April 6, 2005 – First Day in Ireland
Arriving in Shannon
It’s about 6:00 AM here in Ireland, but still 1:00 AM to my body. I didn’t sleep a wink, nor am I tired now. Some of us are already discussing plans to nap away the inevitable jet lag. I’m not sure yet what the best course of action will be for me. As the NYC contingency shuffles in to baggage claim, we meet up with Shannon and Christine who had flown in from Boston and arrived a few minutes before us. John and I stood counting the arrivals though it was clear to everyone around us that our math skills had been hampered by the champagne and luxury. By the way, we tortured our group with such references all day. For example, there was an incident where a woman in coach passed out and needed emergency medical attention. Another man became sick and vomited on the floor. I of course said, “That’s nothing! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to not spill your champagne while trying to work the remote to the personal video player?!”
One person in particular who was seated behind and off to the side of where we were standing, found this most amusing. I thought to myself, who is this guy laughing at us? This went on for a while but when all of the bags and travelers were accounted for, we headed out to meet our bus driver. That’s when I noticed this guy following us now. “Are you with the tour?” someone asked. “Yeah, I’m Tom.” To which we all let out a group hello.
Why is it that they can’t ever stamp your passport in a neat and orderly fashion? Wouldn’t it make the job of customs and immigration easier if they didn’t have to search thru looking for relevant stamps?
Standing with a sign that read “MurphGuide Tour” was our driver Tony Timlin from Dublin. Well truth be said, he was more than a driver. As the trip progressed we found in him a tour guide, guardian, humorist and historian. There are three things that make a perfect vacation:
- The people you travel with
- The place you travel to
- The person that guides you thru it all
As we walked out to the bus, we 3 1/2 Steves joked that everyone else needed to stay two steps behind us.
Cork 2005: European Capital of Culture
This year Cork took its place amongst other great European cities being name the Cultural Capital of Europe. It is a yearlong celebration of art, theater, music and more. I had the pleasure of taking part in the 2003 celebrations in Graz Austria. On this trip unfortunately I only had an hour to walk around the banner adorned streets with enough time to buy breakfast in an ultra modern looking place called Zaks. I ordered the “crispy bacon on toast” special. I think someone needs to speak to the culinary superiors of Ireland because, though tasty, this was really fried ham on challah bread and not at all ‘crispy’.
There was a sigh of disappointment among us when we discovered that the pubs were not yet open. They do not open until 10:30. Not to make us sound like a bunch of lushes. Keep in mind that, although it was 9:00 AM on local clocks, it was still the middle of the night for us.
Then it was back on the road to meet Sean and Jeannie Murphy, the organizers of this excursion. They had already been in Ireland for a week at this point thanks to a family wedding.
Tony handily navigated our very large bus along the gorse-lined country roads. The bight yellow gorse, though pretty to look at, is considered to be nothing more than a weed and a nuisance by the local farmers. Dense and thorny it hinders vegetation growth and wreaks havoc for grazing sheep who occasionally get trapped in its grips.
Welcome to Clonakilty
This town is the very definition of quaint with its colorful storefronts lining narrow streets. Though I would find such colors in the other stops, this place felt more warm overall. Plenty of smiles in the pubs and shops and I didn’t feel like I was being ‘sold’ anything. Unlike some experiences that were yet to come.
For lunch a couple of us stopped into Hart’s Coffee Shop. I had a very tasty garlic chicken sandwich and some tea. I needed the refueling to continue walking around town. I still had not taken a nap and was determined to not sleep until after midnight at the very least.
We walked around taking pictures as I fantasized about the possibility of relocating. The thought is not that fantastic really. The cost of living here is about the same as central New Jersey and the job market is stronger than anywhere else in Europe.
After a short trek to the beach I returned to the hotel for dinner. The beach was awesome to look at, as well as stand near. Winds gusted with the strength to tear down a house. Or so it felt. I would later lear that this was quite common. Also common are palm trees. That’s right, palm trees. Just one of the many contrasts that I will find pn this trip. Tony was quick to point out that these palm trees, which are native to New Zealand, were far tougher than those in the US. I suppose that they had to be to withstand the weather here. On a number of occasions, I found myself having a hard enough time just trying to stand in the wind.
Returning to the Randles Clonakilty Hotel for dinner would be the first time all of us would get to socialize. Certainly not the last. Thankfully this group of 19 was a fun bunch indeed. We’d soon discover the terrific amount of television and movies we grew up on as conversations often turned to quoting favorite sitcoms, movies and even commercials. The philosophies of Homer Simpson and Mel Brooks (among others) were plentiful.
A Night on the Town
Our first stop was Scannell—a basic local watering hole with a unique wall clock. Well, two actually. The one on the left had the minute hand, the one on the right had the hour. Confused us even when we were sober.
I ordered the Guinness because everyone told me that it somehow tastes better in Ireland. I had my doubts, but figured what the heck. Well, my doubts were correct. I hate to burst the bubble for everyone, but just as I discovered that the beer in Austria is not stronger than American beer (not a defense of American beer, just a fact), the Guinness here is Guinness. Still a extrordinary brew, just not any different or better. I spent most of the trip drinking Jameson Whiskey and Murphy Stout (which I prefer over Guinness anyway).
One thing that is different is the Coca Cola. If you’ve ever had it here and wondered why it was sweeter yet strangely not as syrupy, it’s because the still use real sugar.
I discovered a new beer called Smithwicks (pronounced ‘smidicks’ to weed out the tourists). It’s now available in NYC, but I had never tried it. It’s a dark, hardy ale. Smooth and tasty. The Guinness folks done good on this one.
Next on the agenda was De Barra. This is an award winning pub on many levels. It has been honored for its food, hospitality and of course music. From traditional Irish to Folk, performers make this a regular stop whenever in Ireland.
One performer who had a special connection to this place was Noel Redding who lived in the area. He would perform every Friday until his untimely passing in May 2003. The walls are adorned with his photos and gold records from his days with Jimi Hendrix.
Tonight we were here to see Gavin Moore on recommendations from several travelers and locals. Some of us were curious to hear him simply due to his famous uncles Luka Bloom and Christy Moore. I hate making comparisons when talking about music. Thankfully, Gavin can stand on his own merits. With an already solid grasp on imagery as well as melody, this young man will do just fine with no nepotism needed. We spoke briefly about his recent visit to NYC where he performed at, of all places, Arlene Grocery. “How’d that go?” I asked already knowing the answer. “Not so good,” he replied. As I walked out, I bought his CD, gave him a card and told him to contact me whenever he returned to NYC. Maybe I could try to get him into a venue more suited for his music.
Nightcaps & Loopholes
Most pubs in small-town Ireland, much like those in the UK, close rather early. The hours that are required by law are restrictive to say the least. Open at 10:30 AM any day, Monday through Wednesday closing time is 11:30 PM; Thursday through Saturday, it’s 12:30 AM; on Sunday, it’s 11:00PM.
There are two noticeable exceptions that take advantage of certain legal loopholes. A nightclub may stay open later than the pubs. How late is a bit arbitrary. Some say 2:00 AM, some say 3:30. Judging from the ruckus on the streets at 4:00, I’d say the latter is more accurate. What constitutes a club? It seems to be just three things; cover charge, loud music and dress code. Luckily the dress code usually just means no sneakers. It really matters little what else you are wearing, just watch the footwear.
The second exception benefits the lucky traveler. Hotel bars are required to keep serving as long as there are guests drinking. Many will stay open until dawn. The night manager usually acts as the bartender, doorman, receptionist and porter.
Maxwell Irwin’s Bar and Bistro in the Randles Clonakilty Hotel was our late-night haven. Friendly bartenders Mark and Tom listened curiously to our ramblings. They were also very helpful through out the day. Answering questions like, “Why do the shops close at 2:00 on Wednesdays? Is it a religious thing?” Mark replied, “Nah, we’re just lazy!”
The more politically correct answer is that, since the stores are open six days to accommodate folks who shop on the weekends, many small towns give their workers a break once a week by closing early.
We chatted a bit more about Clonakilty and Galway. That is the place everyone seems to love. I’ve heard it from people here and from those who live in NYC. Soon I’ll be able to judge for myself.
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