April 10, 2005 – Fifth Day in Ireland
Built Ram Tough
During the night and into the morning I had to turn on the heat. It was clearly working well as the knobs were melted and misshapen. I never figured out how the towel warmer worked. There were no switches or knobs and it was cold until you needed it to be warm. Leprechauns? Fairies? Or was it just somehow tied into the shower controls. This mystery is yet unsolved.
Continuing with our usual routine, we got up early, piled on the bus and made our way along country roads to another scenic attraction. A few of our group didn’t make it for this jaunt. I guess the pub hours were catching up with them. Still, most of us did make it and this impressed Tony as he settled in behind the wheel. He complimented us on our stamina, humor and curiosity.
We would have had even less people with us until Tony explained that most of the stores would be closed. After all, this is Sunday. And those that would be open were so only from 2:00 to 6:00. So the diehard shoppers among us were out of luck.
Today we visited Kylemore Abbey and Garden in Connemara. However, if one obstinate ram had his way, we’d have never gotten there. He stood stern in the middle of the road indifferent to the behemoth mass of metal and fuel coming towards him. We stopped. He slowly advanced. His stare unbroken. This went on long enough to take pictures. How strange we must have looked to him. This mass of poor creatures locked in this rolling box while he was free to graze, bask in the sun and thwart our navigation.
He teased us for a bit more. Walking off to the side then stepping back in our path. Strutting slowly in front until finally, with a beep of our horn, he galloped off to the side and let us pass.
Further on up the road we stopped to watch a group of ewes and their babies. As we exited the bus, their seemingly mild manners changed to constant yelling. As if they were saying, “Get back on the bus before Barry comes and bucks you!” Barry being the name I decided to give our surly road block.
Five Rooms at the Abbey
Our drive took us thru the Gaelic speaking countryside of Connemara, made famous by the movie The Quiet Man which was filmed here. Many locals enjoy watching the film for many reasons, but in large part because they get a kick out of John Wayne’s fleeting attempts at an Irish accent.
Kylemore Abbey and Garden is the home of the Benedictine order of nuns in Ireland. It is also an all girl school which piqued the curiosity of the men on the trip. We joked about finding the dormitories, purely for cultural research. However I don’t think the nuns would have agreed to such a thing. All that aside, this is an impressive structure that rises up over the rivers, lakes and hills of Connemara.
We ate lunch in the cafeteria style eatery adjacent to the gift shop. After eating my egg salad sandwich, I took a quick look around the shop. As usual, I did not buy anything. I’m not one to buy souvenirs. I prefer taking pictures. If I am to buy anything, it is usually a book. There wasn’t anything here I wanted. So it was off to the Abbey where we discovered that only five of the multitude of rooms were open to the public. After all, this is a working school. Still, it is worth the trip for the views alone.
There is also a tiny gothic church on the property that was built between 1877 and 1881 by J. F. Fuller. He incorporated many elements from the great English medieval cathedrals only … smaller. After many years of weathering the dampness of the area, the nuns began to restore the church in 1992 and the work is ongoing.
Upon our return to Galway, we stopped into the Galway Cathedral. A grand structure that is home to some great recitals all year round. It is a modern building with mixture of many influences. Completed in 1965, it stands on the site of an old city jail. Apparently there is a memorial to John F. Kennedy somewhere inside. Try as we might, none of us could find it. We all did see the temporary memorial to Pope John Paul II on the alter.
The Cathedral is home to a large pipe organ. Built in 1966 by Rushworth & Dreaper of Liverpool, it has 45 registers, divided over three manuals and pedals, as well as the usual couplers and accessories. The action is electro-pneumatic throughout (I did a little research). Though we could not here it today, I’m sure the sound is fantastic.
We did get to hear the acoustics of the cavernous space when a cell phone went off. Looking around for the culprit I discovered that it was the homeless woman who, only moments before, had been begging for pittance outside. I knew that the cellphone culture was big in Europe, but this is silly.
The Official Pub Crawl
Tonight was our only official pub crawl. Thanks to Sean Murphy’s friend Brian for coming up with the names of the various stops for the night.
Brian, who lived in NYC for 19 years, was now back in his hometown. Later in the night he’d confess to being happy that he was home, but that he dearly missed the friends he made in NY.
Beforehand, I did a little more exploring of the city center. Being Sunday, there was not much going on as we were warned. I ran into McDermott and we just walked about and did the shutterbug thing. I did find a place to check my email. I was very proud of myself. Though tempted in Killarney one night to check in on my office, and again in Galway on this day, I pretty much stayed away. Part of my problem when it comes to vacationing is letting go of the work world back home. This is something I am learning how to do more and more.
After showering and watching the Simpsons, we all met in the hotel bar at 5:30. Sean was busy drawing up a map to guide us all using the information he had gotten from Brian. I was busy getting a pint.
Hurling
The pub crawl would take us thru many aspects of nightlife here and, being Sunday, the crowds were far more bearable then the previous night. We started out at Taaffes where a regular traditional music session was taking place. It’s simply a hang for locals to jam and socialize. Unlike other ‘traditional’ music we’d experienced, this did not feel forced or packaged. Just real. On the TV—no, not golf—there was hurling. A sadistic mix of field hockey and a street riot. Bloodied and beaten these guys, playing completely unprotected, are nuts. It is very exciting to watch. Much more so than golf.
Next up was McSwiggins for dinner. This is a confusing, multi-level joint. Not confusing in a bad way. More like being in a labyrinth and your reward in the end was a great dinner. Credit card payments were an adventure. Apparently they had just gotten their new machine and it was being stubborn tonight.
We were already a touch behind schedule, but no matter. Now it was on to the Skeff. A place, much like the Quays only not as ornate, that seemed to be modeled after a church. Again with the dark wood and stained glass. This was the first stop that Brian joined the group. Up to this point, we’d been joking, “Oh sure! List out all these bars and let loose the crazy drunk Americans on the town!”
After a few pints and falling further behind schedule, we walked to our next stop. O’Connells is a drinkin’ bar, pure and simple. Here we had a wall of honor dedicated to police from all over the US including the Port Authority Police of NY/NJ. It was here that Morgan decided we needed to do a shot. Shots did not seem to have the same place in Irish Society as in America. He hands me a shot of Tequilla and Tabasco. Phew!! I can see this coming in handy when one has the flu.
Now we were very late. It was decided to drop off the last stop but this did not solve one problem. It was Sunday and the front doors of our next stop would more than likely be locked. Brian said, “Follow me.” I was thinking, as we weaved our way from street to ally past various obstacles, we must be going to Brian’s flat. Instead we sneaked in thru the back door of Au Pucan. A lively place where the bands play in a boat. A fitting concept since the name means ‘the boat’. The folks were dancing, friendly and full of joy. This was a great place to cap our crawl and our trip.
I Never Called You a Prick…
Since the hotel bars are open all night, security is fairly tight. The manager was only trying to confirm that we were all guests and we were trying to get Brian in for a last drink. During these tense moments of a verbal scuffle came the quote of the trip when Brian said to the manager, “I never called you a prick. I said you were being a prick.”
Luckily Sean was able to make peace between everyone. Brian was allowed into the bar and we all laughed and drank more, not wanting our last night in Ireland to end. But it had to end and we were eventually in our rooms for our obligatory 4 hours of sleep before it was off to the airport.
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