What can be said about Ireland that hasn't been said a million times? It's beauty, charm, history, language, music, poetry. all come together into a wonderful experience that fills the soul.
Twenty one travelers, one bus with the most wonderful driver/guide, an excellent itinerary, beautiful weather and amazing scenery all combined to make a memorable McDonough family trip to the old sod.
We've been throwing around the idea of a family trip to Ireland for a least a few years and lo, it came to pass (I love the word lo!) We owe a lot to Chuck for whining about it for years, Patty Ann (that's what we call her) for being a perfect tour guide and to Dennis for being a tremendous sleuth chasing down the family history. The initial consanguineous group (don't be lazy - look it up) consisted of Ma and Pa's direct descendants, Chuck, Sheila, Bill, Nancy Jen, Chris, Jackie, Patty, Patty and Dennis add a side mix who came a few days later, still consanguineous, Maryanne, Kathy, Michael, Samantha, Stephen, Sean.
Cousins of cousins, Maureen and Kathy. Friends Kelsey, Joyce, a group of fabulous Floidians - the Golden Girls - Katie, Marian, Adrienne and Louise along with Ferrel, Nancy, Juan and Maggie all melded together to become a merry mixture of happy travelers.
Our Dublin guide gave her informative spiel to a busload of sleepy tourists most of whom had no memory of what she said. I think the gist was that Dublin is a wonderful town! The idea of getting off a plane and touring for a few hours before checking into a hotel makes perfect sense, it saves you a days hotel charge. It's important to get ahead of jet lag by not taking naps on that first day. So off we went on that busy Saturday morning to a whirlwind tour of the Book of Kells and the Guinness factory in zombie-like fashion. Finally, the amazing Dermot squeezed our mega bus into the tiny courtyard of the Clarage hotel and we happily settled into our comfy rooms. Heaven!
Turns out the Dublin guide was right! Dublin is a wonderful town. O'Connell streets and squares and pubs all over the place. Yes I know it was a McDonough tour, but I have a natural draw toward O'Connell locations, especially the pubs. On our first full day in Dublin's fair city we took a walk downtown and ran into the the statue of that famous fishmonger Molly Malone. From the back she looks like an old fashioned peasant, from the front she looks like Dolly Parton with a good bit of her assets on display. Funnily that part of the bronze statue was shining brightly. Looks like a number of good luck rubs were had.
Being Sunday we felt a Church visit was in order and we tried, we really did. Maureen and I popped into a Polish church to light a candle and then we all tried to get into the Cathedral but alas it was closed to the public because they were actually using it to praise God. Inconvenient for us, but God was probably pleased. Anyway, what to do? The Brazen Head, Dublin oldest alehouse you say? After all it was past noon already. So through the magic of Google Maps and a few wrong turns were in front of the Brazen Head, established in 1198, by golly. It was one of those wonderful old buildings with many rooms which the more savvy Dublin crowd had already filled, for the most part. We managed to worm our way into a spot in one of the lesser rooms and ordered 5 beautiful Guinness. We were becoming Guinness experts by this time, after all we did tour the factory the day before.There is something beautiful about a freshly poured Guinness and there is no more beautiful place to enjoy it then the old sod. Through more magic of that text thingy we added a few more travelers to our table, namely Bill and Dennis. Add Patty, Jen, Maureen, Kathy, me, Guinness and Dublin's fair city and you get a fairly silly afternoon. I'm not sure how we started skåling disasters, I think it was when Patty said here's to the 9/11 museum and Billy went off on a Billy tangent-here's to diphtheria, here's to malaria etc, etc. If you know Billy, you know what I'm talking about. And if you know Jen, you know how much we were laughing.
One of the rooms of the Brazen Head was a library. Maureen Chase had been there the year before and put a prayer card of Noreen, my niece and her cousin who passed away far too young. Liking that idea we added prayer cards of others from our families who have passed, Kevin, Pat and Jay. It's a good place, the Brazen Head.
Chuck, the patriarch (that means oldest -sounds better though) of our consanguineous group was prowling the streets by himself and lo and behold found himself at O'Connell's Bar down by O'Connell's statue in O'Connell square. What a coincidink! So the Brazen Head crowd joined the O'Connell Bar individual and carried on with our Dublin love.
In addition to all the O'Connell stuff we went to a typical Irish entertainment evening which included traditional singing and dancing. The landlord had a heavy hand with the traditional whiskey so everyone enjoyed the entertainment immensely.
After such a busy weekend in Dublin, no one really minded a day of driving to get us to the wonderful west coast. Dermot, the Amazing, squeezed our giant bus out of the tiny hotel courtyard and we were our way, gazing at the picturesque countryside, napping, listening to lovely Irish music, stopping every now and then for a Kodak moment,
One of those stops was at the Rock of Cashel, a huge castle ruin that looms up from the pastoral landscape of Tipperary and takes you by surprise. Dermot, the historian, gave us a run down of Brian Boru and the Irish Chieftain that was an important part of the history of Ireland. I would love to say I caught all the nuances, but I didn't. Short version Brain Boru was the first declared king of Ireland for a short time until he was killed by those lousy Vikings in a battle. The O'Brien family can claim him as an ancestor. We all need to brush up on our Irish history! |
| Part of the stchick in Kilarny |
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| The beautiful lasses in County Kerry |
Of course Patty Lee knew people who were in Killarny so we met up with them an a pub. At elevenish on a Monday night, the band finally started up and WOW! It wasn't traditional Irish music, but it was fantastic. Think "Queen" on a late Monday evening in a little bar in Killarny. As great as it was, the next night with a jam fest of traditional music was better. Another small bar in Killarny.
One of our companions Maureen had a pleasant surprise, or maybe shock would be a better word. When we met for drinks that night at out hotel pub, the handsome stranger at the other end of the bar was her very ownhusband who just happened to be passing through from Franklin, TN. And it just happened to be his big birthday. SO for a few days we added another traveler, Bill Chase to the group.
| We had to eventually leave that touristy wonderful town. and head north to Galway. No self respecting tourist could head north along the coast and not go to the Cliffs of Moher. What "moher" can I say. (Connie's daughter, sorry!.) |
The cliffs remain awe-inspiring and we were all properly awed.
So off we head to the ancient homeland of Galway. Our hotel was right across from the ocean at Salthill. That's the very same ocean that washes up to our home town of Boston. Hell you could get to Ma and Pa's hometowns from Tenean Beach if you had a mend too. Much easier to grab a flight from Logan though.
Added fun to the already fun tour was the fact that a mini group of yet more McDonoughs arrived.. Within walking distance of us and a great bar called O'Connors. It was such fun to see the youngins hanging out in the Old Sod (with the old sods)
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| Not actually billed as a pub crawl.. |
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| The Fahey Women in Galway |
Anyway back to Salthill, the very place that Ma went dancing! More than a hundred years ago now. Dennis has been working furiously to get the family tree in some semblance of order and arranged with Dermot, the Irish jack of all trades to take a side trip to the hometowns of the Ma and Pa. Carraroe for Pa and Tir anNach or something like that for Ma. Chuck, Dennis and Dermot went on an excursion to that area of Connemara and reported that it looked like the dark side of the moon and no wonder everybody left. Which had some truth to it but of course we had to see for ourselves. So the big ass bus went down some little ass roads the next day and we got a chance to really see the places that Ma and Pa spent their childhood days.
I Carraroe we had no idea of Pa's actually address so we went to the town beach area and pictured him there, gathering what was useful for the stew pot. There was a monument stone there commemorating the babies who died before Baptism. Dermot said that was not an unusual sight. Many communities erected these stones for the infants that couldn't be buried in consecrated cemeteries. Some of them were placed near Viking or pagan grave sites, in the hopes that God would be nearby.
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| A picture of the old church, inside the new church in Carriroe |
Jackie and I also wormed our way into to parish church which appeared locked, but we found a door in the back. It was obviously a new fangled Catholic church with the alter in the middle, but there was a photo of the ruin of the old church in a respectful place.
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| The great grandfather of these two gentlemen surely walked this beach. Steve and Mike in Carraroe |
So off to Ma's small village where Dermot swore it was the first time a luxury tour bus graced the back roads of this part of Ireland. After some searching in the drizzle we found the ancient ruins and took a few pictures of the place where Ma was a young wan. This is the time to tell the story, in case anyone does not know it, of Ma's subterfuge to get to America.
Being one of the younger of the siblings McDonough, Ma went to school and learned to read and write in English. When a letter came from a relative in Pittsburg offering to lend the money needed to take a ship to America to Martin,(the boy) if he could be spared. He could pay them back when he made enough money working in America. Catherine (Ma) translated the letter to say Martin could not be spared, but Catherine could come. Parents agreed, Ma wrote the letter and the rest as they say is history. None of the other siblings ever left the old country and we sadly do not really know what happened to them. We know for sure that the oldest sibling (probably named Mary) died young. That would have left 3 boys. It's hard to believe none of them married and had children. Others who have traveled to Ireland may know more than me. I may not be 100% on the name of the brother being Martin, it might have been Tom. Which just goes to illustrate the saying that history is written by the iffy people-or some such verbiage.
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| The childhood home of Ma McDonough. Where she no doubt hatched the false story that got her to America. |
OK, this blog has long since become long and boring - so to wrap it up - went to Belfast via Sligo (visited Yeat's grave, Dermot recited some of his poetry of course) In Belfast we stayed in the hotel which had the distinction of being the most bombed hotel in Europe. Dermot wisely didn't mention that fact until we checked out. We went to the Titanic museum and road through the "Troubles" neighborhood which was very interesting to see the opposing billboards (Revolution vs. God Save the Queen)
I enjoyed Belfast, even though we had to find English money for tips and such. Problems of the first world citizen you say?
I enjoyed Belfast, even though we had to find English money for tips and such. Problems of the first world citizen you say?
The "wild Atlantic Coast" of Ireland is a respectable contender for any "Most Beautiful Vistas in the World" competitions one might like to come up with. OK, Connemara's beauty is a bit peculiar. But many people love boulders and rock filled fields. The big picture Ireland is an experience that is worth doing again and again. I for one intend to be back!
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At least they're working |
