we read up on the history of the building and Galway itself - how the plot to kill Charles I may have been hatched in that building… which is a detail significant to mention because it planted a seed that would come back the next day.

We left the pub and wandered up and down the crowded streets, stopping to watch a few buskers.  Making a stop in Boots… because I needed tissues and others needed whatever.  We went to a bookstore.  I bought one (only one) book about fairies and another book for someone else.  We found the market, which was more crafts and art and crepes than produce… but it led us to the cheesemonger.  I was honestly overwhelmed by the store and couldn’t commit myself to a purchase.  But there were enough in our party who weren’t overwhelmed and a great variety was sampled and packaged up for our cottage.

We took a walk out to the water - a glimpse into Galway Bay and some swans.  A tea house was sighted and noted for later travels.  I had a sense of deja vu from the 2005 visit, but not enough to render myself knowledgeable about the locale or nostalgic enough to beg to stay.  We walked back to our cars and made the drive home.

We stopped for groceries along the way.  And more wine to supplement the cheese snackery we had when we got back, with some peat smoking in the fireplace and the sun setting around ten o’clock.  Our first full day was complete and we had a whole week of possibility ahead of us.