10/9/19: Hamilton, MT We have been home now three and a half weeks. Brian is playing his guitar and we've had the second snow of this Fall. It is bright outside and my windows are full of shimmering yellow and chartreuse leaves. We are not letting go of Ireland and "moving on." We have family there and we're all staying in touch. Now we call on the phone. We received a gift for Brian that Andrew, Robert and Karena agreed would be wonderful to share: Har's pocket watch. Brian was speechless. We're not sure how old it is, but it's still working! (Har was a steady worker from dawn to dusk!) We have pictures on the wall from the trip, and of course the map still shows our red-lined journey from Dublin to Cork to Roscrea to Ballinamore.
I rode in the back seat of Andrew's car and took down notes when we'd get to talking. I've typed them up, but they are quite miscellaneous! One says "Ballymore built in the late 1600's. Bally means cluster of houses, not necessarily organized for governing. Ball also means mouth of a river, so Ballinamore translates big fort on the river. One says "unemployment blackspot" which means an industry shut down, leaving something like Detroit. Or "Gaelic is the only language that if someone came back from the Middle Ages, they could understand it now." (It is taught in all the schools, although only small pockets speak it exclusive of English.) Here's another gem, heard in a pub: "if there were flies on that man, they'd be paying rent!"
Both men and women smoked the white clay pipes we associate with the Irish. When a smoker died, his/her pipes were buried with them. And "Wheelie bins" are wheeled garbage cans as we know them. While I took as many notes as I could, mostly I wanted to soak up the softness of the folks we came in contact with. I understand, Ireland's history brims over with violence, famine, unemployment, and some want revenge and accountability. But we travelled with a man whose roots went directly to the land he was raised on, and still belongs to. He introduced us to men and women who will have a laugh despite their memories. They acknowledge the hard times, implying the grit, sheer tenacity and stubbornness it took to get through them.
I am emboldened by our trip. I carry the faces, the soft accents, the light rain and above all the warm hearts with me, and I know Brian does too.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
THE LAST LEG
9/14/19 Starting a "day" at 2 AM in a strange hotel is tough. I had my phone set, and had a wake-up call from the hotel. And it seemed to me arriving three hours early was a bit over the top. The taxi driver assured us we'd have plenty of time for coffee and breakfast. But the airport check-in filled up rapidly with hundreds of people standing in zig-zag ribbon-guided lines. Here was the spectrum of public emotions, from tearful to grouchy, chatty to isolated, again surrounding us, in all the colors of the rainbow, and all the colors of human skin. I belong to this family, I said to myself, we are forming a humongous energy field, unnamed and untapped, thanks to our ignorance and egos!
Flying over Paris, grey in early morning light, was thrilling only because we knew it was Paris! No Eiffel tower, no Notre Dame cathedral, but plenty of old buildings like any famous city in the world. The airport, however, must be relatively new, with light everywhere under a domed roof. Here were the most expensive stores in the world! Pravda, Lancôme, furriers, jewelers. The "arcade" was bright, white, and wide with easy entry to any store, but alas, we were hurrying for our next flight! I said to Brian, "Oh I wish I could get a little perfume for Autumn, but there's no time!" Within one minute a beautifully dressed woman offered me a pink rose, scented with Lancôme...a gift!
I had made a pledge to myself to sleep at every opportunity, which I found easy to do flying over the Atlantic. Brian, however, seemed to be awake and peering over the seats every time I roused. We had two quite adequate meals, plenty of liquids, and eventually watched a movie to pass the time. I found solace in watching the electronic screen with the little plane arching across towards the U.S.
In Minneapolis we found a People's Organic café in the food court, and gaily partook of two avocado toasts, a bottle of juice and a water, to the tune of $30! I was prepared for higher prices, but my naiveté came blasting through when she stated the price. I gave her my card, so grateful for friends and relatives who sponsored us so abundantly.
Flying into Missoula, I was a little concerned when Brian suddenly said, "Oh yeah, I've been here before."
"Sure you have!" I said.
He responded "Yeah, Albuquerque! I know this airport!"
When I suggested it might be Missoula, he responded "Well! they're quite close together you know!"
And as Disneyland as it seemed to land in Dublin only two weeks before, it was a Fairy Tale to pull into our little airport, safe and sound, and be greeted by our beloved Sheila Jaya, the caretaker of our hearts and home.
Flying over Paris, grey in early morning light, was thrilling only because we knew it was Paris! No Eiffel tower, no Notre Dame cathedral, but plenty of old buildings like any famous city in the world. The airport, however, must be relatively new, with light everywhere under a domed roof. Here were the most expensive stores in the world! Pravda, Lancôme, furriers, jewelers. The "arcade" was bright, white, and wide with easy entry to any store, but alas, we were hurrying for our next flight! I said to Brian, "Oh I wish I could get a little perfume for Autumn, but there's no time!" Within one minute a beautifully dressed woman offered me a pink rose, scented with Lancôme...a gift!
I had made a pledge to myself to sleep at every opportunity, which I found easy to do flying over the Atlantic. Brian, however, seemed to be awake and peering over the seats every time I roused. We had two quite adequate meals, plenty of liquids, and eventually watched a movie to pass the time. I found solace in watching the electronic screen with the little plane arching across towards the U.S.
In Minneapolis we found a People's Organic café in the food court, and gaily partook of two avocado toasts, a bottle of juice and a water, to the tune of $30! I was prepared for higher prices, but my naiveté came blasting through when she stated the price. I gave her my card, so grateful for friends and relatives who sponsored us so abundantly.
Flying into Missoula, I was a little concerned when Brian suddenly said, "Oh yeah, I've been here before."
"Sure you have!" I said.
He responded "Yeah, Albuquerque! I know this airport!"
When I suggested it might be Missoula, he responded "Well! they're quite close together you know!"
And as Disneyland as it seemed to land in Dublin only two weeks before, it was a Fairy Tale to pull into our little airport, safe and sound, and be greeted by our beloved Sheila Jaya, the caretaker of our hearts and home.
ROSCREA: SMALL TOWN, LONG HISTORY
This entry is out of order unfortunately. I'm not able to find a way to put it in order! The blame is on my laptop acting up! The dates are in order, however.
9/8/19: A few years ago Brian and I wanted to see Sting and Paul Simon in concert in Vancouver, B.C. We drove up to the Whitefish train station where they announced the train would be at least 4 hours late. (The passenger trains were being sidelined while the coal trains took precedence.) We drove south a little bit to the movie house and attended the movie Philomena. We knew it was about the Irish orphanages, but we didn't expect it to be Brian's story. We sobbed in our seats together, soberly returned to our car in the winter air, and drove back to the train station.
Flash forward to our sixth day on the Emerald Isle, having travelled up from Skibberreen, we settled into Slidala BnB in Roscrea. Our delightful hostess (and owner) welcomed us warmly, listened intensely to our story, then told us Roscrea was where Philomena's story took place (not the filming, but the actual experience). The web was weaving us, and there was so much more to come.
9/10/19 On Tuesday morning, we ventured out in the afternoon to Roscrea Castle, which dates to 1314, and is in remarkable condition considering the many permutations it has stood through. Originally built with wood, the walls are stone, and up to 2.5 metres thick in parts. Several impressions fell deep into my consciousness. First, this wasn't a home as much as a fortress. There were five ways to kill foot soldiers if they tried coming into the castle, including a wrought iron down-drop gate complete with numerous sharp points that would "skewer" them. Once inside the "great room" the guide brought our attention to the 3' x 3' hole in the floor, with a hinged, barred gate over the top. Below men were held prisoner, in the dark. If they became rowdy boiling water could be poured through.
We had a fireplace in my childhood home that could accommodate a 6' log. In this room the fireplace was 10' wide, to accommodate whole trees, probably much easier than sawing logs! The "kitchen" revealed another huge fireplace of course, and required the servants to run up and down narrow rock stairs to care for the various upstairs residents. The castle housed 350 soldiers in 1798 which, while roomy, would have bred all kinds of parasites and diseases since the officers had the best rooms, of course. Besides all the parade of Dukes and Earls that "owned" it at one point or another, it
served as a school, library, and tuberculosis sanatorium (not the surroundings that fostered health).
We walked across the courtyard (inhabited by numerous spirits, and ghosts I'm quite sure) to Damer House, built in 1725, a pleasingly symmetrical, three story, nine bay windowed structure . I literally gasped when we entered. A grand "Queen Anne" staircase dominated the entrance hall, with 8 layers of trim and incredible carvings of pine that have somehow withstood the hundreds of people who have come and gone. It was also used as a library, a training school, and again, a TB sanatorium. The dining room was furnished with period pieces, china, linen and tapastries that were extraordinary! I also enjoyed the "plate bucket," which was a tall bucket with a four inch strip removed. It was placed next to the fireplace to keep the plates warm, in case someone needed a second or third helping. And so much easier to carry up two flights of narrow rock stairs.
Changing centuries from Damer House, we walked over to the chain grocery to meet Brian's second cousin, Violet. Just returned on the train from visiting her husband, she was shopping for a few items and then we waited with her for the free public transportation for folks on "benefits." Violet's ample white hair glowed as we visited, her complexion clear as could be, and Andrews helped orient her to who Brian was. She was delighted to tell us stories, and had actually gone to a training class in Damer House in her earlier life. Pretty soon other elders were gathered about visiting with us, and the bus driver came in to round folks up.
9/8/19: A few years ago Brian and I wanted to see Sting and Paul Simon in concert in Vancouver, B.C. We drove up to the Whitefish train station where they announced the train would be at least 4 hours late. (The passenger trains were being sidelined while the coal trains took precedence.) We drove south a little bit to the movie house and attended the movie Philomena. We knew it was about the Irish orphanages, but we didn't expect it to be Brian's story. We sobbed in our seats together, soberly returned to our car in the winter air, and drove back to the train station.
Flash forward to our sixth day on the Emerald Isle, having travelled up from Skibberreen, we settled into Slidala BnB in Roscrea. Our delightful hostess (and owner) welcomed us warmly, listened intensely to our story, then told us Roscrea was where Philomena's story took place (not the filming, but the actual experience). The web was weaving us, and there was so much more to come.
9/10/19 On Tuesday morning, we ventured out in the afternoon to Roscrea Castle, which dates to 1314, and is in remarkable condition considering the many permutations it has stood through. Originally built with wood, the walls are stone, and up to 2.5 metres thick in parts. Several impressions fell deep into my consciousness. First, this wasn't a home as much as a fortress. There were five ways to kill foot soldiers if they tried coming into the castle, including a wrought iron down-drop gate complete with numerous sharp points that would "skewer" them. Once inside the "great room" the guide brought our attention to the 3' x 3' hole in the floor, with a hinged, barred gate over the top. Below men were held prisoner, in the dark. If they became rowdy boiling water could be poured through.
We had a fireplace in my childhood home that could accommodate a 6' log. In this room the fireplace was 10' wide, to accommodate whole trees, probably much easier than sawing logs! The "kitchen" revealed another huge fireplace of course, and required the servants to run up and down narrow rock stairs to care for the various upstairs residents. The castle housed 350 soldiers in 1798 which, while roomy, would have bred all kinds of parasites and diseases since the officers had the best rooms, of course. Besides all the parade of Dukes and Earls that "owned" it at one point or another, it
served as a school, library, and tuberculosis sanatorium (not the surroundings that fostered health).
We walked across the courtyard (inhabited by numerous spirits, and ghosts I'm quite sure) to Damer House, built in 1725, a pleasingly symmetrical, three story, nine bay windowed structure . I literally gasped when we entered. A grand "Queen Anne" staircase dominated the entrance hall, with 8 layers of trim and incredible carvings of pine that have somehow withstood the hundreds of people who have come and gone. It was also used as a library, a training school, and again, a TB sanatorium. The dining room was furnished with period pieces, china, linen and tapastries that were extraordinary! I also enjoyed the "plate bucket," which was a tall bucket with a four inch strip removed. It was placed next to the fireplace to keep the plates warm, in case someone needed a second or third helping. And so much easier to carry up two flights of narrow rock stairs.
Changing centuries from Damer House, we walked over to the chain grocery to meet Brian's second cousin, Violet. Just returned on the train from visiting her husband, she was shopping for a few items and then we waited with her for the free public transportation for folks on "benefits." Violet's ample white hair glowed as we visited, her complexion clear as could be, and Andrews helped orient her to who Brian was. She was delighted to tell us stories, and had actually gone to a training class in Damer House in her earlier life. Pretty soon other elders were gathered about visiting with us, and the bus driver came in to round folks up.
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