I KNEW IT!!!

I got my first official visitor: my cousin Megan!! When I moved here I was trying to decide who would be the first person to come visit and my mind went immediately to Megan. Of all people I know, she’s the one most likely to spontaneously grab her passport and a great airline deal and fly away for the weekend. And lo, she was in Ireland 2 weekends ago. Her husband was in the Czech Republic filming the remake of the Omen (he’s a cinematographer, this was big, big Hollywood production not some stupid Blair Witch thing) and she was visiting him as I’m told good wives do. So she popped over for a few days. It was great to see her. I love hanging out with her. She’s funny and wry and intelligent. The last time I saw her was at my graduation party in LA in 2003. Wow, 2 years ago. So anyway… Being a photographer, I figured she’d love the Aran Islands as much as I do so we hopped on a train and headed to Galway. She’s an a m a z i n g photographer… check her out here, buy lots:
http://meganschoenbachler.com

Anyway, we hopped on the train Friday afternoon which it turns out is the most popular time to got to Galway. Who knew? Good news, we found seats. Some people had to stand or sit in the aisle the entire 2.5 hour trip. Bad news, the seats were in the middle of a stag party weekend. Actually, it wasn’t bad. They were reasonably well behaved; shared their beer, kept it to a dull roar, played some poker, shared their Pringles. Nice guys really. Long train ride though. We checked into our B+B, the Prague House, which was really nice. I much prefer to stay in a guest house than a hotel; so much more character. Galway is known as a party town, the place most people go for stag or hen nights, birthdays, etc… (in retrospect, I should have known that train would be popular. Huh.) When I was interviewing here last year, (can scarcely believe it’s been a year since we made that trip) Melanie, Jenn and I had a great time the one night we were there and I’ve been meaning to go back. The food is fantastic; there are lots of clubs and pubs. Not too tough to find a good time. So we went out to explore and ended up at a place called McSwiggans, which I’d eaten in before. Very unique little place; 4 stories, comprised of 1 restaurant and several small pubs and a 2 story tree for support/show. Great food though. Megan, poor dear, was having troubles with her sinuses and didn’t have the energy to out. So home we went, to bed, early like good little girls. The next morning we got up, got ready and went down for her first Irish breakfast. Poor thing. When I was in LA, Megan was a mostly vegetarian and a full Irish breakfast… not so veggie-rich. It conisists of an egg, bacon (which is like a thick slice of really salty ham here), sausage, tomato, toast. Options also include beans, potato farls (which Flatmate Suzie makes for me and are really yummy. Sort of like a potato pancake but with mashed potato, flour, egg, onion, and black pepper. Love them!) Where was I? Oh right…. Potato farls or hashbrowns. All on one plate. It’s a lot and in guesthouses, it’s also served with cereal and fresh fruit. Unfortunately, she was expecting bacon and eggs like we have in the US and I forgot to explain to her about the Irish version of bacon. She had eggs, toast and cereal. Less than traditional Irish, but she just couldn’t eat the bacon or the sausage. For the record, I can’t handle the sausage either. It just isn’t the same consistency, no spice to it, it’s too thick… Yuck. So we had breakfast, paid our bill and headed into town (a 5 minute walk) to do some shopping before we caught the ferry to the Islands. (Galway is also known for its shopping) We strolled thru a mini-farmers market that had possibly the worst singer/songwriter in history. I have no idea why, but when we got to her I grabbed Megan and said something really supportive like “I’m going to club her with that guitar; let’s move on”. She laughed and we did. The rest of the market was really good though. Shame I couldn’t stock up… there’s a cheese monger that shows up to the Dun Logheire market I love who makes the most amazing cheeses and we were standing outside his store. Seafood stalls, a great olive/sundried tomato/marinated artichokes/tapanade stall… one stall was hand made soap and candles… sigh. On we went to the ferry, sans foodie booty.

The ferry is actually a 45 minute bus ride out of Galway and that’s when we learned that swaying busses make us both motion sick. Not a good ride, but we made the ferry and had some food before we boarded the boat. That wasn’t a bad ride over if I remember correctly. I tried to eavesdrop on the Italians behind us. Unsuccessfully I might add. Some strange accent on them. And I was pretty busy chatting with Megan and concentrating on not throwing up. See? Not a bad ride, but far from a good one. We disembarked (is that a word?) 45 minutes later and somehow managed to meet the one loud mouthed American on board, Harold. (not us, sheesh!) He was visiting with 2 friends of his and as we walked off the docks we decided to take the bus tour together. It was getting late, there wasn’t much sun left so in order for Megan to see it all, we took the bus tour, which I highly recommend. The guys, Red and Ross are Dublin boys. Red is a jazz musician who was playing at the Cork Jazz Festival last weekend when a mutual friend introduced him to Howard, who then decided to stay with Red and Ross in Dublin for the week. It was odd. He’s one of life’s great guys, but he’s really not for everyone. Especially Megan and me. And really, the boys thought he was funny in that “I’m saddled with this and it’ll make a great story later, so I’ll focus on that instead of how much I want to suffocate him in his sleep” way. He talked and talked and talked. The tour guide would say something and then Howard would start talking about how “at home…” whatever. At one point, we were gazing on the majestic seaside vista and he starts to tell me about all the horror calls he got on 9-11 from people in the city. Are you kidding me?! That’s what you’re using for conversation filler?! Sigh… The tour guide left us at the bottom of the hill for Dun Aengus, a pre-historic ring fort, and gave us just over an hour to hike to the top, buy souvenirs and then meet him for our ride home. Megan and I hiked on ahead since Howard was buying the contents of one of the shops and the sun was going down quickly. It is an amazing hike and the view keeps getting better and better as you go higher. Anyone who visits can expect to make this trip, by the way. Off to the left we could see the ocean spray launching itself over a cliff, to the right was a field littered with the limestone outcrops that make up the island. At the top is the fort, which is cut limestone stacked to form an inner and outer ring. The view is amazing. It butts up to the west side of the island, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The cliff is a sheer drop 1000s of feet down to the ocean waves. The wind from the ocean is so strong coming off the cliff; you need to lie down at the edge in order to see over it. People have been blown off, so the approach is very slow and crawling on all fours. Not dignified, but the view is worth it. The waves breaking on the island must be 30 feet tall. It’s hard to gauge height from that high up. I stayed there and watched it as long as my face could take the wind. It’s so loud and peaceful all at the same time. All I could hear was the wind and a small roar of the ocean. I love being there. Finally it was time to go, mostly because Howard was sitting with Megan on the edge talking at her. Not with her, AT her and on the way up she, ummm… politely inquired about how easy it would be for someone to go over the edge. J So we hiked back down the hill, Red much slower than the rest of us because he was dressed in full College Professor Gear, including tweed jacket and leather dress shoes. Note of caution for my friends: Dress shoes aren’t the best for hiking. I’m no expert but it did seem a bit stupid. We decided to have dinner with the boys and then hit the town to sample the night life. Inis Morr, the big island, has a total of 14 villages and 800 people living in those 14 villages, so we really weren’t expecting much of a life after dark. Dinner was a pretty interesting affair. The waitress was a scared little rabbit who has only been working there since the summer. She was cute and really trying her best, so we could forgive the fact that she poured Megan and I a room temperature bottle of white wine. Not a bit of a chill on that sucker. So we sent it back, which confused her. We asked the other waiter, who seemed a lot more experienced, to change it out for us and he actually said no, he couldn’t do that. We ordered it, he’d bring us ice, but he wouldn’t take it back. We asked for the manager who was mortified, changed it out immediately, apologized and then returned halfway thru the meal to inform us that his wine cooler had stopped working and that none of the white wine was cold. Thanks there, sir. He also knocked ½ the price of the wine off for us. Howard dominated the converstation thru the entire meal and at one point he was talking so much I put my silver down and asked him (told really) “You’re genuinely uncomfortable with silence, aren’t you?” He, to his credit, didn’t blink and replied “yes.” And then rattled on. I quit listening then. It was all just too much… Now the thing about the Islands that I like the best is when the sun goes down. There is absolutely no light pollution. It’s so dark and deathly quiet. I’ve never been in dark like that… and I love that the silence fills your ears like white noise; it just echoes. We managed to find our way to a bar, there are not street lights, and settled in for a pint and some music. The band was ok but by then I was so done in it was hard to stay awake. That’s when we found out the boys (Red and Ross) are actually cokeheads. They were slipping quietly into the restroom for a little recreational snorting. When I tell this story to people here, they sort of stop and gape and say something along the lines of “It’s the Aran Islands! Most people go there to get away from city life!” Which is essentially true. It’s not exactly party central and I still have a difficult time understanding how they thought it would make it a better time. They were excited to go on the trip; both of them knew what they were getting into. So really, drugs on the island are like popping a valium before your massage. The bar was pretty much like any other pub in Ireland, except that everyone knew each other. When Jenn, Mel and I went, we stayed on the small island and had the weirdest experience at the pub. We were walking down from our guesthouse and met a guy on the road who was also going to the pub, because in his words, what else was there to do? When we got to the pub 5 minutes later, he reached out to open the door, paused and asked us “you ready for this?” and in we went. He skated to the opposite side of the bar and we never saw him again that night. But everyone at the bar saw us. They stopped talking and watched us walk to the bar and take our seats. It was eerie. Not hostile, just really movie strange. Everyone there was speaking Irish and I swear someone would call out a code because everyone so often the entire bar would stop talking. Full stop, not a peep uttered out of anyone. We finished our one pint and then left. Just as the door swung shut, we heard the entire bar spring to life again. It was weird… This time however, much friendlier. Guess the big city Islanders get more tourism. Anyway, we took the island taxi home, which is the same van we took our tour in and it’s shared by anyone who needs a ride, you just get dropped off and charged 2.50 a person. We said good bye to the boys and tucked ourselves in our very comfy b+b. Morning dawned (as it is wont to do) we had breakfast (cereal, toast and coffee) and then boarded the 8:30 boat back to Galway. Rough seas… not a great trip. Not a good trip. Lots of deep breathing and staring at my feet. Back on land, then back on the wavy bus, we headed back to Dublin so Megan could fly back to the Czech Republic. The thing about me and homesickness is, I’m never homesick until people leave and then it overwhelms me. Coming back from New York I was really depressed. And I was just getting over it when Megan arrived. It was amazing to see her and I had a great weekend. Wouldn’t trade it for the world. But now I’m homesick… I miss my family, being near them, being able to call at a moments notice instead of scheduling it. Sigh… Amazing visit though. Love you Megan, thanks for coming over.