Ennis to Bunratty, Limerick to Dingle
Good evening all,
I hope this finds you well. I am writing from a rather joyless seating area in a campsite just outside Killarney. It has been relentlessly raining since I arrived at lunchtime...but this is what makes Ireland so green...
I'll begin as promised by the story of Ennis. There is no campsite there so I had booked my only bnb in Ireland there through booking.com. I followed my map to arrive at a suburban street...there was no house number on the booking so I asked a woman who was doing her garden. She told me rather exasperatedly that she had told her neighbour time and again to put up a sign and there were always lost looking people. I was a bit, oh no...it's an air bnb...I had been looking forward to sorting all my stuff out and repacking and relaxing, and really didn't feel like interacting with people where I was staying...and was hoping it wouldn't be a whole family...I was in good spirits but not feeling sociable. I called the number which was unobtainable and then checked the booking again...check in was from 6pm and it was only 2. Oh well I thought, I can go to the yarn shop, have a look around, and since I might have to be sociable, have a couple of drinks.
I found a town that felt so alive, no chain stores at all that I could see, buskers on the streets and just such a lovely atmosphere. I went to the shop called Féirín (Irish for treat) and a treat it was, so much variety, and the lovely Theresa was so nice to talk to. I got some nice sea coloured yarn for a pledger, and then went and had a pint or two, and an amazing and very cheap Goulash in a cafe, and then went to see a sight that had really piqued my interest when I saw it on the map. The Muhammad Ali Monument! I've always admired him (as a person, I've no interest in boxing at all). It was small, but fitting...commemorating when he came to visit Ennis, the birthplace of his great-grandfather. According to my DNA test, my oldest paternal roots are here too...but I wouldn't dare to dream of being related to him!
By now it was time to check in...so I returned to the Terry and June street. No answer, no answer on the phone either. By now it was getting late, starting to rain and I'm sitting outside a house with all my stuff. And I could see a newspaper hanging out the letterbox, and a dog inside, a Staffie, and they hate being alone. I was getting a bit cross, but then a little unsettled...I could see a huge amount of stuff piled up in another room...not mess...but clearly hoarding. Another neighbour pulled up in his car, and I asked if the woman usually kept guests waiting, and he gave a slightly odd look and said no, he didn't think so. But I could tell he wasn't exactly telling me the full story. I called up booking.com, they said they would call and email her but if I didn't hear back within half an hour to call again, and they would find something else for me. My battery was dwindling, and I was getting wet and less cross, and more worried. No one would leave a Staffie alone for a whole day (well no one whose home you would want to stay in anyway). I thought maybe the woman was unwell or even worse...still no word, and so I called back, and got the loveliest woman on the phone...she went as fast as she could, found me somewhere, in the town, sent me directions and was just so kind and understanding...she sent an email after to check all was ok in the new place. I told her if she ever found herself in London, or anywhere I knew people, she could email and I would do my best to help her out. She replied that she would bear that in mind but she had never in her life actually left the state of Florida....to a European that seems so shocking....and especially given she works where she does...you would think they would send their employees on holidays some time or other! I've never been to the States myself...but I know that so many Americans don't travel (but an awful lot seem to make it to Ireland). The hotel she sent me to was very posh, and completely populated by Americans. I wasn't dressed for it (I've brought clothes for camping). The staff (but none of the customers) made their disapproval extremely clear...it was uncomfortable- and so was the bed. It was the worst nights' sleep I've had. However, at breakfast, when I was still being gazed upon down noses, a lovely American lady came up and recognised me from Galway...we had a little chat and she bemoaned that she couldn't find much selection of yarn there...so I happily sent her to Féirín, so hopefully have put more business their way. I guess I'll never know what happened to the planned host...I did knock next door and explained my concerns, especially about the dog. She didn't really seem all that surprised, but thanked me for telling her.
Hotel aside, the atmosphere in Ennis was so great, so full of life, so full of people making their living independently....I know the tourist dollar helps, but it felt a bit deeper than that...the atmosphere in the pubs, in the streets was so nice. The wonderful Kate Tempest's poem, Europe is Lost, instantly resonated with me when I heard it. But I don't think she's been everywhere in Europe. I have a strong sense that Ireland isn't lost, and in fact the western fringe in all. I get this sense in Portugal too, and there in common with Iceland, is going to the left politically, progressively, humanely. Brittany too, is consistently the region of France where the Front National never seem to gain much ground, or interest. Maybe being close to the ocean makes people more outward looking and accepting?
It was a nice day when I left Ennis and moved into Bunratty, a small town with a big castle and lots of posh hotels and holiday homes. If anywhere in Ireland that I've been to is actually lost, it is there. Killed by investment it would seem. The only shop is a minimal petrol station so you can see that people don't actually live there, and the staff in the two pubs I went to looked unhappier than anywhere else I've been here...It was a bit sad. I also had the most expensive and most English tasting Guiness there (i.e. it was a bit shit). What was even more offputting was the fact that this was in a beautiful with century coaching inn, and it was plastered in badges from just about every USPD...considering the long-standing police brutality which still continues towards people of colour there, it made me feel a bit sick. Have there been actually murderers who hid behind a blue uniform drinking there? Quite possibly. I didn't want to eat there so went round the corner to the other pub and ate a dreadful Irish stew, because I was hungry. I love stews, and I'm not in any way a fussy eater so to put me off is no mean feat. Both seem to be places that don't expect return visitors. I'm sure the castle and folk village are gorgeous, but that's not the sort of thing I'm doing on this trip; big tourist attractions are out of budget and would eat into my crochet time too much. However, the campsite was an absolute dream....a beautiful mile long walk out of town, so quiet, gorgeous views...I sat on my laybag and caught up with my crochet and wrote my last blog, played fetch with a lovely Labrador for a looooong time, and listened to the birds....splendid.
And then into Limerick! Wow! If I thought Ennis was alive, Limerick is alive on ecstasy....I was only supposed to stay an hour to quickly visit a shop but decided to get a later bus. I got an amazingly warm welcome at Lena's shop, which was a delight....such happy, friendly people, I could not recommend this place more highly. I found yarn which looked like petrol on water, which someone had requested but I never thought I would find. Elaine the manager explained that Limerick had recently won the all Ireland hurling for the first time in 45 years and it was a massive deal. The shop was buzzing....imagine a yarn shop with three people working in this day and age, with so many customers. But they took time to chat, they were so interested in my project, and we all took loads of photos. I bought my yarn, then she insisted on giving me more in Limerick colours of green and white, and a Limerick flag to put on my tent. I later realised that I probably won't put it up anywhere else in ireland- it wouldn't go down too well in the rival counties of Kerry and Cork! But in future, I will. I went to the market and had the best Irish breakfast imaginable...and the others have been brilliant. The market looked like Borough market, but it didn't feel like it....it was brimming with energy and oozing with soul. It confirmed my impression that Ireland really isn't lost. So nice, it made me feel really high.
But every high has it's low, and that was my journey away....a very crowded bus, with people being pretty unpleasant to each other, which I'd rather not go into, but was pretty distressing. Perhaps they were just sad to be leaving Limerick. I know I was, maybe if I'd had someone with me to take it out on, I might have been the same....who knows. It was a long journey, changing at Tralee....I was starting to feel pretty ropey from the stale air, heat, upset and the noise....but as soon as I got off the bus in Dingle and smelled the sea air, my bad feelings just melted away. And it must have boded well, because my time in Dingle was very special...I'll tell all in my next blog entry, I think I've gone on enough, and there is a lot to write about my time there. Besides, I need to brave the pouring rain to go and make a cup of tea...
Love and light to you all, Billy xxx
I hope this finds you well. I am writing from a rather joyless seating area in a campsite just outside Killarney. It has been relentlessly raining since I arrived at lunchtime...but this is what makes Ireland so green...
I'll begin as promised by the story of Ennis. There is no campsite there so I had booked my only bnb in Ireland there through booking.com. I followed my map to arrive at a suburban street...there was no house number on the booking so I asked a woman who was doing her garden. She told me rather exasperatedly that she had told her neighbour time and again to put up a sign and there were always lost looking people. I was a bit, oh no...it's an air bnb...I had been looking forward to sorting all my stuff out and repacking and relaxing, and really didn't feel like interacting with people where I was staying...and was hoping it wouldn't be a whole family...I was in good spirits but not feeling sociable. I called the number which was unobtainable and then checked the booking again...check in was from 6pm and it was only 2. Oh well I thought, I can go to the yarn shop, have a look around, and since I might have to be sociable, have a couple of drinks.
I found a town that felt so alive, no chain stores at all that I could see, buskers on the streets and just such a lovely atmosphere. I went to the shop called Féirín (Irish for treat) and a treat it was, so much variety, and the lovely Theresa was so nice to talk to. I got some nice sea coloured yarn for a pledger, and then went and had a pint or two, and an amazing and very cheap Goulash in a cafe, and then went to see a sight that had really piqued my interest when I saw it on the map. The Muhammad Ali Monument! I've always admired him (as a person, I've no interest in boxing at all). It was small, but fitting...commemorating when he came to visit Ennis, the birthplace of his great-grandfather. According to my DNA test, my oldest paternal roots are here too...but I wouldn't dare to dream of being related to him!
By now it was time to check in...so I returned to the Terry and June street. No answer, no answer on the phone either. By now it was getting late, starting to rain and I'm sitting outside a house with all my stuff. And I could see a newspaper hanging out the letterbox, and a dog inside, a Staffie, and they hate being alone. I was getting a bit cross, but then a little unsettled...I could see a huge amount of stuff piled up in another room...not mess...but clearly hoarding. Another neighbour pulled up in his car, and I asked if the woman usually kept guests waiting, and he gave a slightly odd look and said no, he didn't think so. But I could tell he wasn't exactly telling me the full story. I called up booking.com, they said they would call and email her but if I didn't hear back within half an hour to call again, and they would find something else for me. My battery was dwindling, and I was getting wet and less cross, and more worried. No one would leave a Staffie alone for a whole day (well no one whose home you would want to stay in anyway). I thought maybe the woman was unwell or even worse...still no word, and so I called back, and got the loveliest woman on the phone...she went as fast as she could, found me somewhere, in the town, sent me directions and was just so kind and understanding...she sent an email after to check all was ok in the new place. I told her if she ever found herself in London, or anywhere I knew people, she could email and I would do my best to help her out. She replied that she would bear that in mind but she had never in her life actually left the state of Florida....to a European that seems so shocking....and especially given she works where she does...you would think they would send their employees on holidays some time or other! I've never been to the States myself...but I know that so many Americans don't travel (but an awful lot seem to make it to Ireland). The hotel she sent me to was very posh, and completely populated by Americans. I wasn't dressed for it (I've brought clothes for camping). The staff (but none of the customers) made their disapproval extremely clear...it was uncomfortable- and so was the bed. It was the worst nights' sleep I've had. However, at breakfast, when I was still being gazed upon down noses, a lovely American lady came up and recognised me from Galway...we had a little chat and she bemoaned that she couldn't find much selection of yarn there...so I happily sent her to Féirín, so hopefully have put more business their way. I guess I'll never know what happened to the planned host...I did knock next door and explained my concerns, especially about the dog. She didn't really seem all that surprised, but thanked me for telling her.
Hotel aside, the atmosphere in Ennis was so great, so full of life, so full of people making their living independently....I know the tourist dollar helps, but it felt a bit deeper than that...the atmosphere in the pubs, in the streets was so nice. The wonderful Kate Tempest's poem, Europe is Lost, instantly resonated with me when I heard it. But I don't think she's been everywhere in Europe. I have a strong sense that Ireland isn't lost, and in fact the western fringe in all. I get this sense in Portugal too, and there in common with Iceland, is going to the left politically, progressively, humanely. Brittany too, is consistently the region of France where the Front National never seem to gain much ground, or interest. Maybe being close to the ocean makes people more outward looking and accepting?
It was a nice day when I left Ennis and moved into Bunratty, a small town with a big castle and lots of posh hotels and holiday homes. If anywhere in Ireland that I've been to is actually lost, it is there. Killed by investment it would seem. The only shop is a minimal petrol station so you can see that people don't actually live there, and the staff in the two pubs I went to looked unhappier than anywhere else I've been here...It was a bit sad. I also had the most expensive and most English tasting Guiness there (i.e. it was a bit shit). What was even more offputting was the fact that this was in a beautiful with century coaching inn, and it was plastered in badges from just about every USPD...considering the long-standing police brutality which still continues towards people of colour there, it made me feel a bit sick. Have there been actually murderers who hid behind a blue uniform drinking there? Quite possibly. I didn't want to eat there so went round the corner to the other pub and ate a dreadful Irish stew, because I was hungry. I love stews, and I'm not in any way a fussy eater so to put me off is no mean feat. Both seem to be places that don't expect return visitors. I'm sure the castle and folk village are gorgeous, but that's not the sort of thing I'm doing on this trip; big tourist attractions are out of budget and would eat into my crochet time too much. However, the campsite was an absolute dream....a beautiful mile long walk out of town, so quiet, gorgeous views...I sat on my laybag and caught up with my crochet and wrote my last blog, played fetch with a lovely Labrador for a looooong time, and listened to the birds....splendid.
And then into Limerick! Wow! If I thought Ennis was alive, Limerick is alive on ecstasy....I was only supposed to stay an hour to quickly visit a shop but decided to get a later bus. I got an amazingly warm welcome at Lena's shop, which was a delight....such happy, friendly people, I could not recommend this place more highly. I found yarn which looked like petrol on water, which someone had requested but I never thought I would find. Elaine the manager explained that Limerick had recently won the all Ireland hurling for the first time in 45 years and it was a massive deal. The shop was buzzing....imagine a yarn shop with three people working in this day and age, with so many customers. But they took time to chat, they were so interested in my project, and we all took loads of photos. I bought my yarn, then she insisted on giving me more in Limerick colours of green and white, and a Limerick flag to put on my tent. I later realised that I probably won't put it up anywhere else in ireland- it wouldn't go down too well in the rival counties of Kerry and Cork! But in future, I will. I went to the market and had the best Irish breakfast imaginable...and the others have been brilliant. The market looked like Borough market, but it didn't feel like it....it was brimming with energy and oozing with soul. It confirmed my impression that Ireland really isn't lost. So nice, it made me feel really high.
But every high has it's low, and that was my journey away....a very crowded bus, with people being pretty unpleasant to each other, which I'd rather not go into, but was pretty distressing. Perhaps they were just sad to be leaving Limerick. I know I was, maybe if I'd had someone with me to take it out on, I might have been the same....who knows. It was a long journey, changing at Tralee....I was starting to feel pretty ropey from the stale air, heat, upset and the noise....but as soon as I got off the bus in Dingle and smelled the sea air, my bad feelings just melted away. And it must have boded well, because my time in Dingle was very special...I'll tell all in my next blog entry, I think I've gone on enough, and there is a lot to write about my time there. Besides, I need to brave the pouring rain to go and make a cup of tea...
Love and light to you all, Billy xxx
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