We were definitely bummed. The Aran Islands, a set of three small islands outside of Galway Bay, are a highlight for many tourists. We'd looked forward to exploring the islands on bike, or by jaunting cart.
The upside was that we got to spend more time at the castle, exploring the grounds. After the fanciest breakfast ever (linen napkins and fine china! Scones and clotted cream! A formally-dressed waiter serving tea and coffee in our own personal silver pots), we hit the walking trails.
All around us, fishermen were gearing up for the day. The fishing pole rack was empty as we passed by on our way to breakfast, and fisherman were all over the castle grounds. They wore high boots, waders and slickers, and were carefully mounting poles onto their cars.
The poles were so long, it took a special mount on the outside of the car to transport them!
Amber and I wandered the gorgeous castle grounds, posing for photos by the river in the rain. We sloshed along the muddy river path, into a thick, beautiful forest. It was so quiet, silent except for the gentle rain falling around us (and our giddy laughter).
Then, too soon, it was time to start our day. I wasn't exactly sure of our alternate itinerary, but Bébhinn had a full day planned for us.
Our first stop was a hawthorn tree by a river. Bébhinn reminded us how superstitious the Irish are when it comes to fairies, and said the hawthorns are known as the fairy trees. Irish people never cut down a hawthorn tree, and even diverted an entire freeway once so as not to disturb a hawthorn tree and fairy fort. (The local city councilman said that if the fairies were disturbed, many people would die on the ensuing freeway.)
Bébhinn told us how people made wishes to the fairies via the hawthorn tree. They tie rags to the branches, and when the rags fall off, the fairies grant the wishes. It was pretty cool to see the adorned tree out there in the middle of nowhere.
We drove on, until Bébhinn stopped along a rocky path. She was reading her map, but we saw that road as an opportunity.
"Off road! Off road!" the entire group started chanting. We had a Land Rover, and we wanted to use it!
Bébhinn hopped out of the car, telling us to stay put. We thought she was blowing us off, but she was really unhooking the luggage trailer. She climbed back in, turned the Vagatron toward the stones, and off we went, screaming with delight!
It was bumpy, and fun. This was definitely NOT gonna be your average bus tour!
Bébhinn eventually turned us back around, and stopped 100 yards short of the main road. All around us were stacks of mud bricks, which Bébhinn explained were peat, used for fuel. The peat is made mostly of water and layers of grass and plants, and takes 2,000 years to compress a layer an inch thick.
"Leave it to the Irish to create a heat source out of water!" Bébhinn laughed.
The local people are assigned a part of the swampy bog to carve out hunks of peat, which they then cut up into bricks, and stacked to dry. It takes the entire summer to dry out the bricks, and really, it's the wind that dries them, not the sun. (We drove through some towns where people were burning the peat, and it smelled God-awful! It also has the added benefit of being dangerous to your health, as it contains high levels of carbon.)
Bébhinn showed us how the farmers sliced through the bog, and passed around a peat brick. She also showed us how surprisingly springy the bog was by jumping up and down on it.
"Come on, guys, who wants to do a little bog jumping?" she called out, and we all responded by running onto the bog.
It really was bouncy! Bébhinn warned us to watch our step, so as not to fall into the water below. She said it was nearly impossible to climb out of that!
We climbed back into the Vagatron, happy and giddy. A giant tour bus passed by, and the tourists inside stared at us and our Land Rover. We waved at them, laughing that we were having way more fun on our adventure.
It was on the road again, on down to a little artist's village in Spiddal.
It was so cute, with colorful little buildings, and food vendors selling lovely baked goods and hot coffee.
I wandered through the stores a bit, but what really caught my eye were the surfers in the ocean just across the street. It was a little chilly out, and I figured it must be even colder out there in the waves! (Turns out Bébhinn is a surfer, and she said it's not the surfing part that's cold, it's the coming out of the water at the end of surfing that's brutal!)
Then it was back in the car for some more driving, this time through Galway city, and around Galway Bay, finally stopping to see Dunguaire Castle, then for lunch in Kinvara.
Next up was a fairy fort. Bébhinn said most Irish people wouldn't set foot in a fairy fort, for fear of offending the fairies. She reminded us to be respectful, and to tell the fairies we meant them no harm. I'm not gonna lie, the fairies were starting to freak me out a little. These were not the cute little fairies (like Tinkerbell) that I always envisioned!
As I climbed over the staircase into the fort, I did as Bébhinn said, silently telling the fairies that I meant them no harm. I must've repeated that about a million times.
The fairy fort was really just a small circular clearing bordered by a dirt wall about six feet tall. We walked up the wall, and across it. Or, in Ashley's case, danced across it like a fairy.
There was a stump of a hawthorn tree in the middle of the clearing, with rags tied to it. I wanted a closer look, so I took the first path down into the little valley.
Or rather, the path took me! I tripped a little on a root, lost my balance, and tried quickly to correct it. The result was me flying down the path out of control, at breakneck speed, and almost landing on my face.
My first thought was "Oh my God, the fairies pushed me down the hill!!!" Seriously, I even turned around, half expecting to see the snickering sprite who did it.
My second thought (directed at the fairies) was "I mean you no harm." That was also my third, fourth and fifth thought, and I repeated it the whole time we were in the fort. I honestly meant the fairies no harm, and yet, they tried to kill me within five minutes of stepping into their fort!
The other odd thing about the fairy fort was the weather. It was calm and still when we got there, so much so that I left my jacket in the car. But 10 minutes into our visit, the wind started up, and it was awful. Icy hurricane-force gales blew us all around, whipping our hair and jackets around, and raising goosebumps on our skin. It was freezing cold, and the wind was LOUD, ringing through our ears, forcing us to yell to each other.
Eventually the wind won. We were chilled to the bone, and couldn't take it anymore, so we gathered up the group and climbed back out of the fort. And then the weirdest thing happened--the wind stopped. Completely. As if it never existed.
We stood next to the Land Rover, and Mary said, "Hey, the wind is gone. What happened?"
We'd crossed 10 feet to the car, and standing in the hot sun, the air was still as could be. We all looked around at each other, eyes wide, and quickly climbed into our Vagatron.
"I'm surprised you went into the fort," I said to Bébhinn, as we drove away. "I thought you said Irish people wouldn't go in them." I knew from the magpies how superstitious Bébhinn is.
"I have a mantra I always say before I go in," Bébhinn answered. "For protection."
I recalled my near-spill and the cold, biting winds, and thought maybe Bébhinn could have shared her mantra with us all!
We headed toward the hills, to the Burren region and Poulnabrone Dolmen, a megalithic stone tomb. We drove through fields of sheep and cows up into the Burren, and Bébhinn told us that the cows here grew huge because of the rich limestone under the grass. The limestone was also visible above ground, creating a weird, lunar-like landscape. (Well, that's what the guide books all say--it just looked like really rocky land to me!)
Everybody hopped out and ran off to see the tomb, a giant rock slab stacked atop other rocks. We took a lot of pictures, admired the landscape and the fields of sheep in the distance, and then climbed back aboard the Vagatron.
Our next stop was supposed to be the Cliffs of Moher--Bébhinn really wanted to get us out on a walk after a full day of driving. However, she kept checking the weather, and was very concerned about the winds--the same wind that stopped us from visiting the Aran Islands. She was afraid it would be too dangerous to walk the Cliffs, and when we pulled into Doolin, I could see why.
Doolin is across the bay from the Cliffs, and boy, was that bay churning! I was actually grateful the captains had cancelled our trip, because it took just one look at those waves to know I'd have spent the entire ferry ride vomiting. (I get seasick just standing on the pier--I am NOT a good sailor!)
We tried to walk across the parking lot to get a better look at the Cliffs. The wind pushed us violently, and it took great effort to even walk across the lot.
From Doolin, we could see the giant waves smacking against the Cliffs, some so high they sent a sea spray blast ABOVE the Cliffs! (Which was quite a feat, because the Cliffs of Moher are 700 feet high!)
We stood on the rocks taking photos as the waves crashed next to us, and the wind tried to send us flying. Just standing there felt like we were really fighting the elements!
Bébhinn gathered us up and came up with the best idea of the day--a visit to the pub! She was met with a great cheer from the group, but she sternly warned us we only had time for one drink. We agreed we would be fast.
And here is when Bébhinn first realized we are a fun group, but not necessarily a group that listens well. This became a running theme for the rest of the trip.
Bébhinn dropped us off at a pub, then went off to park the Vagatron. We ordered a round of drinks--tall pints of beers, some Irish coffees, a couple hard ciders. Now, remember, this is Ireland, so a pint really is a pint (16 ounces!). It's not a wimpy American "pint" (12 ounces).
So we sat sipping our drinks and socializing--I really liked our group, they were funny and interesting. And loud! And they only got louder with each sip. Bébhinn gave us as long as she could, then finished up her energy drink and ran off to get the Land Rover.
That lone drink hit us hard, and the tired group that entered the pub turned into a much more boisterous crowd leaving the pub. We stood outside laughing, and joking, and then someone asked, "Where's Linda?"
We did a quick head count, and sure enough, Linda was missing! I don't know how, she'd followed us outside, but now, sure enough, she was missing.
"She's back in the pub," Mary said. "I tried to get her out, but she didn't want to leave."
Margie nudged her husband Brian and said, "Go get your sister."
Brian finally emerged with Linda, who did not come willingly. And with good reason--the minute she stepped back into the pub, three Irish men chatted her up. She was loving it, and shared this hilarious exchange she had with them.
Irish man to Linda: Where are you from?
Linda: Chicago. But my family's originally from Ireland--do you know any Shinners?
Irish man: No, I heard they all moved to Chicago!
We couldn't stop laughing and teasing Linda. By the time Bébhinn returned with the Vagatron, she couldn't believe how loud we'd all become.
"Why, you've only had one drink then, haven't ya?" she said. "Glad we didn't stay long enough for two!"
Lucky for Bébhinn, it was only a short drive to our last stop of the day, Liscannor (Liss-CANN-or). It was barely even a town, just a street mainly, and a very small one, with only a few houses, a hotel and two pubs on it.
After a quick hotel check-in (and a demo for Linda on how to turn the room lights on!), the group met at the restaurant next door. We walked in to a packed house, which surprised me, since there weren't any cars parked outside, and it didn't even look like that many people lived in the whole town!
Dinner was fantastic--fresh seafood and cute little shots of curry soup that the chef sent out. Just like the night before, though, we were LOUD. I'm pretty sure Bébhinn would only book us in busy pubs for dinner after that night.
We walked over to the pub after dinner. The pub's front window was filled with corks, which Linda and I wanted our picture with. However, as Linda climbed up to the window, she overstepped a bit, smacking her head on the glass.
She laughed, unhurt, and I started cracking up, too. Still laughing as we walked into the pub, I pushed the door, which was lighter than it looked, and it went flying open with a crash. I walked in, missing the downward sloping step, and tripped a little, followed by an also-laughing Linda. That's right, the Loud Americans literally stumbled into the pub, which was filled with maybe 5 very quiet patrons, all of whom were now staring at us.
We said hello to the locals, grabbed a table and ordered up some drinks. Brian tossed some dice onto the table, and taught us a game I was terrible at (it involved math!). But we were having a good time in the nearly empty pub, playing dice and hanging out with our new best friends.
The rest of the Vagabonders joined us, and we pulled up another table. But then, 20 minutes later, a very polite Irish kid came in, carrying a keyboard he put our table. Apparently, we chose the one table in the whole pub that the band uses!
We were so excited to hear there'd be live music, we willingly gave up the table, pulling the short stools off to the side. More musicians came in--a man and a woman with guitars, a grizzled man with a banjo, a much younger guy with a fiddle, a middle-aged man singer, and an older woman with heavy eye makeup who looked like a church lady. She sat down at the keyboard, fluttered her eyelashes, and smiled a big fake smile at us. She scanned the room, taking in the scene and all its people, then smiled and fluttered her eyelashes again.
And then, I'm not sure how it happened, but I looked up and the entire pub was full! I swear, it was like somebody sounded the alarm, and the whole town came running. Every inch of the pub was full--all the tables, stools, bar space, and every part of the floor in between it all.
The band was amazing. They weren't your typical band so much as a group of individual performers who came together to jam. (We found out later was exactly the case.) They took turns--each person got a chance to sing, while the others backed them up musically.
The songs were sad, all of them, full of tough times, pain, and loneliness. They sang of family leaving, and family dying, and it broke my heart, all of it. The young man who brought in the keyboard stood and crooned a song about leaving for New York during the famine, and it was like a knife twisting into my heartstrings.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any sadder, the whole pub started singing along, and the collective voice almost made me cry. When they sang "Hard Times Come No More," you could feel the pain of those hard times in every voice. It was as sad as it was moving.
But never fear, it wasn't all sadness and heaviness. The Diva was our favorite. She played the keyboard dramatically, long fingers and flowing sleeves sweeping across the keys, fake smile plastered on her face. She scanned the room continually, and if you weren't paying attention, she shushed you! I'm serious. Right in the middle of the song, she fluttered her eyelashes, smiled and told us, "Shhhhhhh."
"Look at her," Amber whispered. "She knows everything going on in this pub right now, and exactly what everyone's doing!"
We weren't the only ones to get shushed. (And come on, who expects to be shushed IN A BAR???) But she was on it, even shushing her son, the keyboard carrier/crooner, and shaking her fist at him playfully when he added loud but appropriate laughter to a song. Diva even shushed her female band mate, who dared to ask her the next song!
The only time she didn't tell us to pipe down was when she piped up. That's right, she got to sing solo, too, but when it was her turn, she stood up so everyone could see her (all the other singers sat in their seats). Diva belted her songs out, still eyeing the crowd for noisy hooligans, and it was a sight to see for sure!
Meanwhile, Linda was seriously cracking me up again. She wanted to buy our group a round of drinks, so I went to help carry them. She ordered the drinks, but was surprised when it came time to pay.
"You take credit cards, right?" she asked the bartender of the world's tiniest small-town rural pub.
The barkeep shook her head and replied, "Cash only."
Linda reached into her purse. "OK, you take American dollars, then, huh?"
The barkeep shook her head again.
"What?" Linda asked, incredulous. "You only take Euros? I don't have any!"
I couldn't help giggling--she'd been in the country for THREE DAYS, how could she NOT have any money yet???
"You really don't take American dollars?" she asked again.
"It's not America, it's Ireland!" I said, pulling out my Euros. "Here, I've got it."
I started to hand over the money but Linda stopped me, intent on paying. "I'll give her American dollars, it's OK."
The barkeep just shook her head again.
"When was the last time you paid with Euros in Chicago?" I asked Linda, and she said, "Never!"
I looked at her like, "YEAH!" but she just stared back at me like "What?"
Finally, Linda accepted the money, but only after swearing it was only a loan, and that she would pay me back no matter what, and she could write me a check.
"It's OK, Linda, I know where you're staying for the next week!" I laughed. "I'm not worried!"
She even tried making me take a picture of her driver's license to use as collateral, which made me laugh even more. (She finally stopped when I told her I was gonna sell the license photo on EBay.)
While all the hilarious money drama was going on, a man started singing a Paul Simon song, and Linda lit up.
"Oooooh, I know this song!" she said, and singing along at the bar. We got all our drinks just as the song ended, and carried them carefully back to our group.
"You just missed Brian singing!" Amber whispered, and I laughed so loud the Diva shushed me. It was Linda's own BROTHER singing, but all she recognized was the song!
People watching in the pub was fantastic. There was a group of older women, maybe six or seven of them, all dressed up and sipping half-pints of beer like ladies. They sang along to all the songs, and really enjoyed themselves, except for one older woman with a very pinchy face, who was propped straight up in her seat, sleeping. She looked mad, even in her sleep, maybe because it was past her bedtime, but still, she slept on. (Turns out they were sisters on their annual girls' weekend--what fun!)
We stood when the music stopped, shocked to see it was already midnight! We had a big hiking day, and figured (like the pinchy-faced sister) it was time for bed.
But the moment we stood up, all the people surrounded us! One of the singers came to talk to us, and a swarm of fellow teachers Linda had befriended, began to talk, too. Amber talked to the sisters (she loved them!) and I had to tell the Keyboard Kid how great he and his mom were.
The singer stopped us again by the door.
"That was just our first set," he said. "We're playing another."
We were just so surprised--here we thought everyone was shushing us, and now they all wanted to talk to us! But they were just being respectful to the musicians, which I totally understand (and honestly, we were never THAT loud--the musicians were all sitting two feet in front of us!).
We almost stayed--neither Amber nor I likes to miss a party--but we'd had a full day, and we really did have to get up early (and Mary and I were burning up in front of the pub fireplace!). I was afraid if I stayed, I wouldn't leave till sunrise!
Brian and Linda stayed a bit longer, and actually got locked IN THE BAR! I guess the pub has to close at a certain time, so the barkeep just locks the door so no one else can come in. But anybody who's already inside can stay--which is what Brian and Linda did!
As tired as we were, it took Amber and I forever to fall asleep that night. We'd traveled a long way and saw sooooooooo many things, and topped it off with the best night ever in a real Irish pub, with real traditional Irish musicians.
It took so long to finally drift off, because really, what dreams could ever top a day like that??
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