Randy, Kernie, and President Trump go to Ireland
Preface: Kernie and I recently visited Ireland for the first time. This trip was to check a box and to link up with a great friend Vicki, and her Irish (daughter Elizabeth’s) family. Our work was cut out for us with the expectation that the first day would find us gardening…
Travel: a thought on coming and going. Our flight took us to Frankfurt with a connection to Ireland where we were directed to a line and where we met a uniformed official who looked at our passports, made pleasant conversation, and then stamped them. This is a time-honored process, for us. Our flight home found us looking for a connecting flight in Munich where there were innumerable signs directing non EU passport holders to either scanning machines or lines with officials. We were nearly to our gate and filed at the nearest machine which directed us to a line--a very long line. We were going to miss our flight. And then we noted that the line fed to other sets of gates, none ours’. So we got out of line ("excuse me sir, where are you going?") and never saw a man in uniform. Two airline agents formed a line and cleared our passports (no uniform, no stamps, no pictures) as we were directed to our final gates.
No such ambiguity on return to the USA.
Just a few hours in, I pegged Dublin (read, EU) as expensive. The ten mile drive in a taxi cost 50 Euros. Dinners (nice restaurants) were commonly 50-60 Euros a piece. But on closer inspection, the Manhattan styled “bodegas” sold mandarin oranges for a dollar a pound and eggs for $4-5 for 12. Coffee on the street ran 3 euros, not far off from what we pay in Olympia.
The streets of Dublin are crowded and the whole world is represented there. I have only heard more languages spoken walking for an hour in a city in Manhattan (Times Square, specifically). In addition, the population was quite youthful and diverse ie skin colors of all shades, went along with all those languages. Our first Irish taxi driver was the last one we used. All the others covered Africa and Asia. I had a moment guessing where Mohammed was from when he spoke with a lilting accent of someone from the Indian subcontinent. “Are you from Pakistan?” I asked, “No, guess again.” “Ah you are from Bangaladesh.” He was astounded. “How did you know that?” Accent? What accent?
This was no vacation: our first morning found us in a Northern suburb of Dublin where we encountered Liz’s first house purchase. It remains a fix it upper; Kernie went upstairs to assemble IKEA furniture in the kid’s room and Vicki and I proceeded to the back yard—a moist 30x15 foot area of weeds and brambles. My technique making an area for gardening traces back centuries: think of farmers gathering peat—I used a flat edged shovel to dig 3 inch widths and pulled out the weeds, tryin to leave the wet soil in place. Memories of medical school warning old men about shoveling the sidewalk with the first snow (as it correlates with heart attacks from the labor) came to mind as I worked up a sweat and got breathless. Vicki and I paced ourselves and within just a few hours our work was done.
Leaving the house, we met the neighbors who were desperately trying to herd a house cat from under a car on the very narrow street (narrow streets are an icon of Ireland). I commented that I could help because I spent my mid career herding cats. The neighbor looked at me quizically so I explained: “I managed systems with doctors.” They understood. Kernie and I, with the help of yet another neighbor finally found success and a healthy but not happy cat safely inside. We had countered the bad press about America with Trump’s concurrent visit to Ireland. I will not mention him again.
After walking central Dublin the rest of the afternoon, we settled in to the B and B that was just a third of a mile from the Guinness property. Every day there, we had wonderful smells bathing us (notes of barley and malt and a hint of charcoal—or was it peat?). Having a kitchen, I became the breakfast man making quick outings in the morning for food while Vicki prepared Melita coffees with her favorite home roast brought from the USA.
The next morning found us with Liz and we watched her son play Gaelic Football. For an American, this was the ultimate confusing game taking on elements of rugby, soccer, and, wait for it, basketball. It was fast paced with body movements that reminded me of LaCrosse. I loved it! If only!
The tour of Ireland then commenced and we found ourselves guided by a ninety year old man, “Stormin’ Norman.” He got us to Cork on a train and then the bus tour began. We went to a port notable for being the last stop of the Titanic before setting off for New York. I was surprised to see a familiar statue that commemorated the loss of the Lusitania in WWI. The survivors were brought to this port of Cobh. We made it to the Blarney castle but chose not to kiss the Blarney Stone as a) Kernie and I have the gift already and b) the circular staircase of castles are narrow with tight curves and high steps. The people in the line advertising, “ninety minute wait” were uniformly grey haired, many with canes and few with walkers. We had a great time on the grounds that featured a garden of poisonous plants among other gardens and forested glens. We had sun.
We had a hotel in Kilarney for two nights. We arrived late and chose to eat in the hotel. I had not had Guinness, Irish Whiskey, or Irish Stew so I caved; two glasses of Irish Whiskey and a surprisingly meaty and wholesome, delicious stew.
We did the Ring of Kerry which was quite beautiful but long. Bus rides on curving coasts has a tendency to put Randy to sleep but I managed. At the apex of the peninsula upon which the ring road is constructed were very nice views and wind as in 40 MPH sustained winds. I observed two stalwart road cyclists ride by as we lunched. An hour later, at a stop in a small village, I saw them land and start packing their bikes. I praised them and they let me take their picture for inspiration—my STP days are behind me.
Our second day found us looking at green fields, sheep, castles, and finally, the Cliffs of Moher. Geology was explained: like the Grand Canyon, layering reflecting millions of years was there for all to see and with study, it was clear that plate tectonics had moved these 150 meter cliffs from south of the equator where there are sister formations. Tourists caught my eye. We had no rain but the sun came and went and the wind along the cliffs was hard and yet, one saw all manners of dress from Zories with shorts to parkas and gear appropriate for a polar expedition. And if you wanted a picture—it took work to get the tourists out of the frame.
A long train ride from Galway got us back to Dublin but Norman warned us: it is a milk run, taking an hour longer than usual, and will have no services so bring some food. Oh, and the bathrooms were not working. We arrived at 11PM and braved windy dark and empty streets to find a taxi. This sort of problem disappeared the next day when we left the B and B and checked in to the Gresham hotel. We were now in the land of, “yes.”
Places I recommend in Dublin other than simply sight-seeing:
Trinity College—we saw a graduating medical school class and again, I was fascinated by skin color at a medical school in Ireland—all shades and dressed to the nines.
The National Archeological Museum: tools and clothing found in bogs that pre dated modern history. Jewelry, mostly gold collars and pins, as well as viking and middle ages weapons and clothing.
Buy the most expensive beer you ever will drink; take in the Guinness experience: 24 euros a head.
The Emigrant museum. Very well presented history and culture all of which finds one somber when leaving.
We took a train to Belfast for our last leg. We met Peter, our Railroad tour guide. Like Stormin' Norman, he was a retiree; Peter is not healthy. Slow speech though with a delightful accent, overweight, a stoop, and a poorly functioning left knee. We were his only customers so we chatted a bit to Belfast and he walked us, slowly, to a hotel in the downtown and then let us know he was going back to Dublin and would return the next day to pick us up — and that he was bringing his wife to go shopping.
Downtown Belfast is impressive and modern and like Dublin, full of young energetic people. We did the hop on and hop off bus with two stops that we liked: we spent a few hours at the Titanic Museum which moves you through floors like a Disney experience—experiencing the site with views as if constructing that ship. And then, a few stops beyond, a community roofed open market that was delightful for both people watching and looking at a wide variety of wares.
The hop on and hop off bus took us through the “republican” neighborhoods and identified sites bombed during the troubles. Polarization remains as Palestinian flags decorate the republican neighborhoods and the Union Jack with the Israeli flag on the British side. There was mural art everywhere mostly celebrating martyrs and a wish to be free. A British citizen who left in the 70’s, when he was 5, came back after an army career and near retirement. He was astonished at a fellow tourist wearing a green “Ireland” cap and shopping in a Belfast neighborhood. He worried that violence could ensue and then added that things are much better now……..
We had a dinner reservation based on a recommendation of a friend: “Mourne Seafood Bar.” My google maps showed it to be just a few blocks from our hotel so we hoofed it and found, like in many cities (been to Washington DC anyone?) within a few blocks, the vibe and buildings took on an altogether different feel. Kernie’s spidey sense was tingling as we walked through debris, and then across the street from a homeless support center, damaged people aimless and not physically threatening, but unnerving, always through glass debris and around a corner to the alley that had not showed on google and into a square of sorts where I spied the restaurant—-next door to an open bar with BIG biker equivalents and their women singing loudly and drinking— a lot. The restaurant had good insulation as once inside we heard none of all that. The waitresses were attentive, polite, yet, “hard.” As Kernie would say, “ridden hard and put away wet.” It was here we had the best meal of the trip (fried monkfish for me and lobster for the Kern) with a good Spanish wine to accompany. The walk home felt safer though our age and culture found us shaking our heads at what young people out for a nice night were wearing. Robert Crumb’s models were everywhere…..
The focus of our last touring day was the Giant’s Causeway; we drove the east coast of Northern Ireland to get there and it took forever. I had the company of a Spanish professor of American Literature to entertain myself which was nice as was the passing scenery and stops. Where we didn’t stop were a number of sites where Game of Thrones was filmed—-so not exactly a tour of that as one could not see those sites specifically, like the caves where the “dark child” was born. At one stop “we” ie the bus full of passengers sought out a tree covered path that had been a scene in GOT. No one found it but me as it was hiding in plain site—-a driveway for a small cafe.
The Giant’s Causeway is one more UNESCO site I can check the box on—and I am glad I have seen it—-but the experience was diluted by the sea of people covering what logically one would like to photograph….
We influenced the bus driver to get us back to Belfast in time for the 6:00 train-stops for photos were abbreviated and he took the freeway back. I texted Peter to let him know we would be on the 6:00 train and yet, he was not there. We boarded, guessing the car to be used and just before leaving, he showed with his wife in tow. He mumbled a bit, ordered a beer for himself and a wine for the missus, and we shared our table with some fellow tourists who would have waited in the station for him to show.
The doctor in me wanted to influence Peter. He seemed disabled by his knee and had mentioned potential fixes he had refused over the years. “Peter, I am meeting you for the first time and can say, your knee is handicapping you. You have slowly made your adjustments to it and with that, you are becoming less and less healthy. You should really seriously bite the bullet and consider getting the knee replaced.”
He shook his head, smiled, and walked on. Slowly…….
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