Galway and the West: Ring of Kerry tour day 2

So, we arrive in Galway just before lunchtime and were told we had 2.5 hours of free time. I had remembered reading about a number of highly regarded restaurants there, so upon disembarking, I hauled it to Ard Bia at Nimmos where, after some hemming and hawing, I ordered a bowl of fresh seafood chowder with a side of brown bread. As had been every other person since I landed in Ireland, my waiter was noticeably friendly and lovely, and the chowder, bread, and butter did not disappoint.

Galway was in the throes of a vibrant arts festival and a hopping tourist scene, and in an attempt to escape the latter, I wound through farther-out side streets to explore. A local crafts store caught my eye, and I wandered in and was taken with it all, particularly the earrings and tea towels (I have a significant and long-standing obsession with tea towels). As I was checking out, the HILARIOUS clerk and I happened to begin chatting about her long-ago trip to DC. She was traveling with a friend and, following a terrible experience at one hostel, found another where she “experienced the best sleep of my life.”

The next morning, confused by the lack of noise and, upon a look around, other guests, she and her friend worried they’d inadvertently squatted somewhere. Turns out it was a Mormon lodge of some sort, and they never did cross paths with a soul. “Well,” I said, “maybe you are, unbeknownst to yourself, a Mormon. But, they don’t drink caffeine, so…”

With a very dramatic series of hand gestures towards herself, she replied, “does THIS look like it needs caffeine?” “Ok,” I said, “well if you’re fine with no alcohol and a certain type of undergarment, you’re set.” That killed the deal, which never there was, and we were still laughing as I walked out of the door with my purchases.

After Galway (wish I’d had more time there), we ventured further into Connemara, a stunning region in western Ireland that also includes the eponymous national park, and to Ballynahinch Castle. It sits on 700 wooded acres and is breathtakingly beautiful. Beyond the grounds, the rooms were perhaps the nicest I’ve ever stayed in, the food was delicious, and during dinner our first night, a local father-son duo played jigs, reels, waltzes, and a variety of tunes from all over Ireland on a Gaelic accordian (the son) and a wooden flute of African black wood that the father had crafted himself. The son was also an excellent Irish dancer, and the entire evening was a joy to witness.

The grounds were just stunning, and I took an absurd number of photos. I was fascinated by the fact that MD and Ireland grow so many of the same plants, despite the latitudinal difference. Granted, their gardens seemed happier than ours, perhaps because it was not 100 degrees each day.

Next stop: Clifden, Roundstone, and Kylemore Abbey.

Ireland x2

Oh, dear. I meant to write before I took off again, but so goes life once the kids get home. I have since returned to Ireland -this time Dublin, Belfast, and the northern coast- and visited Scotland, all in service of Jack’s first college exploration trip.

But let’s back up to July and Ireland round 1.

As I mentioned two posts back, the day Tom left the Netherlands to return home, I flew to Dublin where I began my adventure with a trip to a bookstore. My tour (an 8-day Ancient Ireland Ring of Kerry loop) was set to commence at 1p the next day. So, on Tuesday morning, eager to explore Dublin on my own, I walked west from my center city hotel to Kilmainham Gaol (jail), a former prison that is now a museum.

What was founded in 1796 as a “new kind of jail” -one that would provide better conditions for the incarcerated and rehabilitate them- Kilmainham quickly became overcrowded and rife with disease, all while children and adults continued to be housed together. During the Famine in the mid-1800s, this situation became even worse as many folks tried to break laws and gain entry to the jail simply so they could be ensured some daily ration.

Today, many who are interested in Irish history know Kilmainham as the prison in which many of the 1916 Easter Rising leaders and participants were subsequently jailed (de Valera, Pearse, Connolly, etc) and executed (not de Valera or any women). You can read more about all of that here. Kilmainham is now managed by the Office of Public Works and tickets include a guided tour and entry to the museum. Admittedly an avid fan of Irish history, I could not have enjoyed the experience more: riveting tour, excellent array of artifacts, and you can feel how harrowing it must have been to be imprisoned there. The two execution sites are marked with simple, powerful black crosses, and across the street from Kilmainham stands a memorial that includes the Proclamation of the Republic and 14 bronze statues, each with a verdict or execution order at its feet and unique bullet pattern on its torso, that represent the men executed.

In my opinion, a visit to Kilmainham is a must if you visit Dublin.

Following a quick lunch, I met up with my tour guide, David, and the seven other participants (all women), and we headed off to the EPIC Museum (about Irish emigration) and the Guinness Factory for tours. I was underwhelmed by EPIC, to be honest, and while on principle and in solidarity I drink Guinness, I don’t actually love it but was impressed with the enormous visitor center and the entire operation. Definitely worth a visit!

Next day: West!

Our first stop was Clonmacnoise, an ancient monastery founded and supported by intellectually voracious monks. Sitting along the River Shannon, Clonmacnoise grew into a decently-sized community before being pillaged repeatedly by both Vikings and other Irish monasteries (tsk, tsk) and ultimately abandoned.

Westward on to Galway, but more on that tomorrow! In the meantime let me rave about My Ireland Tour, the company with whom I traveled. David was an amazing guide: a font of knowledge, a great wit, a masterful driver, and just all-around cool. Our coach was extremely comfortable, the itinerary was perfectly full such that every day was filled, but I almost never felt rushed, and the lodgings and meals were wonderful.

Netherlands PS + camp

I truly loved hearing from so many of you after my Netherlands post, and I apologize for not having replied yet; we have, in the meantime, gone to Maine to pick the boys up and drive us all home. Since arriving back in MD last night, I have done 9 loads of laundry (no live ticks or empty milk jugs this year; but, more silverware and some rocks, and we’re down three more towels), purchased groceries that filled the cart beyond full (as the evidence below shows), and prepped for a new driver’s license (for Jack) appointment tomorrow.

I am both astonished and delighted by the entrenchment of dirt in what were, six weeks ago, new socks for both boys. A hat tip to you, kiddos, for living big in nature. Some of these are not salvageable, but I’m giving most of them my best effort because they carried my kids through happiness and dirt, tough times and wild life. And all of that is good info to remember and become wiser by.

As the tenth load spins in the room abutting my office, I am thinking about how long ago Europe feels but also how my time there remains sustentative. Earlier this year, my dear friend Amanda said something to the effect of “alone travel is something to always make time for. I do it once a year.” Like me, A has two children. Hers are younger, so I really admire her commitment. But she’s right. Going alone when you are rarely alone is a great sort of challenge. It doesn’t appeal to or benefit all, but for those who crave growth and adventure, such travel can provide the best of both.

In Amsterdam, I came across a pair of shoes I’d been eyeing stateside and really wanted. They’re a Converse-Comme des Garçons collaboration that I just hadn’t managed to find/deal with/purchase before I left. I mentioned them to Tom, and because he is a weirdly good researcher, he naturally found them at a store on one of our favorite streets in Amsterdam: Prinsengracht.

The precise pair I wanted wasn’t available in my size, but I quite liked the available option so brought it up to the register. The solo employee was a typically-tall (tall!) Dutch woman who appeared effortlessly chic though wearing an oversized tee, oversized jeans, and many barrettes in her hair (that seemed unnecessary). At the counter I said, “what do you think?” referring to hip shoes that seemed at least a decade younger than I am.

With total sincerity, she looked at me and said, “It doesn’t matter at all what I think. It only matters if you like them.” Perhaps seeing my American whatever she said, “I love them; they’re very hip.” And I do love that so much about the Netherlands. Practical and honest and largely unconcerned with others’ opinions. It’s all downright aspirational, and I have since loved wearing those high-tops and embracing that spirit. It’s taken me 4 decades to really fly my own flag, and doing so is so GD fun and liberating.