A Terrible Beauty is Born

My last guest of the fall, Paula, left on Saturday.  We had a marvelous time.  Although we did many of the same things I have done with others, such as tours of Connemara and the Cliffs of Moher, I continued to learn a lot and I enjoyed each outing immensely.  We ate wonderful food, listened to live, traditional music and watched traditional dancing.  We also enjoyed ridiculously uncharacteristic weather.  It hardly rained while Paula was here! 

Paula and Rachel at Cliffs of Moher

Rachel at Ross Errilly Friary

Paula in Cong, the town where "The Quiet Man" was filmed

Rachel and Paula at Dunguaire Castle

Tombs at Kilfenora

Paula likes rock walls, too!

I still want one of these in my yard!

Sweetie Pies for afternoon tea

We spent the last two nights of Paula’s visit in Dublin.  After reading my “Beauty and Tragedy in the Connemara Region” blog, my friend Betty Peterson emailed me and commented that I have picked up on the “Irish way of ‘tears and laughter.’”  I was reminded of her phrase when I was in Dublin. 

Paula and I began our first full day in Dublin at the Guinness Brewery.  I don’t really like beer, but I found the visit great fun.  We learned about the history of the 251 year old business, tasted the product, pulled our own pint, ate lunch and shopped in the Guinness store.  This was definitely the laughter of the day.

An advertisment

Paula going for the black!

Paula pulls a pint of Guinness

Rachel shows off the pint she pulled and the certificate that proves she did it

Shopping!

The fruits of Paula and Rachel's Christmas shopping (there may be a thing or two in there for us...)

  

I experienced tears at our next stop, Kilmainham Jail.  Aideen, the friendly and helpful woman who works at the jewelry store in Galway, recommended that Paula and I tour the jail.  Aideen has never steered me wrong.  I knew the tour would be educational and difficult.  Right on both counts. 

Kilmainham opened in 1796 and closed in 1924.  The jail design, a panopticon, was inspired by the work of Jeremy Bentham.  A panopticon prison is designed with cells built around a center guard station.  Bentham reasoned that if a prisoner might be watched at any time, s/he would behave as if s/he was watched because s/he does not know when s/he is under surveillance.  In other words, the prisoner will self-monitor.  I have discussed this type of prison for years in my Organizational Communication class because French Post-Modernist, Michel Foucault, posited that we live in a panopticon society and therefore we discipline ourselves.  Though I have known of this prison design, I had never actually seen it in person. 

   

The only way to tour Kilmainham Jail is with a guide.  Our tour guide brought many stories to life.  We learned of the youngest prisoner, an eight-year old girl sentenced to five months for stealing a lady’s cloak to keep warm.  We learned that upon arrival, each prisoner was given a Bible (most could not read), a thin blanket and a candle.  The candle was supposed to last for two weeks and was the prisoners’ source of light and heat.  Prisoners were often afraid to light the candle because they feared that the next day might be even colder than the current one.  We saw the exercise yard where prisoners were led for an hour a day.  Their exercise consisted of forming two concentric circles and walking around and around.  Prisoners were not allowed to talk to or look at each other; they had to look at their feet as they walked. 

The leaders of the 1916 Easter uprising were imprisoned and executed by firing squad at Kilmainham.  Early in our tour we were shown to the jail’s Catholic Chapel where we sat down to listen to our guide.  Our guide shared a great deal of history and told us the story of Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford.  Joseph and Grace were engaged to be married on Easter Sunday, 1916, the day of the Easter Rising.  Joseph was a leader of the uprising and was arrested before they could be married.  The couple was allowed to marry in the chapel at the jail on the night before Joseph was executed.  They were not allowed to talk to each other, though.  Later that night, the guards allowed Grace to spend ten minutes with her new husband.  They were not left alone and the guards counted down each of the ten minutes.  After their brief time together, Grace stayed near the jail until she heard the shots ring out that killed her husband.  I’m pretty sure I heard other people sitting in the chapel rustling around as they hunted for tissue, but I can say unequivocally that I was brought to tears and I fished a tissue from my bag.

We ended our tour of the jail in the outdoor and walled area where executions were carried out.  A black cross marked the place the Easter Rising rebels were executed.  In the yard hung an Irish tri-color flag.  Our tour guide explained that the green stands for those who wish for a full union of all of Ireland.  The orange represents those who continue to support British rule and the white in the center stands for peace between the two. 

   

When I was in the Guinness Brewery I snapped picture after picture.  Though our tour guide suggested things we might want to photograph, I could not bring myself to take even one shot of Kilmainham Jail.  Everywhere I walked I felt sorrow and pain and injustice emanate from the cold stones.  I just didn’t think a photograph could adequately capture what I experienced and it felt almost disrespectful to those who suffered in that place. 

I discussed Kilmainham jail with an Irishman I met on Saturday night at a Thanksgiving dinner.  The man, Robert, told me about a poem by WB Yeats about the Easter Rising.  It seems many Irish were unprepared for the uprising and they did not initially view the rebels in a positive light.  The executions, however, turned the rebels into martyrs and this led to support for the rebels.  The Yeats poem, “Easter, 1916” captures this change of heart.  Here is the opening stanza of the poem:

            I have met them at close of day

            Coming with vivid faces

            From counter or desk among grey

            Eighteenth-century houses.

            I have passed with a nod of the head

            Or polite meaningless words,

            Or have lingered awhile and said

            Polite meaningless words,

            And thought before I had done

            Of a mocking tale or a gibe

            To please a companion

            Around the fire at the club,

            Being certain that they and I

            But lived where motley is worn:

            All changed, changed utterly:

            A terrible beauty is born.

Stormy Weather

Don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky,

Stormy weather.

Since my man and I ain’t together,

Keeps raining all the time.

Harold Arlen wrote the achingly lovely song, Stormy Weather, in 1933.  Arlen was a US composer, but I wonder if he might have been inspired by the Irish climate. 

According to the Irish Meteorological Service Online, while it might seem like it rains every day in Galway, the average number of days in a year during which it rains more than one millimeter on the west coast of Ireland is about 225.  So that’s only two days out of three.  Only. 

Considering the droughts I’ve experienced in Nebraska, it does feel like it “keeps raining all the time.”

There is no way to avoid rain here.  I am, however, lucky.  I work out of my apartment so I can mostly choose when I venture outside.  I keep one eye on the hourly forecast on Weather.com and the other eye on the weather outside my window.

A man takes a picture of Galway Harbor from under his umbrella in the rain

While an umbrella is a necessity, high ocean winds can render it useless.  I have learned a lot about how to negotiate the weather by watching other people.  For example, most people seem to wear a raincoat with a hood or a rain hat.  I had neither of these when I arrived.  I recently purchased a beautiful rain hat and my next guest, Paula, is delivering my new Lands End hooded raincoat on Saturday. 

Rain hat!

I did my research before I started this sabbatical so I knew Ireland was a rainy country and that the west coast of the country experienced more rain than the east.  What did surprise me, though, was the lack of thunder and lightening.   I did a little web search and found a discussion board on the topic.  Someone who calls himself “Paddy.1” wrote: 

Ireland as a whole has the lowest thunderstorm rate in all of Europe, largely due to being a relatively small, maritime influenced island that is really too far north for any sufficient heat to build up.  When thunderstorms do occur, they tend to be quite brief, weak and localized affairs most of the time when compared to the bigger and more regular organized storms that larger landmasses tend to experience. 

Apparently there was a notable exception in 1985.  A number of responders had distinct memories of a fierce storm with never again seen amounts of lightening.

I have heard many locals complain about the rain.  I'd likely complain, too, if I had to make my way to work in a storm every two out of three days.  I might feel different in February or March, but so far I don’t resent the rain.  It brings the beautiful green colors of the country.  And shockingly large rainbows.  

A web search for lyrics taught me that there are a number of songs entitled “Stormy Weather.”  Here’s the end of “Stormy Weather” by Leo Sayer:

            Why should we always have stormy weather?

            Why should we have it so rough?

            It’s not so hard just to stay close together.

            Why can’t we only have love?

Hurricane Elaine (and Thomas)

The day before Elaine arrived for her visit, Kevin suggested I rest in preparation for “Hurricane Elaine.”  In addition to the commentary on Elaine's active lifestyle, I liked how the words sound.  Little did I know that an actual hurricane would impact the weather during Elaine’s time in Ireland.

Considering the rain and wind of the last several weeks, Elaine was very lucky to have reasonably good weather during her Irish adventure.  The one exception occurred last Sunday.  While we weren’t expecting to experience an actual hurricane, Hurricane Thomas was forecast to cause gale force winds along the Irish coast.  Meteorologists expected the winds, combined with rain and an unusually high tide, to lead to flooding.  The adventure was scheduled to begin about 4:00 PM on Sunday.  Elaine and I went to mass Sunday morning after which we ate lunch, walked around town and visited the grocery store to buy necessities (e.g. chocolate) for the coming storm.  We returned to my apartment to settle in for an evening of wind and rain. 

Thanks to my large windows, we had quite a show!  The wind was intense.  From my window we could see the sailboat masts rocking briskly and deeply from side to side.  The blowing rain made fascinating patterns on the ground.   Water splashed up on the docks.  The violent storm increased my gratitude for the shelter of my apartment. 

Street musicians in Galway on Sunday afternoon

Remarkably, Monday was a relatively lovely day.  Elaine and I joined a tour to the Cliffs of Moher.  I took a similar tour when Erin visited, but a different company conducted this trip and I saw some new places on the way to the Cliffs.  Our tour guide, Desmond, was quite a character.  He told a lot of jokes and shared interesting facts.  He also sincerely warned us to be careful at the Cliffs.  Desmond told us that 18 people died at that spot last year alone.   Elaine and I managed to spend a little time on the cliffs before it began to rain after which point we sought shelter in the Visitor Center. 

Near Dunguaire Castle

Fairy Fort

Elaine at a Fairy Fort

Poulnabrone Dolmen, 5800 year-old portal tomb

The Burren, near Poulnabrone Dolmen

Cross on top of a tomb at Kilfenora Cathedral, 6th century monastery

Tomb marker at Kilfenora, 6th century monastery

Stormy day on the Cliffs of Moher

Sign at Cliffs of Moher, don't go near the edge

Sign at Cliffs of Moher, don't go off the path

Sign at Cliffs of Moher, don't climb over the barrier

Coastal stop on the way back to Galway

Tuesday was Elaine’s last day in Galway.  Fergal (from the tour company) met us in Eyre Square to lead us on a walking tour.  I loved learning details about the streets I have walked and the buildings I have passed for several months.  Fergal gave us this tour to make up for telling us the wrong start time for our tour to Connemara.  Elaine and I tried to tip him at the end of our tour when we were near the Spanish Arch.  He would not hear of it; in fact, he told us that it would be illegal for him to accept the money.  Interestingly, a man Fergal knew was enjoying his lunch near the Spanish Arch and he found it very amusing to see two women attempt to hand money to his friend.  We all enjoyed a laugh over that.  After our tour, Elaine and I visited the Galway City Museum and the cathedral.  We listened to live traditional music at Tig Coili and then ate dinner at Ard Bia. 

Nora Barnacle House, childhood home of the woman who married James Joyce

Clock Tower of St. Nicholas Collegiate Church in Galway.  Legend has it there is no clock on one side of the tower because that side of town was delinquent in its taxes.  Some say this is the origin of the phrase, he wouldn't "give the time of day."  

On Wednesday, Elaine and I took a bus to Dublin.  We visited Trinity College where Elaine saw the book of Kells.  I had seen it when Kevin was here and the admission fee is 9 euro, so I browsed the gift shop while Elaine went in.  While in the gift shop I saw a lovely W.B. Yeats poem done in calligraphy.  I looked it up online so that I could remember it:

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

                        -W.B. Yeats, “He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven”

Elaine and I also visited the National Museum of Ireland, Decorative Arts & History.  I have spent three nights in Dublin (one with Kevin, one with my parents and one with Elaine).  All three nights we ate dinner at Italian restaurants and each one was fabulous. 

After dinner, Elaine and I walked to the Abbey Theatre to see the Frank McGuinness version of the Ibsen play, John Gabriel Borkman.  Well-known actor, Alan Rickman, played the title role.  The actors were outstanding.  Elaine and I sat in the third row; I was close enough that I could have thrown a catchable ball to Mr. Rickman.  Considering my lack of upper-body strength, that is very close.

I loved the play.  I found it engaging and provocative.  The applications of the material today are legion.  I was fascinated by how many of the characters were genuine victims, but instead of trying to heal, which would have allowed them some degree of happiness, they nurtured their pain.

I purchased a poster from the play to give to friend and colleague, Theatre Professor, Jay Scott Chipman.  The man who sold me the poster suggested we might be able to have it autographed.  Elaine and I (and probably about 20 other people) waited by the outside stage door and, sure enough, Mr. Rickman emerged and kindly signed the poster as well as all of our play cards and programs.  I told him I enjoyed his performance and he said, “Thank you.”  Wow!

Alan Rickman signing autographs outside the Abbey Theater

Yesterday was Elaine’s 70^th birthday and she spent it travelling back to Lincoln.   I’m glad the day before her birthday was filled with so much adventure because long flights are generally not much fun. 

Beauty and Tragedy in the Connemara Region

My fourth visitor, Elaine, arrived in Galway early Friday afternoon.  When I began my career at Nebraska Wesleyan University in the fall of 1996, the administration assigned Elaine to be my faculty mentor.  Elaine is a retired History professor now and she is making good use of her newfound freedom.  

The first things we did after Elaine’s arrival was talk, eat lunch and talk.  And then we talked some more.  After Elaine unpacked, we ventured out into the Latin Quarter.  It was a lovely late afternoon.  We first stopped at a jewelry store at the base of Shop Street in the Latin Quarter.  We had a marvelous conversation with the woman working behind the counter.  We learned that her family owns the store and she makes many of the rings that they sell.  I planned to buy a Claddagh ring before I left Galway and that afternoon seemed like the right time.  Plus, the price was right!  Some Claddagh rings seem “bulky” to me, but she had one that was the size I wanted.  I told her I would be having more visitors and I would be sure to bring them to her store.  She said to tell whoever is working that I am a “regular” so I can get a discount.  Score!

My new ring

The jeweler (I really wish I had asked her name!) recommended some stores in Galway where we can be sure to find authentic Irish goods.  She also recommended a tour to Connemara and Cong.  Elaine and I took that tour yesterday.  The beauty of the land and the stories of suffering endured by people in the Connemara region struck us both.

When we bought our tickets for the Connemara and Cong tour on Friday afternoon, the man in the tourist information office wrote “10:45” on the ticket to indicate the time we were supposed to meet our coach at the coach station.  After a leisurely morning, Elaine and I arrived at the coach station well before 10:45 only to be told our tour bus had left at 10:00.  We learned there was another tour at 11:30 but a different company runs that tour, so we would have to buy more tickets.  Elaine and I set out to the Tourist Information office to collect a refund for our tickets.  When we arrived at the office, the man who made the mistake, Fergal, was waiting for us.  We didn’t have to explain what happened because he had received a call that alerted him to our situation.  He offered to take us in his car to catch up to the coach we had missed.  We agreed.  He also offered to give us a walking tour of Galway early this week for our trouble.  I am impressed by his efforts to make up for what is, really, a simple mistake.  These are smart moves, of course, because they impact whether or not I would use or recommend this tour company again.

We met the rest of the tour at the first stop, the town of Cong.  Cong was the setting for the movie, The Quiet Man, starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara.  While we didn’t have as much time as the other tourists, we did get to see the ruins of an Abbey and a cemetery. 

Elaine in the ruins of Cong Abbey

All late-morning and afternoon we drove through breathtaking scenery.  We saw mountains with countless coursing little and big streams.  We saw sheep and goats and even some “bachelor sheep farmers” walking in the country.  Our driver/tour guide, Michael, explained that most families left their farms to the eldest son.  The other children moved away to other towns in Ireland or immigrated.  According to Michael, some of these eldest sons have difficulty finding women who would agree to marry them and live on a rural farm, sometimes with in-house parents-in-law as part of the package.

We saw a male goat with one front and one back foot joined by a rope.  Michael told us the reason the owner does this is because goats are remarkably agile (“they can walk on the head of a pin”) and if they are not tied in this manner, they will jump over the fence and run off. 

We drove by many peat bogs and were told fascinating stories about how they were used to preserve food.   Occasionally while cutting bog to use for fuel, the Irish find what is referred to as “bog butter.”  Bog butter refers to the remains of food buried by people hundreds of years ago.  Apparently a bog is a good people-preservative, too.  I’m not going to go into detail, but extremely well preserved “bog bodies” have been discovered that date back over two thousand years. 

I was sad to learn that it costs more money to shear a sheep than the wool is worth.  Michael told us most of the sheep we saw were going to be sold for food.  I had taken such comfort in thinking of the sheep as generating a renewable product--wool. 

Elaine in Connemara

Taken from inside bus, so some reflection on the window

From inside the bus, again

On our journey we also saw the ruins of what are now referred to as “famine houses.”  A unique feature of a famine house is that its windows are bricked in.  Michael explained to us that English landlords decided to add a tax per window that their tenants were required to pay.  Unable to pay these taxes, the Irish bricked up their windows.  This led the British to claim that the Irish “stole the living daylight” from them.  According to Michael, this is the origin of that phrase. 

Famine House Ruins through a bus window

While we heard many sad stories on our tour, this next one brought me to tears.  The setting is the great potato famine.  While driving through a lovely area yesterday, Michael told us that during the great famine, 400 starving Irish walked miles to their landlord’s house.  They had not eaten in three weeks.  When the famine-ravaged Irish arrived at the landlord’s house, they found him hosting a large party.  He turned the tenants away.  Desperate, they began to walk back to their homes.  That night turned cold and all 400 people died.  News of the Irish famine spread to the Choctaw Indians of North America.  Sixteen years before the famine, the Choctaw had endured the 500 miles Trail of Tears during which they faced starvation and disease; over half of the Choctaw perished.  President Jackson had given each Choctaw one dollar.  They collected what money they had left, $711, and sent it to help alleviate the suffering of the starving Irish people. 

Our longest stop of the tour was at Kylemore Abbey and Victorian Walled Garden.  The history of Kylemore Abbey is both fascinating and tragic.  As newlyweds, Mitchell and Margaret Henry visited the Connemara region during their honeymoon.  Margaret fell in love with the beauty of the place and Mitchell purchased the hunting estate in the mountains where they stayed and built a castle for him and his wife.  The two lived a charmed life for many years.  When one of their children became ill, they took him to Egypt to speed his recovery.  While in Egypt, Margaret contracted dysentery and died within sixteen days.  She was only 45.  Heartbroken, Mitchell built a chapel to her memory on the grounds as well as a mausoleum.  Mitchell found it too sad to stay at the castle after one of his daughters died in an equestrian accident, so he moved back to England.  Most recently Kylemore was home to an order of Benedictine nuns who ran a school on the grounds.  The school closed recently. 

Kylemore Abbey

Inside the walled garden

The grounds of Kylemore Abbey

The grounds of Kylemore Abbey

The chapel

After such sad stories, I’ll end on a lighter note.  We drove through a little town called Recess.  One resident of recess commissioned a statue of Connemara (son of the sea) and the plaque underneath says it was built “for no apparent reason.”  We couldn’t see it, but there is also a plaque nearby that says something like, “In 1887 nothing of importance happened here.” 

I have shared many sad stories that I heard on the tour of Connemara, but our driver told many jokes and funny stories, too. While I carry those sad stories in my heart, my overall impression of the day is more of beauty and resilience than sadness and tragedy.  

Toward the end of our bus ride we were treated to the sight of a complete rainbow