It’s the rocks I remember most — painstakingly stacked up for miles throughout the country side without mortar. Rock fences reminding me of Marley’s chain in Dickens’ novel. A shepherd’s life work keeping land and sheep separated.
And then there’s the Guinness. How I long to go back to the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin and taste anew the creamy ale — dark roasted barley with just the right amount of hops giving it a twang of brightness. I could be happy for the next hundred years having just one more pint. I’d slowly tilt the embossed crystal pint full of Guinness, letting the nitrogen-infused creamy head soak my upper lip while I breathed deep the aroma of dark roasted barley and hops. I’d take small sips, letting the dark brown brew stain my rotting teeth. I’d pool it under my tongue and close my eyes. I’d then swish the brown gold around my entire mouth, not swallowing, but letting it absorb into my system until I felt the first, small effect of the alcohol soothing my nerves.
Back when I was alive, we didn’t start our 25th wedding anniversary tour in the Ireland country-side but in the main port-of-entry for tourists flying in from the States: Dublin. To be sure, our tour of Ireland didn’t start there either, really, but in our living room back in the states during a minor disagreement about where we should use our two free airline tickets my employer at the time had awarded to all their employees.
I love to eat and wanted to sample the best foods of Italy or Greece. My wife to escape the heat of Texas so we decided on a week-long guided bus tour of Ireland.
I wasn’t expecting it, but the food in Ireland turned out to be very nice, especially the dishes that contained locally sourced potatoes that added an earthy richness to every entree. The shepherds pie with the base of rich, Irish mashed potatoes topped with spiced beef was one of my favorites. And of course the fresh Atlantic cod fish with fried Irish potatoes would become my main staple during our trip.
Looking back, I can now see how I wasted the opportunity to experience Ireland by trying to see too many things and not really seeing a few things well. It’s a balance that I don’t think most people get right. But showing you many surface things is how escorted tours are setup. The tour director just keeps showing you new things without giving you much time to just settle in and think about the history of what you are seeing , to get off the bus and stand on the Irish soil, to put your hands on the stone fences, to smell the ocean spray, to just slow down and take it all in, to smell it, to experience it.
Horses are part of the culture of Ireland — some say it’s because of the grass — so we were fortunate to be able to visit the Irish National Stud at Kildare, where they breed thoroughbred race horses. There were several retired thoroughbreds on hand as well as a very entertaining tour and explanation of the breeding facilities and processes.
One comment from the tour guide at the National Stud caught my interest when she said that it’s a government owned breeding facility and they all work for the Irish government. I only have my thoughts now and can’t see the world but I lay here sometimes and wonder how Socialism is working out since that’s the way the modern world was heading when I was alive.
Driving west, we saw the Rock of Cashel which is a gigantic rock sitting in the middle of miles and miles of flat lands as if it came from outer space. Legend has it that the Devil was making his way through the valley and stumbled and knocked out his front tooth that then rolled across the plains and came to rest. This is one of places that I would like to have stopped and sat in the rain on the top of the Rock for a time and just breathed in the Irish country. Maybe even taking a walk down a lane and meeting some locals.
In Ennis, we stayed at a converted convent and went to Bunratty Castle for dinner. It was a very impressive performance by local singers and dancers and the food was served medieval style with no utensils offered to the guests. Looking around the castle, you can imagine why tapestries were so much in demand back then to cover the drab grey stone walls
We stopped at the 668-foot Cliffs of Moher as part of our drive along the Atlantic coastline. After climbing up a steep grade to the one of the scenic lookout posts, I remember the sea breeze blowing in from the Atlantic and watching the ocean waves crashing into the shore and thinking about all the history of this island country, both the beauty as well as the tragedy. I stood at the edge of Ireland thinking about all the winds of change that have blown ashore: the Galics, the Vikings, the English, the Famine, the Catholics and Protestants, that have given Ireland such a unique history.
As we continued our journey along the coast, if I could have a do over, I’d go back to the same busy café we stopped at in Galway and have the fish and chips and also a nice, chilled, Galway Hooker, which was the local craft lager. But back then I was still in hurry so we had to cut our time there short to get back on the bus to Killarney.
On the way to Killarney, we drove on the 100-mile Ring of Kerry, with the main attraction being all the lakes and the Ladies’ View, where Queen Elizabeth visited during a royal visit in 1861. Once in Killarney there were two highlights I well remember: the jaunting car ride through a nicely manicured national park to the Ross Castle and the early morning run I took the along the same path the next day in the early morning mist and fog.
I loved the Irish accent of the jaunting car (horse and carriage) driver saying his father and grandfather both worked as drivers. And when asked if he still takes passengers in the rain, he looked at me queerly and said he couldn’t make a living in Ireland if he didn’t work in the rain.
The next day, both of us hung upside down and kissed the magical Blarney stone, which was probably the most obvious tourist trap to be had in Ireland but it made for a good story once we returned to the States.
As we continued our trek across the island nation back towards Dublin, we stayed the night in Waterford where we visited the factory of the same name and learned first-hand how a great company can reinvent itself to stay competitive in the world’s economy. Unfortunately, the reinvention was to mostly shutter their larger facilities, specialize, and lay off workers. I felt a connection with the remaining craftsmen we saw working with the crystal since I miss so much the sensory delights of touching, smelling, tasting, and hearing.
When I left the world, these types of jobs were being automated which goes against the way humans were created. We were made to touch and pull and push and pickup and sculpt and chisel and cut and see and smell and taste the physical world. I’d love to see if there’s been a movement away from everything digitized and automated and optimized and artificial.
For most of my lifetime, I had thought Irish coffee was coffee with Irish whiskey in it until I had the real deal during an Irish coffee demonstration at our hotel that evening. The creamy head and sweet, roasted taste of the Irish coffee was similar to the Guinness that I had been drinking on my way across Ireland. The Jamenson whiskey giving the coffee that richness that moves it close to the top of the things I miss the most about being alive.
Our 25th wedding anniversary trip had been planned for a year and I remember riding on the bus back to Dublin for our last night on the island. I couldn’t fathom that our anniversary trip was almost over since it felt like one of those milestones that signaled the end of our youthful years of our marriage.
Back in Dublin for our last night, we went to a popular tourist venue for dinner and to watch some local young men and women show off their skill at traditional Irish dance. The tour director had bought a bottle of Jamenson whiskey for the group and I took only a sip which I now regret. I should have taken a full shot and felt the burn of the whiskey going down my throat and maybe even taking another shot and joining in with the crowd singing Oh Danny Boy.
But of course, back when I was alive I didn’t have the perspective I have now. If I had our trip to do all over again, I’d do everything the same only changing one thing: I would have put Ireland under my tongue and let all the tastes and smells and sights and sounds and textures of the food and drink and cliffs and castles and music and monasteries slowly absorb into me so that I didn’t waste the blessings of travel and could truly say I experienced all of what Ireland offers to those who live with their hearts and minds and senses wide open.
Nice write up. Keep it going Jeff.