Bunratty

[Excuse the delay in the Ireland postings.  I had was knocked down by a bout of vertigo, not uncommon, I guess, but who knew?  I know better now and am getting back on my feet, though slowly.]

It was a lovely drive from Killarney to Bunratty, nice wide roads, not too many roundabouts.  Our fair weather held for the rest of our visit.  A lot of Kerry is semi tropical because of the Gulf Stream. Palms, rhododendrons, azaleas and other tropical plants brought by English Victorians "trying to turn Ireland into England", as my sister said. These plants flourish because of the mild wet climate and some are considered invasive today.

Bunratty (meaning "mouth of the Ratty" river) is a picturesque town in County Clare and is known for it's castle built in 1452.  The castle is thought to stand on the site of a Viking town (c.977 A.D.) and an earlier fortress, about 1250 A.D.  It was sacked and rebuilt a number of times until 1558, and the essential structure from that time remains.  It was handed down, sold and eventually used as a barracks until the roof of the main hall collapsed due to disrepair in the late 1900s.  In 1956, the castle was purchased and restored by the new owner, a Viscount, with assistance from the Office of Public Works. He re-roofed the castle and saved it from ruin.  The castle was opened to the public in 1960, sporting furniture, tapestries and works of art dating to around 1600.  We really enjoyed climbing down to the dungeon, up to the towers, through the family rooms, etc.  We were cheered to find these two fierce ladies in the collection.  This image also shows our hotel (The Bunratty Castle Hotel, what else?).

Here are a few more images from the castle:  The Bunratty River from one of the towers, a wonderful lion dining table and an arrow slit used for defense inside the thick walls.  You can see these from the outside of the castle, but inside one would have to sit crunched up in the opening to shoot out.

After the castle we visited the adjoining 19th century Irish village which was equally fascinating.  The houses and out buildings have been moved from all over to make up the Bunratty Folk Park.
 

The houses, barns, farm yards, church and shops are representative of Irish life in the 1800s.  We loved looking inside, where they were making traditional soda bread on a griddle, looking at all the homely* items in kitchens and family rooms.  Look at the upstairs bedrooms reached by ladders. Notice the big pile of peat in a corner basket for the fires inside.  Now that is an amazing fuel. 

* Yes, I meant to write 'homely', not 'homey'.  I loved that phrase in The Hobbit, The Last Homely House or Rivendell, Elrond's house.
It's the second meaning in the dictionary: 
2 Brit. (of a place or surroundings) simple but cozy and comfortable, as in one's own home: a modern hotel with a homely atmosphere.
• unsophisticated and unpretentious: homely pleasures.

 
The lovely old caravans in the folk park were a treat for me.  They brought back a couple of great memories, the first being The Famous Five book series I read so avidly as a preteen in London.  Author Enid Blyton's Five, four cousins and a dog,  and especially Georgina "George" (a total tomboy) were my heroes and their adventures, some involving gypsies and caravans were spellbinding.  I am not sure how the postwar Five would hold up with kids today with no cell phones, being allowed to go on holiday by themselves, etc., but that was certainly the life I wanted in 1958!

Irish Travellers or in Irish an Lucht Siúil, meaning literally "the walking people" have a complicated history, mostly as marginalized and despised outsiders, though they were known in Ireland as far back as the 13th century.  One of my all time favorite movies is Into The West with Gabriel Byrne and Ellen Barkin about a Traveller family.  Suitable for kids over age 10, I think.  Try it!

Our last treat in Bunratty was a wonderful dinner at the Folk Park:  lamb stew for Barbara and salmon for me.  The potatoes were spectacular, as they usually are here.  The show was included, a little on the touristy side, but fun nonetheless.  Music, singing and dancing.

"The Wild Atlantic Way"

The view above is Ballinskellig Bay, County Kerry.

Fish for breakfast!  I call that really civilized.  Yes, many of you know that my idea of fun when traveling is to eat as many piles of bacon as humanly possible.  For those of you who don't know me that well, be assured we do not buy or cook bacon at home.  It's a travel perk.  But, really, with the the esoteric choices available, I only had bacon two or three, maybe four times.  The gorgeous hake in this photo was very lightly breaded, fresh and delicious.  I have enthused about the breakfasts in our hotels in Ireland in an earlier post and the International Hotel was right up there with the best for variety and excellence.  These great breakfasts have meant we don't really need to eat again until dinner.  Very handy, what with bus tours, etc.  Not only that, they are free with the room.

We decided to see the Ring of Kerry, a 180 km drive around the southwesternmost (is that one word?) part of Ireland.  We learned that all buses travel in a counter clockwise direction on this tour to be sure they don't encounter each other on the tiny winding roads!  14 of the 16 highest peaks in Ireland are within the Ring and we met with various types of weather along the way.  I wish I had photos of the road heading up the mountains - it is hair-raising but hard to portray from inside the bus.  Here's our driver and guide Michael of Deros Tours, the picture of Irish charm.

One of our first sights was the town of Killorglin (kill means 'churchyard' or 'woodland', by the way) home of King Puck.  The Puck Fair, called Ireland's oldest celebration and one of the only remaining pagan festivals in Europe takes place there in August. The chosen goat is king for three days, people are his subjects.  No goats to be seen there, but later on at Casey's Cove we encountered Seamus and his goat Puck (what else?).  This tiny seaside village was where Charlie Chaplin spent his holidays later in his life.

Here's the sea at Casey's Cove - you can see the day was glowering at this point.  One of my favorite types of view, in fact.  Maybe that's why I like Scotland so much.  The wind was whipping!

Here is a sight we missed because of the persistent fog on that part of our drive.  Skellig Michael (not my photos, alas) sits in the Atlantic off  Iveragh Peninsula.  The claim is it was founded by Saint Fionán in the 6th century.  The monastery he is said to have built was continually inhabited until the 12th century.  The remains and the island were named a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1996.

Up, up we climbed into the wilds, wind and fog.  While we held our breath at every hairpin turn, Michael regaled us with historical tidbits.  I think I said in an earlier post that Kerry was the last part of Ireland to be conquered by Oliver Cromwell's troops in the invasion of 1649.  After the Irish rebelled in 1841, the only outpost left in English hands was Dublin.  This is all tied up with the Protestant-Catholic monarchical civil wars in England.  Oliver Cromwell seized power with the backing of Parliament and after the Irish joined forces loyal to Charles II, exiled king of England, Cromwell began the reconquest of Ireland.  It was a brutal assault whose many atrocities scarred relations between England and Ireland for centuries.  One of the most horrific was the siege of Drogheda, but the whole affair unleashed slaughter, famine and plague on the population.  If you are a history nerd like me, start here.  I love Wikipedia as a quick, accessible starting point, but I always suggest further reading if a subject interests you.

The "Men of the West" held out for nearly three years, living and fighting in the Kerry mountains.  I was struck by how harsh and barren so much of the landscape is.  Craggy and dramatic, yes, but how did they live?  You can't eat scenery, after all.  I have never seen so many rocks in my life.

I know, I know.  Pioneers and refugees through the ages have suffered the hardships of fleeing or being forced on to inhospitable lands.  But the Irish who have lived on this small island for 6,000 years and formed a culture that is celebrated around the globe, seem like a unique case to me.  Until late in the 20th century Ireland was the poorest country in western Europe.  Battered by invaders from the very beginning and never left in peace until the end of The Troubles in the 1990s.

I like to blame religion.  Christians arrived in the 5th century and coexisted with the Celts for about 600 years.  The Catholic Church took strong root in Ireland and may be the most dominant cause of the unique Irish national psyche.  There are countless examples of priests battling invaders alongside the warriors, starting with the Vikings and their influence and power over the populace was unquestioned for fourteen hundred years.  While religion was undoubtedly a balm to the misery and degradation of the people during endless strife, the power of the Church kept many illiterate and backward far longer than in other parts of the western world.  While most Irish identify as Catholic, the recent church scandals and emerging social liberality we see today have led to a new and vibrant sense of nationality in Ireland.  Erin Go Bragh! (Ireland Forever!)

Here is the Daniel O'Connell Memorial Church in Cahersiveen, the only Catholic Church in Ireland dedicated to a lay person.  Daniel O'Connell is best remembered for working tirelessly and peacefully to bring about Catholic emancipation in Ireland.  (The English were in charge at that time, remember, and the Protestants subjugated the Catholics as much as possible).  He fought for the rights of Irish Catholics to be represented in Parliament at London. He also tried to repeal the Act of Union, which combined Great Britain and Ireland. 

 
I picked up a St. Bridget cross on the trip after admiring the one our driver Michael had on his windshield.  They are made of reeds by locals and for sale at various crossroads along the route.  It is now guarding our atheist household from fires.

I was raised as a Unitarian and am a rank unbeliever.  But for some reason religion is one of my pet interests and I could go on endlessly, but I won't.  Basta por hoy, as they say in Spain.

Let's go back to Queen Victoria.

In an earlier post I mentioned her visit to Killarney which bankrupted a local landowner who wanted to impress her with his estate.  Our next stop was to a scenic overlook called The Ladies View.  It's a pretty long drive by horse-drawn coach from Killarney and, it seems, Victoria and her ladies were only mildly impressed.  My sister and I thought that was pretty funny, but we did admire the view (below).  We asked Michael our tour guide what the ladies were wearing.  He thought for a moment then said, "Black".  We did laugh, but we are easily amused, after all.

After the tour we ate dinner at The Flesk, opened by an American and very popular.  He was a Legionnaire and Americans visiting have sent the regalia of their American Legion posts back to Killarney for display, covering the walls of the restaurant.

I had salmon (white, not pink, but delicious) with Hollandaise, salad and 'mushy peas' with, yes, big fat Irish french fries; Barbara had lamb chops, mashed potatoes, mushrooms and onion rings.  She said the potatoes in Ireland were the best she's ever had.  Not the fries, though, too fat!



 
Back to the Grand for more music and fun.  No dancing in this video, but a great tune.  Feel free to skip the music in this blog, if it is not your cup of tea.  My sister is not as big a fan as I am, so we compromised a number of times.

Next up:  Bunratty!

Ciarrai

Killarney is famous for its beautiful lakes, near the Kerry mountains and dramatic sea coast.  We had only two gloomy days on our whole trip, but decided to set off in the morning on a hop-on-hop-off bus to see some of the sights.  You'll notice we are not going in the car.  While it was convenient, if hair-raising, in getting from one city to another, I did not feel up to the task of sight-seeing in it.  I am sure I would not have seen any sights!  Plus, there is nothing like a tour bus guide for fun facts.  This ride, on the top of a open tour bus, was the only time I really needed my windbreaker on the trip.

Kerry gets its name from Ciarrai (the people of Ciar), a leader of the of the pre-Gaelic tribe who settled in the area. We were told that Ciar was the son of Pictish Queen Maeve who may be more legend than fact.  In any case, Kerry was settled c. 4000 BC, by people thought to have sailed up the Atlantic coast from what is now Spain.  Many became miners and the earliest copper mines were worked up to 1840s.  It was also the last part of Ireland to fall to the English in the invasion by Oliver Cromwell in the 1640s.  More about Kerry's rocky terrain and general discomfort for the English a bit later.

After careening around the streets of Killarney, we arrived at Ross Castle which sits on the edge of Killarney's lower lake and was built by O'Donoghue Mór in the 15th century.  Legend has it that O'Donoghue still exists in a deep slumber under the waters of Lough Leane.  On the first morning of May every seven years he rises from the lake on his magnificent white horse and circles the lake.  Anyone catching a glimpse of him is said to be assured of good fortune for the rest of their lives.  Ross Castle was the last stronghold in Munster to hold out against Cromwell.  It was eventually taken in 1652.  (The five kingdoms of Ireland, later called provinces: Munster, Ulster Connaught, Leinster and Meath.  Meath was later dissolved with parts going to Leinster and Ulster.)

 

Our next stop was Torc Waterfall below Torc Mountain.  We had a nice short hike up to the falls, but I was most struck by the virtual rain forest on the way up.  The moss clinging to the trees and stones was a surreal brilliant green because of the spray from the falls.

We drove on to Muckross House and its beautiful gardens.  We visited in early April, so it was not in full bloom, but was still an imposing and enviable estate.  Built in 1843 by Henry Arthur Herbert the house was lost to him due to debts after embellishments he ordered in advance of a visit by Queen Victoria in 1861.  He pined the rest of his life, but was so detested by the locals for his mistreatment during and after his heyday, they got revenge when he was buried.

According to our bus drivers, he had asked for permission to be buried on the Muckross property.  This was granted and he was to be buried upright facing Muckross House so he could gaze upon it for all eternity.  After the funeral service, when the family and guests had repaired to a local hostelry for refreshments, men paid to cover Henry with sod lifted the coffin from the newly dug grave and replaced it upside down and backward "so his arse faces Muckross for all eternity ".

In 1932 Muckross was presented by to the Irish nation.  It thus became the first National Park in the Republic of Ireland and formed the basis of the present day Killarney National Park.

We returned to town in time to have tea (and Jameson's) with Eamon Flynn, an old friend of my son Anthony and renowned Irish musician.  Eamon lived in the U. S. for 30 years, traveling to traditional music gigs and festivals, recording and teaching.  He was a regular at the sessions at The Ice House in Burlington when Irish music took hold of Anthony at age 13.  Having no instrument, Anthony made a bodhran out of a piece of 16x20 cardboard and a stick and went to the sessions regularly to play, watch and learn.  

Well, he finally saved up enough to buy a bodhran, then learned the penny whistle and finally built a set of Uilleann pipes.  (See an earlier post)  He was dedicated and now plays all around New England.  But Eamon remembered that "He was always there.  Whenever I turned around, there he was."

Eamon moved back to his home town of Mountcollins near Killarney and is making music regularly and teaching all over the place.  We had a lovely chat.  He's a real gentleman.

Killarney Is Grand!

And grand it is indeed, to be sure!  I refer to the whole shebang, but let's start with the hotel.  I have said before that we have had spectacular hotels on this trip and one reason is that, with one exception, they are located right on the street in the middle of the action.  Parking  would be my only complaint, if I were to complain, which I will not.  Older Irish hotels have to catch as catch can for parking spaces and some were a bit of a hike.  But since we are here to rack up miles on the pedometer, I'll say no more.

The Killarney International is a lovely place with old world charm, a pub, two dining rooms (one for breakfast, one for dinner), a cafe, billiards room, library and comfortable lobby.  Our room was small but very clean, cosy and had a great view of the street and mountains in the distance.  A formidable raven perched on our railing on the second day.

We had dinner at the hotel, first a spring roll with an Asian slaw, then and we both ordered a seafood pancake: mussels, haddock, salmon, etc. glazed with Hollandaise. Sides of wonderful brown bread, potatoes, vegetables and sautéed mushroom and onions.  The crepe was as big as the dinner plate and for the first time we had more than we could actually finish.  It's not a reflection on the rest of our meals which were always generous, but this was gargantuan.  And delicious!  Alas, dessert was out of the question.

We decided to find some traditional music and wandered over to Sheehan's Pub at the Killarney Grand.  The pub was packed and a friendly couple Padriac and Mary Kissane invited us to sit with them close to the band.  We were joined by their friends Michael and Margaret Moynihan and we chatted over the din and had a foot-stomping good time.

I'd like to put all the music here, but am going to try just this video.  It turns out Michael was an All Ireland Dance champion in his day and here's a version of The Brush Dance.  Please excuse the dim lighting and patrons coming in and out.

 Hen Parties! 

Well, hen parties, the Irish version of bachelorette parties are big business in Killarney.  The Grand was really hopping on Saturday night, not only with trad music and dancing, but also streams of young and not-so-young ladies in fancy dress  who were celebrating somebody's wedding.  We saw at least six parties come through in feather boas, tutus, beauty pageant sashes, silly hats, beads, bridal party tee shirts, etc.  Some were dancing to the fiddles as they paraded by us in varying states of inebriation, heading into the back reaches of the pub where a rock band was playing.  We didn't follow them, but are pretty sure they had a good time.  These are not my photos - too dark and hectic for my iPhone!

Toy Soldiers & Shamroguery!

I must say at this point that when traveling you need to be very careful about who you pick to venture out with you.  The thought of a plane ride and foreign accents with Ed gives me (and him) the heebie-jeebies.  My sister's husband Peter was similar to Ed regarding travels.  If he could drive out to Arizona and hike and camp, fine.  Otherwise he wanted to stay home with the cats and do yard work.

So Barbara and I left them home and traveled to Australia, Spain, Costa Rica, Nova Scotia and now The Auld Sod.  We were not all that alike as kids.  For one thing my sister was a girly girl who loved dolls and combing people's hair, while I was a tomboy and had three dolls that I can remember ~ Davy Crockett, Rob Roy and Henry the Eighth (to go with a set of his wives that my sister had).

Most of the photos of us as young kids were in dresses ~ my grandmother always sent dresses and we had to wear them, but Barbara pretty much always looked like that.  We had free rein when we were not in school or on car trips with our parents, like a lot of kids in the 1950s.  They sent us outside and called us in for lunch and supper.  Still, she played with dolls and I climbed trees.  We got more compatible as teenagers when we both got to escape our real lives and invent new ones by attending Unitarian church camps and conferences.  They were a big deal when we were in high school and an escape from what we (or I, at least) thought were our boring existence.  We headed out in our own directions after high school, lived thousands of miles away from each other for a long time, then really reconnected after I moved from Phoenix back to Vermont.  Since then I think we have been each other's best friends.  So when we travel we can happily make way for each other's preferences.  I like Irish music more than she does, so we didn't overdo that, for example.  We can take a nap now and then without one of us feeling like we are squandering or vacation.  It's great.

We both love to read and Barbara found this wonderful op-ed piece in the Irish Examiner.  It was a serious piece about cheapening celebrations of the anniversary of the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916 which is approaching, but the language of the writer just floored us - and they gave him half a page!  Here's a short excerpt:

"Road to the Rising Tramples on Our History"

"The event which enveloped O'Connell Street on Easter Monday was a crass tribute to the realities of Dublin and Ireland in 1916 when poverty and war was everywhere.  What a sort of Donnybrook Fair of undignified shamroguery will have been unleashed by the centenary?  A tatty shambles of fake craic and jollity.  It was remorselessly crass and gobeen-like.  The sort of thing that in the days when we might have had some claim to a bit if dignity concerning our national holidays, would have made us sneer at US organisations such as the Loyal Sons of St. Patrick and the Ancient Order of Hibernians, a piece of fake pageantry that would have fitted happily into a reel of The Quiet Man...cue a mess of dressing-up box tat, mainly grubby ankle-length skirts, somewhat battered hats last seen at the cousins' wedding six years ago, and badly applied fake moustaches."  Emer O'Kelly   Irish Examiner, April 10, 2015

I hated The Quiet Man, too.  John Wayne bashing Maureen O'Hara, and terrible acting.  Ugh!

So, back on the road.  We left Cork for Killarney in County Kerry, by far the most pleasant drive so far, slightly wider roads, fewer roundabouts, less white knuckling on my part.  My only complaint was the lack of places to pull over to photograph the striking mountain views.

We saw a sign and decided to stop at a Toy Soldier factory.  Now, let me say, we both love toys and when we were kids in London one of our favorite trips was to Hamley's Toy Store where my mother bravely took all five of us shopping.  Don't be fooled by all the plastic Disney junk if you follow the Hamley's link.  It really was magical in the 1950s.  Hamley's vied with Madame Tussauds Chamber of Horrors as our favorite outing at the time.  You may not know that a large number of Madame Marie Tussaud's prominent figures were modeled from death masks made after they had been guillotined during the French Revolution.  The Chamber of Horrors showed all kinds of medieval torture and gore ~ we loved it!

Anyway we stopped for better directions in the market town of Macroom where Barbara said she thought she could live happily ever after.  Everything was right there on the high street:  butcher, fishmonger, stationer, green grocer, clothier, etc.  It was very charming but a long way off!  We finally pulled in to the Prince August Toy Soldier Factory where they make hand painted pewter soldiers and are building an additional room to hold their upcoming Battle of Waterloo exhibit.  Wow!  I so wished my grandchildren were with us.  They allowed kids to pour molten pewter into molds, then cool and paint the figures.  You couldn't have dragged me out of there when I was 10.

 
I am an amateur scenic photographer, to tell the truth, people are my specialty.  I don't take my work camera with me on trips, but have the trusty Canon G10 which does a pretty nice job.  I do love great faces, though and found many in Ireland.  I photographed a few and here's the first.  We found Willie Burke and his dog Bracken outside the toy factory and he is certainly a natural.  Thank you, Willie!

We're in Killarney for 3 nights. Whoo hoo!  We've had the nicest hotels, all clean, quiet and charming.  We had tea and whiskey in the bar of the International Hotel.  Cosy and relaxing, we sat with the beautiful Irish Wolfhound by the fire.  Everyone should be so lucky!

Next up: Killarney sights!

"We set sail from the cold quay of Cork..."

We arrived safely at the Imperial Hotel, Cork.  I must say our hotels were pretty grand.  Here's the lobby of The Imperial (not my photo).  After checking in we set off to wander a bit.  Cork (Corcaigh in Irish meaning "marsh") was reputedly founded as a monastic settlement by St. Finbarr on the River Lee.  Vikings arrived after 915 A.D., lived mostly in harmony with the monks and Cork became an important trading city during the Middle Ages, and later a primary place of embarkation for Irish emigrants to America.  It was an English stronghold for many years, but strongly supported Irish Home Rule afrom the 19th century on.  It is a city of canals and bridges with a lively night life and music scene.

We had a wonderful pub lunch at The Oliver Plunkett (we've so far found no shortage of great eateries).  Barbara ordered  a seafood chowder and potted brawn - "a jellied loaf made from pig's head slow cooked with chili, garlic, ginger and coriander- meat removed and left to set."  With pickles and toast.  She's the epicure in our family and claimed both were delicious.  Plus the usual, Jameson's, Guinness and cider with bangers and mash for me.

The next day we decided to take a bus trip to Kinsale, a town that sounded interesting.  No, that's not a giant beetle, but Buseireann, the ubiquitous Irish buses everyone uses to get around cheaply, quickly and on time.  It was crowded but comfortable and we passed a lot of farms and fields on the way to the seacoast.

 

Kinsale is a charming town granted a charter in 1333.  We shopped and strolled (favorite pastimes) and Barbara bought chocolates to take home from the Kinsale Chocolate Boutique.  No, we did not devour them on the trip, honest!  It was fun to see all the local color including these plums on the sidewalk for sale and the palm trees, courtesy of the mild temperatures in the British Isles provided by the Gulf Stream.

Here are just a few of the narrow market streets and shops.



The harbor is of historic significance and home to Fort James and Fort Charles.  Chains were strung underwater  between these two forts to scuttle French and Spanish ships during the upheavals surrounding the wars to install Protestant or Catholic kings on the English throne.  In the end Protestant Prince William of Orange, "King Billy" defeated the Catholic King James II who fled to France from Kinsale in 1690.  More reason, besides "the yoke of tyranny" for the Catholic Irish to seethe and foment rebellion.  Can you blame them?

 

Here's a fun song from the Clancy Brothers that  tells the story of Irish frustration in a lighthearted way.  

Back to Cork for some music in a pub.  Sorry, too dark for good photos.  Next up ~ County Kerry!