Eirann

Eirann is the Irish, or Gaelic, name for Ireland and my friend Erin Heidrich is visiting right now.  Fitting.

Erin arrived on Wednesday afternoon on a train from Dublin, Heuston Station.   After delivering her things to my apartment (and the toothpaste and binder she brought me!), we spent time catching up before we headed out into Galway for an early dinner (chowder at the King’s Head Pub) and a little walk.  Yesterday Erin explored Galway while I worked on my book. 

Erin after her first meal in Galway--Seafood Chowder

Yesterday evening, Erin and I met a friend for coffee and then we had dinner at Il Folletto, an Italian restaurant in the Latin Quarter.  Our meals were amazing.  I ordered pumpkin tortellini and Erin ordered gnocchi with gorgonzola.  After dinner we walked up Shop Street to Tig Coili, a pub featuring live traditional music.  Sadly, after one song, the band stopped playing.  But we liked the pub, we had seats and we hoped the live music would start again, so we settled in with a drink.  I finally had my first Irish beer.  On the recommendation of NWU board member, Judith Maurer (I took notes when we met to talk about Ireland!), I ordered a Smithwicks.  Smithwicks is produced by Guinness.  I have never liked beer.  One of my hopes for this sabbatical is to develop an appreciation for the stuff.  Someone once remarked that this is surprising as I am an avid coffee drinker.  After sipping some of Erin’s Guinness, I understood what that person meant.  There is a similar strong taste.  However, when I tried Guinness, I was pretty sure hair was beginning to grow in my mouth. 

Rachel and Erin in Tig Coili Pub

Today Erin and I took a tour called the “Burren Wild Guided Walking Tour” that also took us to the Cliffs of Moher.

We boarded our tour bus at 10:00 AM and sat in the empty back row where we bounced along on narrow and winding roads, both of us with the pleasure of a window seat.

Our first stop was in the Burren Mountains for what is described online as a “gentle walking tour” with guide John Connolly.  Mr. Connolly grew up on a farm in the Burren that has been in his family for 200 years.  His family raises cattle on the land.  I loved this stop but I wouldn’t quite call the walk “gentle.”  Burren means “a place of rock” and I would say the place is adequately named.  We climbed part of the mountain over terrain that was a twisted ankle waiting to happen.

John Connolly was a wonderful guide who shared much information about a variety of topics, especially limestone.  Miles of stone walls made of limestone mark the Burren.  When early farmers cleared the land, they put the stones in piles.  Later they used the stones to build fences to keep livestock in place.  Today the fences serve this same function as well as demarcate property lines.  John drew our attention to a stone wall that went straight up a mountain and told us the following, striking, information:  during the great potato famine (1845 – 1852), British landlords called for the building of these useless walls.  The work kept some Irish busy while assuring, should the British lose their control, they were not contributing in a positive way to the infrastructure or economic system of the country.  This story sticks with me as I imagine desperate, hungry farmers carrying heavy rocks up steep mountains for no reason. 

The Burren

The Burren

John Connelly

After our gentle walk, we returned to the farmhouse in which John’s grandmother lived.  Erin and I shared a piece of apple pie with fresh cream.  John's mother baked the still-warm pie. 

We visited the Cliffs of Moher which drop 210 meters into the ocean.  Before we arrived at the cliffs, our bus driver/guide (not John Connelly), warned us to stay away from the edge of the cliff.  He told us that several weeks ago a tourist accidentally fell off the cliff and died.  Yikes.  As someone who acknowledges that grace is not her strong suit, I resolved to stay FAR away from the edge.  And I did. 

Cliffs of Moher

Cliffs of Moher

We ate lunch in a Doolin pub and then drove along a coast road with spectacular views of both ocean and countryside.   We passed many thatched-roof houses.  Our driver/guide told us that a straw thatch roof will last fifteen to twenty years while a reed thatch roof will last 35 – 40.  The cost of re-thatching a typical cottage is about 35,000 euro.  The Irish government provides grants to people to help defray this expense. 

House in the process of re-thatching (taken through bus window), look closely for the two cats on the chair in front

Our last stop was at Dunguaire Castle. 

Dunguaire Castle

Erin and I planned on visiting another pub tonight for live music, but we were both so tired from our excursion that we decided to bring home fish and chips from McDonaghs and have a quiet night.