I left work early on Friday and took the bus from Busaras Station to Galway. On the bus ride I saw: old ruined houses with trees growing inside them and green branches poking out through the windows and where the roofs used to be; two horses playing in a field overgrown by wildflowers and surrounded by a short stone fence; a lake whose rough waters lapped against the edge of the highway. The road split at one point around a diamond of grass where a flock of sheep were grazing and I wondered how they got there. I imagined their shepherd guiding them across while cars zoomed by (the Irish are terrible jaywalkers). Our route bisected the island, even making a pit stop in Athlone, which is practically at the center of the country.
Emily met me at the station, and we went out for fish and chips at a place Yvonne (from FLAC) recommended. The day had been beautiful, but we got caught in a storm on the way back to her house and were completely drenched (I took a picture of the two of us soaking wet, which is at the top).
Emily already had plans for Saturday (and who could blame her? I did invite myself on very short notice), and I wanted to explore the Burren, so when I read that it is difficult to get around out there without a car, I booked myself a place on a tour bus departing from in front of one of the youth hostels. I was ambivalent about joining a tour, and even as I was pedaling into town on Emily's bike this morning, I still wasn't sure whether I wanted to go. I got into town and locked up the bike a half hour early, and decided to pop into Charlie Byrne's Bookstore, which has to be the best used bookstore in Ireland, evidenced by the fact that I immediately stumbled upon Fabled Shore, Rose Macaulay's only travel book, which I have been searching for for at least two years (I know I said I wouldn't buy any more books, but out-of-print volumes by my favorite authors are always fair game). I had just enough time to make it to my tour if I headed straight there, but I walked slowly, the long way around, telling myself that if they left without me I would get a copy of the Guardian and plant myself in a cafe and read the book review over a cup of coffee, which is what I really had a hankering to do. I got there ten minutes late, but the bus still sitting there (of course it was! this is Ireland - nothing happens on time!), so I paid for my ticket and boarded.
The Burren is a sparsely populated region of Co. Clare known for its limestone-covered fields and spectacular cliffs, and I am glad I took the tour as I never would have gotten to see as much as I did if I had tried to get around by myself using public transport. But you have to admit, there's something depressing about going on a bus tour, lethargically disembarking from the bus to swarm among the hoards of tourists and dutifully snap a few pictures before being herded back aboard. I longed to wander off and get lost on a rocky hilltop and listen to the bleats of the sheep and the roaring of the ocean.
We stopped in Doolin for lunch, which is a charming little town (barely a town, really, more like a street), and I finally got my cup of coffee at a cafe devoted to traditional Irish music (apparently the westernmost cafe of its kind in Europe, it bills itself as "The Last Music Cafe Until America"). We departed from there to Cliffs of Moher (the second picture from the bottom), which can only be (and are almost always) described as "spectacular." We were lucky that it was such a clear day, for we could see all the way out to the Aran Islands and had a clear view of all 5 km of cliffs on either side of where we were standing. We had an hour to explore, and I walked out to the furthest point and stood watching the water crash against the rock formations.
From the Cliffs we drove through Kilfenora (setting of Paul Durcan's famous poem "The Kilfenora Teaboy" and a charming village I'd like to go back and explore) and Lisdoonvarna, site of Ireland's biggest annual singles' event. Every year in the olden days, apparently the farmers would come down from their hills to look for a wife, and if they were unsuccessful after a month, they would return to their farms and wait until the next year (how very Seven Brides for Seven Brothers!). So, the tradition has continued and every September singletons flock there from all over the world to consult the local matchmaker and look for love. Maybe I should make another trip out there next month. :)
Our next stop was an ancient burial site. You almost wouldn't notice it because the hills are so rocky, but it's a table-top "dolmen" (the last picture above.) They recently excavated it, and found 16 adults and 6 children, carbon-dated at 5000 years old (if I remember correctly - I should have taken notes). From there, we went on to the Ailwee Caves, and got to see what was beneath the limestone hills. It was a pretty amazing site.
Emily met me at the station, and we went out for fish and chips at a place Yvonne (from FLAC) recommended. The day had been beautiful, but we got caught in a storm on the way back to her house and were completely drenched (I took a picture of the two of us soaking wet, which is at the top).
Emily already had plans for Saturday (and who could blame her? I did invite myself on very short notice), and I wanted to explore the Burren, so when I read that it is difficult to get around out there without a car, I booked myself a place on a tour bus departing from in front of one of the youth hostels. I was ambivalent about joining a tour, and even as I was pedaling into town on Emily's bike this morning, I still wasn't sure whether I wanted to go. I got into town and locked up the bike a half hour early, and decided to pop into Charlie Byrne's Bookstore, which has to be the best used bookstore in Ireland, evidenced by the fact that I immediately stumbled upon Fabled Shore, Rose Macaulay's only travel book, which I have been searching for for at least two years (I know I said I wouldn't buy any more books, but out-of-print volumes by my favorite authors are always fair game). I had just enough time to make it to my tour if I headed straight there, but I walked slowly, the long way around, telling myself that if they left without me I would get a copy of the Guardian and plant myself in a cafe and read the book review over a cup of coffee, which is what I really had a hankering to do. I got there ten minutes late, but the bus still sitting there (of course it was! this is Ireland - nothing happens on time!), so I paid for my ticket and boarded.
The Burren is a sparsely populated region of Co. Clare known for its limestone-covered fields and spectacular cliffs, and I am glad I took the tour as I never would have gotten to see as much as I did if I had tried to get around by myself using public transport. But you have to admit, there's something depressing about going on a bus tour, lethargically disembarking from the bus to swarm among the hoards of tourists and dutifully snap a few pictures before being herded back aboard. I longed to wander off and get lost on a rocky hilltop and listen to the bleats of the sheep and the roaring of the ocean.
We stopped in Doolin for lunch, which is a charming little town (barely a town, really, more like a street), and I finally got my cup of coffee at a cafe devoted to traditional Irish music (apparently the westernmost cafe of its kind in Europe, it bills itself as "The Last Music Cafe Until America"). We departed from there to Cliffs of Moher (the second picture from the bottom), which can only be (and are almost always) described as "spectacular." We were lucky that it was such a clear day, for we could see all the way out to the Aran Islands and had a clear view of all 5 km of cliffs on either side of where we were standing. We had an hour to explore, and I walked out to the furthest point and stood watching the water crash against the rock formations.
From the Cliffs we drove through Kilfenora (setting of Paul Durcan's famous poem "The Kilfenora Teaboy" and a charming village I'd like to go back and explore) and Lisdoonvarna, site of Ireland's biggest annual singles' event. Every year in the olden days, apparently the farmers would come down from their hills to look for a wife, and if they were unsuccessful after a month, they would return to their farms and wait until the next year (how very Seven Brides for Seven Brothers!). So, the tradition has continued and every September singletons flock there from all over the world to consult the local matchmaker and look for love. Maybe I should make another trip out there next month. :)
Our next stop was an ancient burial site. You almost wouldn't notice it because the hills are so rocky, but it's a table-top "dolmen" (the last picture above.) They recently excavated it, and found 16 adults and 6 children, carbon-dated at 5000 years old (if I remember correctly - I should have taken notes). From there, we went on to the Ailwee Caves, and got to see what was beneath the limestone hills. It was a pretty amazing site.
1 comment:
Darling grandaughter Elizabeth: What a descriptive essay on Ireland and its people! We thoroughly enjoyed reading about your adventures..we feel like we shared them with you! And we are happy that you are enjoying your new job--with different focus and with an opportunity to gain valuable experience both in law and in social issues! When you have time, later in life probably, you will have to write a novel about your travels as a young lady! We will be most pleased to purchase the first copy, provided its suitably autographed!! Have a wonderful week at work! We love you dearly, atwttsab! Numm and Papa
Post a Comment