Coicís in Éirinn

20 Lúnasa, 2007--Slán ag Tigh Bhric

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 16:51:00 +0000

It's been quite awhile since my last post and it's been over a year since i went to and came back from Ireland. But I'm nearly finished so hang in there.

The 20^th was the day i had to leave Tigh Bhric. By now i felt like i lived there, like the pub abd restaurant was my livingroom and dining room, and the hearth was mine too. I wish. Anyway Adrienne gave me a nie deal on the stay, we chatted awhile and i got a ride into town with Martin who was going that way anyway.

Slán agat a Thigh Bhric! Go n-éirí leat!

I had already made arrangements to stay at the Goat Street Cafe, so i went there for a cup of coffee while i waited for my room to be ready. I still had the bike so i had to leave that outside for the time being. I'd be returning it the next day because today i needed it to do a bit more exploring. I'd seen this weird tower on this point on the other side od Dingle harbour so i thought i'd check that out.

Once i was settled in i went off to find the tower. It wasn't particularly far. the whoe peninsula is surprisingly small—if i'd had a road bike i could have gone further than i did, but i wouldn't have been able to go off-road like i wanted to. Maybe next time i'll bring the Surly Cross Check i'm hoping to buy next spring.

anyway, the tower. theres a road running down the point from the main Slea Head Drive, not more than a few miles probably, that leads out to the tower. the tricky part is that it's on a really really steep hill, riddled with sheep and cows. and bulls. lots of signs warned tourists and would-be tower seekers not to go through particular fields because of the presence of bull. might have BEEN bull too, because you have to pay to use the “official” trail, which i did—partially. I had less than a euro in my pocket, please forgive me if you are the owner of that land and you are reading this through some miracle of Google technology. I swear i was very low impact, and did not intentionally scare the sheep, although this guy scared ME a little.

It was one hell of a steep climb. Lovely. the trail switched back on itself numerous times and went through a couple gates. The tower itself was pretty impressive—not for its size or design really, but for the fact that you knew that a bunch of famine era guys had to gather the stone and pile it up just so in that remote location, on that super-windy hill. for all i know they had to haul the stone up the hill from the bottom. anyway, the tower's called Eask Tower and its purpose was to guide ships into Dingle harbour—the harbour's mouth was hidden in a way because of the way the land sort of protects it, which could be why they called the town “An Daingean” in the first place, which means “the fortress.” there was once a big wooden hand pointing toward the harbour. That's apparently blown away, because there's no sign of it nearby.

The view from Carhoo hill on which the tower is situated was incredible. I could see seaguls wheeling around far below me, and hear the waves smashing the rocks. and the wind was madness on the climb up. see THIS video and THIS video too.

After i left the tower, i was ooking for something else to see and I noticed that there was a little red dot on the map i had near my location. so i decided to go ahead and try to locate it. you never know what challenges are ahead using this “wing it” aproach. Turns out it wasn't a red dot at all in reality but a ring fort. It was out in a field, and there were some guys building (yet another) new house nearby so i asked if they knew who owned the land as i'd like to get permission to cross their land. they said not to bother, so i left the bike, hopped a wall and walked. Windy here too. It was a really interesting fort, nice and lumpy, suggesting the presence of something below the surface. There was a hole in the ground that looked like it may have been the entrance to a souterrain. These pictures will tell you more than i can say in words, but even the pictures don't quite get the feeling of being there.

After the fort i was ready to give up the bike. I brought it back to Paddy's Bike Rentals and paid my balance—i had the bike for a few extra days over what i'd paid for. It was a decent bike, definitely not the lightest frame out there, but really great for exploring off-road. and i never got a flat, luckily.Thank's Paddy! I highly recommend you pay Paddy a visit if you're in the market for a bike in the Dingle area.

As i walked trough town i noticed a place caled the Dingle Music School. They apparently give lessons in tin whistle, fiddle, bodhran and the like. I brought my bodhran with me on the trip, thinking i might get a chance to use it at a session or something, so i thought i'd see if they had someone at the school who could give me an advanced lesson so i could improve my chops, or at least know what i was supposed to be doing so i could practice on my own. they didn't have anyone there who taught at the advanced level, so they gave me the phone number of a guy named Eric, who's French, and who is, or was, THE bodhran player in Dingle. I called but had to leave a message. he never did call back but i ended up meeting im at a pub called Ó Flaitheartaigh's, where there was a regular (day of the week) night seisiún. We agreed to meet the following day. I brought my drum to that session but he never did step aside to let me play. looking back, i think this was a hint of what i was going to experience at our “lesson.”

in this photo, Eric is on the right, me third from left, then Dan and then Maria is to Eric's left. I met Dan and Maria on the boat to the Blasket Islands, but that's tomorrow's story.

So that's it for the 20^th. my first night at the Goat Street Cafe was a little noisy—the sounds of the nightlife in Dingle filtering in through the sky light. but it seems to end early over there anyway.

one other thing—i bought a ticket for a trip the following day on the boat The Peig Sayers. The Peig Sayers sails from Dingle Harbour out to the Great Blaskett Island – an Blascaod Mór – and i knew that if i didn't go to the island, i'd get no end of grief for it when i got back home, considering the fact that of the folks who lived on the island all those years ago, many of them ended up in the Springfield Massachusetts area – my back door. Honestly i would have gone anyway.More on that trip next time.

19 Lúnasa, 2007—ag stealladh báistí

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 16:45:00 +0000

Weirdly, i didn't get a hangover the entire time i was there. ok, actually there was the one. but just one? i don't get it. probably mixed my drinks the night before.

on the sunday after the course was finally done it rained, of course. it didn't start out raining, but waited behind the hills to ambush me as soon as i was out and about.once i was far enough from warm dryness to really pour it on and make me suffer. weather is cruel. my pathetic raincoat, bought at sears about 8 years ago, more for show than for weather, didn't help much.

morning—breakfast. then straight out on the bike into the murky day, with the sky above simmering like a pot about to boil. part of me could feel the rain coming, the other part assured me it didn't matter. the little red dots on the map that marked all the interesting archeology were glowing like little holy grails, daring me to find them. connect the dots. that poor map was more water damaged than i was by the end of it, like a dollar bill that's left in your pocket through the wash, rinse and spin cycles.

my goal was to hit as many dúns, raths, ruins of whatever sort, as possible by lunchtime, then climb up Cruach Mhártháin (a mountain nearby) afterwards. i figured the bike trip wouldn't be too long. i took the Slea Head drive anti-clockwise and headed for Dun Caoin. Most of the sites i picked were off the main road, closer to the coast. Some of them were leave-your-bike-at-this-gate-and-walk-a-mile-through-this-field sorts of places. totally worth it though. some were marked by the “official gate”--sort of a modified turnstile. reminded me a bit of a toggle switch. you can't get a bike through, or really more than one person at a time, and i guess it prevents sheep and cows from getting in or out as well.

a particularly cool place i managed to get to was labeled “Ferriter's Castle” on the map. That's “Caisleán an Fhéirtéaraigh” in Irish. it was out on a headland stretching out sort of westish. I had a bit of trouble finding the road in. it was there on the map, but wasn't so easy to spot. i had to go down what looked like somebody's driveway to get to it. the road itself was ankle deep in mud, so i knocked on the door of the nearest house (still under construction) and asked could i leave my bike in their drive. they said yes, so i did and then footed it.

totally worth it. what a great place. deep cliff-faced coves on either side, water churning and grinding into the rock. private property signs prevented me from going out to the very end of the point, (well, a sense of respect did, i suppose) but the castle ruin was right there where the private land started. if i had tried to trespass, i'm sure the local sheep would have had something to say about it.

afterwards, as i rode the bike around some more, i realized i was on a marked trail, i think it's called the Dingle Way. I nearly fell into a puffhole. at least i think that's what you call them. the sea carves a cave into the cliff face, then the ground above gives way, sometimes creating a hole in the ground that goes down to sea level. i'm imagining the water rushing through to be jettisoned out the top like a geyser. voila! puffhole.

finally, it was time to have some lunch. there was a cafe on the main road, so i stopped. inevitably, someone who had taken the course walked in. a very actorly looking man with eyebrows like caterpillars and a voice like a foghorn. friendly, open face, and very curious about the american who could speak the Irish. we chatted for awhile as we ate. also saw this adorable cat.

(tangent--i got stung by nettle at some point too. here's a picture of what it looks like, so you can avoid it if you're ever in a country where it grows.)

well i had wanted to climb Cruach Mhártháin, but it was raining so hard by the time i left the cafe that i decided i'd settle for this attractive

lump of rock.

i was attracted by the line of boulders on the top that looked a lot like the broken teeth of a giant, and as i have a thing for teeth... i could see the Blasketts from there anyway. but the clouds came right down to my eye level, so visibility was pretty bad.

afterwards, i collected the bike from the roadside, took the surprisingly short ride back to Tigh Bhric, and asked Pól for something warm with whiskey in it. i took my drink and sat by the fire. there is NOTHING better than that sort of comfort after that sort of complete soaking wetness! This would be my last night at Tigh Bhric as well. The next day i'd be moving to the Goat Street Cafe for 2 nights.

18 Lúnasa—lá déireanach an chúrsa

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 17:13:00 +0000

Today was a happy and sad one. Last day of the course. We had a class in the morning, then a big meeting of everyone who attended in the meeting room. There was a bit of music, a lot of thanks-giving. and we were all presented with certificates that state we completed the course—well, more like attended the course, as there was no test or aything at the end.

I had arranged to have lunch with Fergal, Patricia and Elaine. I think we went to Tigh an tSaorsaigh but i really don't remember. after lunch we said our goodbyes and promised we'd see each other next year. well, we'll see, i guess. shit happens.

Here's a lovely picture of the four of us Gaeilgeoirí--

Obviously, after saying goodbye, i felt like i didn't have anywhere to go for awhile. So of course i spent some money. That always makes Americans feel better. At least i spent it in support of Oireacht Chorca Dhuibhne by purchasing stuff at their museum's gift shop. I didn't actually spend a lot of money on “stuff” while i was over there—mostly i went and looked atthings or drank my money down. after i'd spent enough at the shop, I wandered back to Tigh Bhric for awhile. I ended up going to the Gallarus Oratory, which is a small stone structure, shaped like an upside-down boat, in which early Christians in Ireland would hold whatever “services” they had back then. It was built using a technique called “dry corbelling” which means there's no mortar used in it at all. The thing still sheds water better than most modern houses. and it's centuries old. the walls are 3 to 4 feet thick. it's sagging a bit in the middle, but i don't think it's going to be collapsing anytime soon.

The man at the desk there at the Gallarus Visitor's Center was an Irish-speaker, and so we talked for a good 20 minutes or so. that made me feel a bit better about the folks i COULDN'T understand—the locals with the really heavy accents. maybe this guy was a transplant—who knows? After i paid him, i watched the little movie about the place, its history, etc. on my way to the oratory itself, i realised there was a way in where you didn't have to pay. led right off the road directly to the site, bypassing the visitor's center altogether! crap. well i didn't need that €12 anyway. i bought a stupid little keychain with the name “Horgan” on it too, as it's related to mom's maiden name “Hourihan” by way of “Ó hAnragháin” and “Ó hAnracháin.”

there at the oratory i saw this little guy, or gal--the fearless sort, if a bit small.

oh yeah, the other touristy thing i did, other than just being an american in Ireland, was to go check out the Láthair Mhainistreach an Riaisc (The Reask monastic site,) about a quarter mile from Tigh Bhric. Its's thought this settlement was established in the 6th Century. It's features include a handful of beehive huts made of native stone, one of which would have been an oratory like the Gallarus one. It was encompassed by a stone wall, and split roughly in two by another, creating seperate living and sacred spaces. None of the structures still stand as they did originaly, but all the stonework has been built back up to about waist height to show the layout. It was fun to try to imagine waking up in the morning, stepping out of a stone hut to greet the day. And you're half a mile from the ocean there too, so that's not too shabby.

I met this guy Tim there, from Cornwall, i think, if i remember at all. He was riding his motorbike around after just having bought it. Took the ferry over into Dublin or Cork or somewhere. I can't remember how we got to talking, because i was about to mount my own two wheeled conveyance and leave. I must have had a fit of friendliness. Anyway i'm glad i did, or he did—he was a nice guy and i told him about a concert that night at Tigh Bhric. (Martin, the Dutch born waiter and housekeeper there was percussionist in a band that was playing.) He was fun to talk to on account of his accent. We drank way too much—closed the pub. which is fine for me since all i had to do was crawl up to bed. He on the other hand had to get on his bike and head back to his lodgings and hope the Gárdaí didn't get him. I assume they didn't. I don't really know, but i'm the optomistic sort. sort of.

Damned if i can remember what he did for a living. oh shit, i just remembered that i was dancing at that concert. i must've had a few too many...

as mo dhialann Gaeilge...

ó a íosa chríost, do bhí an díoma orm inné. ach tar éis piúnta Bulmer's agus dinnéar mór—agus píosa cainte le mo chailín thánaig chugam fhéin arís.

bhí an-oíche againn aréir—chuamar go dtí áit a thugtar “an teach siamsa” air—tigh ceann tuí is ea é, agus tinteán mór istigh ann. bhí tine móna lasta, agus fáilte roimhe! bhíomar go léir fliuch báite de dheasca na haimsire. b'fhéidir le gach éinne amhrán a rá nó tiúin a casadh agus chas mise mo bhodhrán agus dúirt “cailleach an airgid” den chéad uair in Éirinn (tá sí ráite agam i Mericeá cheana)

Anois insan phub le Tim, duine a mbuaileas leis ar an mbóthar inniu agus mé ag tabhairt cuirte ar an Riasc Monestery. Tá banda Mháirtín ag seinm anocht, leis. bíodh geall go mbeidh sé sin an-simiúil ar fad.

Cúpla seanfhear anseo ag caint na Gaeilge, agus boladh deas na mona ar snámh ar an aer...

shite, is file mé...

as mo dhialann Ghaeilge--17 Lúnasa, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 00:58:00 +0000

(ná déan dearúd—ní usáidtear “breá” ó thaobh na haimsire. usáidtear “go hiontach” ach usáidtear “go breá” i gConamara. sin a dúirt múinteoir na damhsa dúinn—is as Conamara í, so tá a fhios aici ar a gnó!

Cloch Ógham (le aibítear ann ag Cill Mac Calder (litriú???)

anois-táim CHOMH TUIRSEACH! agus saghas braon den Ghaeilge- brathaim níos mó agus níos mó dúire gach lá. agus táim ag feitheamh ar leath a sé chun dinnéir a fháil.

bhí léacht againn iniu mar gheall ar “Hy Bhrasaíl”--an t-oileán droicht a sholáithríonn gach 7 mbliana. tá scéal in a taobh ann chomh maith. ba bhreá liom an scéal a léamh.

17 Lúnasa--fillíocht agus siamsa

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 18:42:00 +0000

Funny thing—i've been trying like MAD to get a recording from Radió na Gaeltachta of the interview i mentioned in the last post. my emails were either bounced back or whatever. but yesterday i got home and there was a copy in the day's mail! i listened to it and i have to say i have trouble listening because even though the interview went fine i get so embarassed about my voice, my Irish, how nervous i was, etc. if i hadn't been so nervous it would have been 300 times better. “I will not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Etc...” but it was good to finally get it. they made my voice sound more manly than i really am too. Bonus!

by now (on the trip i mean) i'm getting a bit sick of speaking in Irish. well how long do you expect me to go? don't get me wrong--i still love, teach and speak the language as often as i can. but i have a new respect for anyone who moves to a new country and has to learn the language of its people. it's frustrating and exhausting. this is the day i actually started avoiding people so i didn't have to talk so much. it didn't work, though. apparently i did talk to people because there are lists in my journal of poets that i should read, which i haven't yet. reading peotry in a foreign language is difficult but the nice thing about it is there's not necessarily a particular context so you get all sorts of words thrown together. well—depending on the poetry i guess. not like in a newspaper where you can expect a certain vocab and certain words pop up again and again—which is also helpful. blather blather.

class as usual today. i think this was the day of the “Great Debate”--”An Díospóireacht Mhór” is something like it in irish, i think. there were 2 teams—one in favor of the decision to cancel all Aer Lingus serveces from Shannon and move them to Belfast, the other against. i said not 2 words as i had not any opinion on the matter, and i had not all the facts. i don't know what merciful power was at work there, but i thank it from the bottom of my soul!

There was also a lecture given on the topic of the magical island of Hy Bhrasaíl (prononced “high VRASS-eel) which supposedly is to be seen every 7 years from the westernmost coast of Ireland, somewhere in the vicinity of the dingle peninsula. there's a lot of legend built up around it. some think it's the lost city of Atlantis. I suspect that when J.R.R.tolkein was researching mythologies he was influenced by this one—his "Numenor" also disappeared in the west.

Later we all went to this place called, em, what was it called? An Teach Siamsa, or something like that. Síamsa means entertainment. It was a big open seisiún where everyone had an opportunity to do a song or tune or recite poetry or whatever. I did “ceallach an airgid” again, accompanied myself on the bodhrán. it was a particularly wet night, and very dark out in the countryside there. the house was a jumbo-sized version of a teach ceann tuí—a thatch-roofed cottage. there were freakin' bleachers in there! and a lighting rig! i got a few good vids and pics.

after that, the four of us fine friends went to a book launch at An Leabhar Pub, somewhere nearby. we got a little lost but got directions from someone. the book was poetry (again with the poetry!) and written by the wife of a guy in my class, Billy, his wife's name was...was...Carolne, i think. don't quote me. we sort of missed the launch, but there were a few musicians there, and this guy from Turkey, who had a lot of opinions. i was a bit drunk so i didn't really care much. Patricia gave me a ride home and that was a night.

as mo dhialann Ghaeilge--16 Lúnasa, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 00:57:00 +0000

ócé so tá sé déanta anois—an t-agallamh ag Raidió na Gaeltachta i mBaile na nGall. Dara Ó Cinnéide a bhí an t-agallóir--sarimreóir peile is ea é arbh as an cheantar seo dó.

níos déanaí--

amárach atá ann—bhíos insan phub le mo chairde nua-Feargal, Pat agus Elaine—tá an-ghean agam ar mo chairde nua. níos luaithe bhí ceolchoirm ar siúl ag ionad na Blascaoid, agus do chas mé an bodhrán le dream ann. roimhe sin, bhí dinnéar agam le Tomás Ó Muircheartaigh. Sin é anois.

16 Lúnasa--Lá an Agallaimh!

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Mon, 25 Feb 2008 19:04:00 +0000

The morning—like any other so far—was begun with a lovely big breakfast complete with rashers, eggs, sausage, pudding and cereal. Then, it was off to school to get whisked away to--

THE INTERVIEW!

dum dum DUUUUMMMM!

I got basically crammed into a tiny car with 4 other people and driven to Baile na nGall (Ballydavid) to the local Raidió na Gaeltachta station, to be introduced quickly to the secretary at the radio office, sign a few release forms, pushed into the studio to meet the presenter, Dara Ó Cinnéide—yes--the famous Gaelic Footballer—along with the other three. It happened pretty quickly. I make it sound like it we were treated like cattle, but really we weren't. It was just so damned efficient. Almost like they did that sort of thing every day or something. ;)

So there were the 5 of us, Dara included, sitting around a smallish round table with mics bristling from its center, and the room itself was fairly spacious. I presume they have bands and such in there from time to time. I expected to be in a pretty confined space, but that was just nerves, probably. We waited about 5 minutes in silence, waiting for the engineer to give us the ok after the news and weather would be over. It was weird listening to the news, as i've done so many times on Raidió na Gaeltachta, knowing that it was me and my friends that were going to be on NEXT! i was quite nervous, but it was over quicker than you can imagine, and, being the least fluent one there, i was spared a longer interview by the gracious Dara, gentleman that he is.

It was quite exhilerating even considering my nervousness and the gibberish that must have issued from my mouth. Everyone was quite happy at the end of it all, and the two women with us were GUSHING over that handsome Dara all the way back to the school.

After all the pats on the back from my classmates, we got back to work. On what specifically i do not remember. In the afternoon a series of visits to various sites of archeological significance had been arranged, and that is what i spent part of the afternoon doing. We visited the Gallarus Castle site, and a “cathair,” called "Cathair Déargáin," which is like a stone-walled fort, and we visited another fort with earthen walls called a “dún.” Not much was left to see of the dún, as the walls have worn down to a low earthen ring covered in tufty grass. This is what is often called a “fairy fort” and they appear all over the place in Ireland. There's a lot of superstition built up around them, and people often avoid them, especially at night, when the border between this world and the other blurs. in actuality they were the locations of stone huts surrounded by the earthen wall, and were where a farming family would have lived centuries ago. Likewise with the stone-walled “cathair,” but that would have been a landowner with slightly more means. I visited quite a few of the earthen-walled sites on my own, and had no bad luck, except that i had to wait 11 hours at JFK on my return trip—but that's a later story.

the Gallarus castle, it was explained to us, was not so much a castle as a tower house. It was an example of a typical rich landowner's house of the time period (15th century in this case) and its style was derived from styles popular in Europe at the time. It was indeed a very well fortified fortress of sorts, and had one or two interesting features that impressed me greatly. One was the outward slope of the bottom portion of the outer walls. this was arranged so that any bodies falling from above might bounce off the slope and into the attackers below, thus throwing them off balance, i guess. It's just the idea that someone thought of that that really delights me. The other feature that impressed me was the Murder Hole. This was a hole in the ceiling above a small (3 x 3-ish foot) room. The intruding enemy could be trapped within the room, then boiling oil could be poured down upon him. Crispy fried soldier! It was pretty interesting.

I had dinner with Tom Moriarty, as happened pretty often once i discovered that Café na Cille had the best food in town and the most reasonable prices. In fact, if it weren't for that place, i would have had to double my Guinness intake just to stay regular.

Later all of us students went to the Blaskett Visitors Center, where we were entertained by loads of local talent. The M.C. was another local Ráidió na Gaeltachta presenter, Pádraig Ó Sé. I didn't understand everything he said, but i did get to play my bodhrán at the end with a bunch of other volunteers, who came up to finish the night with a song or two all at once. From there it was off to the pub, where i spent a lovely evening with Fergal, Patricia, and Elaine.

as mo dhialann Gaeilge--15 Lúnasa, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 04:15:00 +0000

R.N.

A dhialainn, a chara...

tá agallamh ag teastáil ó Raidió na Gaeltachta agus ní fheadar an inniu atá sé nó amárach. nó an Aoine. ach pé scéal é, caithfidh mé a rá go mbraithim mar pháiste óg ó thaobh na Gaeilge de, tar éis an líofacht chomh láidir atá le cloisint sa cheantar so agus ar an gcúrsa seo.

muinín, a Mharcais, muinín. bíodh muinín agat.

I.N.

do chuas go dtí Dún an Óir—níl mórán le feiscint ach amháin an radharc (atá ana-dheas ar fad!) agus tá “leac cuimhne” (???) ann leis. is cosúil gurbh insan séú aois déag rinneadh ár uafásach ar slua mór saighdiúirí ag airm Cromwell. Gearradh na cinn den gach duine acu, is dóigh.

Bhí madra ann ar mo bhealach go dtí na háite, agus chonacthas domsa go raibh sé ag iarraidh greim bia a dhéanamh de mo chois! faoi dhó a rith sé chugam—ar an mbealach sall agus an bealach anall. (ó scríobhadh an píosa seo, rith sé liom gurbh ag smaoineamh gur caora mé a bhí sé, agus bhí sé ag iarraidh mé a bhuachailleacht!)

cad eile—ó sea, amárach—bhuel ar dtús caithfidh mé insint duit, a dhialainn, gur bhuaileas le Maidhc Ó Cealaigh, an fear a mbuaileas leis ar an idirlíon roimhe seo! B'ionadh mór é sin, gan dabht! Mar sin, amárach, tar éis an sois, beidh agallamh á dhéanamh orm agus ar Mhaidhc, agus beirt eile. ag an stáisiún raidió de chuid R na G.

YIKES!!!

15 Lúnasa, 2007--an tríú lá den chúrsa

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 18:23:00 +0000

Ok, what happened today? I was feeling pretty inept as far as my Irish was concerned. I was finding out how NOT fluent i was, especially after talking to some of the locals. Of course they had really thick accents so i guess i should give myself the benefit of the doubt there.

Classes as usual. I found out it was the following day that the interview would be done on Radió na Gaeltachta in Baile na nGall (Ballydavid.) That was nerve wracking, but it was nice to find out that another guy, Mike Kelly, whom i had been speaking Irish with online for some time, and who lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, was also going to be undergoing the grilling. He saw my name on the whiteboard in the assembly room, recognized my name and went a'looking for me. It was nice to meet him face to face! He's an amazing old fellow, in his 70's but still traveling and kayaking and all that.

I also went over to a “ruin” or whatever you want to call it, called “Dún an Óir,” The Fort of Gold, i suppose in English. there's really not much there—it's more of a memorial or monument to the lives lost when Cromwell's men attacked a group of Irish, Spanish and Italian forces who were holed up there in the 17th century, i believe. After surrendering, all but the Italian commander were slaughtered. Here's a picture of the monument that stands at the parking area.

I remember that on the way, a sheepdog tried to herd me. at first i thought it was trying to make a meal of me. I realized my mistake later. Also on the way i saw a brilliant rainbow. Tried to get a picture of it but it's pretty hard to do—they tend to go away.

I also saw this old chapel on the way to Dún an Óir—Dún Úrlann. A 15th century structure that was unearthed in about 1991. a lot of the architectural elements were to be found there, like the stones carved as rain gutters, a nice window sill carved from rock, and the holy water font, also stone-carved.

that's about it. i think we can all assume that i ended the night with Guinness. Let's just leave it at that.

More to Come

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 20:43:00 +0000

I've been busy with the holidays, a side job translating Irish for a software company, teaching and other things, but I haven't forgotten about this here blog.

A new post is in the works! I have to get on it or i'll forget the whole trip. Ah--ain't old-age great?

As mo dhialann Gaeilge--14 Lúnasa, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 02:49:00 +0000

Right, so táim i gCaife na Cille ag ól cupán caife agus bhí Tomás Ó M. i m'aice le haghaidh an dinnéir. Níl mórán le rá agam inniu. fuaireas síob go dtí an Daingean chun airgid a fháil, agus stampaí...chuireas cúpla carta poist sa bosca agus sin a bhfuil. ach amháin gur usáideas ríomhaire ag an caife idirlíon.

anois a sé a chloig. níl faic le déanamh agam go dtí go bhfuil a hocht ann.

14 Lúnasa, 2007—an dara lá den chúrsa

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 18:07:00 +0000

Well, today I went to my first session of this trip, but i'll tell of that later....

I wish I could remember what we studied in class or what have you, maybe i can go look through my notes and figure that out. But for now let's just say that day 2 of the course was a lot like day 1, only less unfamiliar. I did forget to mention the activities that were planned for the evenings--the reason we had a “break” from half three to eight is because it wouldn't be a break without something required to do on either side of it! At eight each evening there were various activities planned—lectures, trivia games, performances, that sort of thing. On the first day of the course, i forgot to mention, there was a trivia game called “Tráth na gCeist” in Irish, meaning “The Question Period.” It was sort of a contest to see who knew the most about various pop culture things, only most of the references were to Irish TV and politicians and sports figures and such, so i was at a distinct disadvantage. I wish I could remember what the activity was the second night. I believe it was a lecture by a man named Ferriter from the area, obviously, who introduced us to some of the features of the peninsula using stories and maps and the like. It was all done in Irish as well, as was everything having to do with the course at all.

The notable events of the day—hmmm, let's see—I got a ride with Fergal into town to get some more cash. (where did i spend what i had before???) and i put a couple postcards in the mail. I may have mentioned that the Ballyferriter Oifig an Phoist was closed due to the death of the poor postman! Small town excitement. I used the computer at the internet café as well.

I was approached by Máire Uí Shíthigh at some point during the day about whether or not i would mind being interviewed on the local radio station. She said that Raidió na Gaeltachta usually did this sort of thing when the course was runing, and were especially interested in speaking to people who are living in other countries and learning Irish. The program is called “An saol ó Dheas” (life in the south.) I said yes, naturally.

I finally managed to spend a little time with my friend Tom Moriarty, who lives in the next town over from me here in America, and who is a retired professor of history. I was surprised that it took me a couple days to track him down in such a small town! But i ran into him in a place called Caife na Cille, which in my opinion had the best food in Ballyferriter and the cheapest to boot. Nice wraps and salads and tasty tasty good stuff. And good coffee as well. I highly recommend the place if you find yourself in Ballyferriter.

Tom and i had dinner and then he went off to take a nap before the evening's events. I wrote in my journal and was generally bored. I don't think i did more than ride back to the B+B to hang out, maybe i didn't. But after the lecture at 8 we all went to Tigh Ó Murchú for a session. It was an open session, but the guests of honor were “Na Fraincigh”--a group of French musicians who go to Ballyferriter annually and play for a couple of nights at Murphy's pub there in the village. They were great. Some people who were taking the course got up and sang songs as well. I like that in Ireland it's ok to just get up and tell a story or sing a song if you want to. Seems that's what pubs are for. The craic, they call it. No it's not a drug. Craic means fun. Simple as that.

This is the group "an Francaigh" playing at th pub, along with other local musicians. It was beyond loud in there!

This is the same pub. I thought i'd be funny and take video of my friends on the down-low. brilliant stuff, really. move over, Geraldo.

I didn't write much in my diary today, and I only took about 4 pictures and as many videos. I must have been too busy! I did see these cute old ladies dancing together as the band played a waltz.

As mo dhialann Ghaeilge--13 Lúnasa, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 02:42:00 +0000

ócé so bhíos ar tí ruda a scríobh ach tháinig cúpla seanbhean chugam chun cainte a dhéanamh liom. sin ag leathuair tar éis a seacht. anois tá leathuair tar éis meán oíche ann agus mé tar éis teacht abhaile ón pub. bhíos i dteannta Feargal as Corcaigh thiar é, agus Sinéad, agus Tomás (Ó Muirtheartaigh) agus duine eile a ndéarna mé dearúd ar a ainm.

bhí an-lá againn insna ranganna. ar dtús bhíos i rang a raibh bean darbh ainm Bríd i gceannas air ach d'aistrios go dtí ranga níos airde níos déanaí ar maidin. bhí an rang nua sin...em..ceart go leor. ní raibh mórán comhrá déanta againn. táim ag smaoineamh ar athrú eile a dhéanamh—dul thar n-ais go dtí an chéad rang, b'fhéidir...

in a dhiaidh sin bhí am lóin again, agus i ndiaidh an lóin bhí léacht le Phádraig Fitréar mar gheall ar an cheantar seo—Corca Dhuibhne—agus i ndiaidh sin, sos fada ó leath a trí go dtí a hocht. bhí dinnéar agam le Robeard agus Máirtín agus Liam. Ansin—Tráth na gCeist.

níor bhuamar aon dúiseanna.

is cuma.

réitigh cúpla piúnt sa phub an fadhb sin.

ó-rinne mé dearúd ar mo thuras go Trá an Fhíonna—Trá is ea é atá ana-ghar do Thigh bhric, agus bhí a lán daoine ann. Tá a lán grianghraifeanna glactha agam den áit, agus tá cloch ógham ann chomh maith.

Sa phub, bhí an-chomhrá againn.

sin é faoi láthair.

13 Lúnasa, 2007--an chéad lá den cúrsa agus Trá an Fhíonna

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 19:11:00 +0000

The first day of the course. I met Áine, who was staying in the room next to mine, in the dining room for breakfast. (that's her on the right in the photo, me on the left.) We sat together every day for breakfast, speaking Irish and eating our meals. She was very kind and offered me a ride almost every time. Even after i told her i had rented a bike she always asked when it was looking like rain! Very nice person.

Off on my bike with me after breakfast to the first class, or the first meeting or what have you which was held in the primary school in Ballyferriter. That's a strange building! But we got the general idea of what to expect from the week and we got our class assignments and were told how to find our classrooms. The classes were spread out all over the village, which isn't big. It was no more than a 2 minute walk to even the most remote class. Mine at first was in one of the boarding houses—a small room at the front of the house. Bríd Úna was my teacher. I liked her—she was a fast talker, very animated and it seemed like the class was going to be fun. She asked us at one point to say a few words about what we hoped to get from the course. When it was my turn i said something like “to push the limits of my fluency by engaging in conversation with people who are a bit more fluent than myself!” right. I think that’s pretty much what everyone wanted, i just put it in those really blunt terms. I mean, you don't learn much from people who are LESS fluent than yourself, so the remedy is obvious.

At lunchtime i was approached by the indefatigable Máire Uí Shíthigh, the queen bee of the program. She's the one who organized the whole affair. I'm sure she had lots of help, but frankly, without her it wouldn't have been nearly as good. Anyway she said she'd like to put me in a class one level higher because Bríd Úna mentioned to her what i said and she thought i'd benefit from going up a level. Wow. They really have it all together, these people from an Oidhreacht Chorca Dhuibhne! They were really listening to what the students were saying, apparently! So i moved up to the next level for the afternoon and proceeded to flounder for the rest of the day. It was Tough! Very hard. The first day is always hard but i just sealed it by being a loudmouth!

The one thing that worried me was that there wasn't much conversation in that first class. My teacher's name was Róisín Ní Gairbhí, and she was super smart. I kept thinking how small her head was to hold all that knowledge! She had poems, songs, idioms coming out of her ears. So much wonderful knowledge. So in the end, actually, well before the end, i was enjoying the class immensely because her teaching style suited me quite well.

So my head was reeling by dinner time. But i had made a few friends—Fergal, Sinéad, and a couple people whose names I've forgotten, though i mention Máirtín in my diary. I forget who he was though. Anyway i think we went down to the pub at the hotel later on—Óstán an Bhuailtín i think was the name if it. Not really a traditional pub atmosphere, actually more for the folks who like a little tacky elegance. But the Guinness was good and we had a right nice time talking it up.

Earlier, though, i should mention, we had a break from about 3:30 on to about 8. this gave us a good chance to rest or in my case to head out on the bike to explore the immediate area a bit. Directly across the road from Tigh Bhric was a small road that led off to Trá an Fhíonna--Wine Strand they call it in English. It’s a very popular swimming and camping destination for a good number of folks. I rode over and took a few pictures. It’s a lovely beach, actually just one in a set of beaches that stretch for a few miles on Smerwick harbour. There's a lot of really thick tufty grass up higher above the beach, and that's where i found myself when i came across the first ogham stone i've ever seen. These stones were erected, they say, to mark territory, generally. I got a nice little book detailing the location and inscriptions of all the known ogham stones on the dingle peninsula. Anyway it was pretty nice, covered in yellow lichen and little yellowish snails. The writing was pretty worn, but still fairly visible. And the setting really gets your imagination going.

A bit later i saw some folks down on the beach, one of which was a topless little 11 or 12 year old girl playing with her equally topless brother. Hmmm, i thought. There was no one else around except a woman who was maybe 100 yards down the beach, slowly making her way toward them with her arms outstretched as if she were pretending to fly.

Well that was day one at the course—a very satisfying one overall. I was extremely glad that it had begun and that i had some structure to my days for awhile. It helped me familiarize myself with the area so later in the week when the course was over i knew better what i wanted to do with myself.

as mo dhialann Ghaeilge--12 Lúnasa, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Sun, 30 Sep 2007 22:59:00 +0000

Bricfeasta—yum! Rice Krispies, caife, úll, yogurt—agus cúpla Gearmánach insan seomra liom—mé im' aonar mar sin féin--

ó diabhal an rud—oíche aréir—tháinig an leanúin béal dorais isteach an-déanach, agus ansin chaitheadar dhá uair a chloig ag bualadh craicinn! Yikes!

Ok, seo agam anois an chuid eile mo bhricfeasta.

Bainfidh mé an-sult as!

Níos déanaí--

am dinnéir anois. Do bhíos in ann caint le cúpla duine inniu as Gaeilge, ach rudaí simplí a rá den chuid is mó.

Agus shiúl buachaill le súil amháin tharam díreach anois—aisteach! Ní raibh paiste air ach bhí poll in ionad a shúl! anois—cén fáth sin? Is cuma. Ní cuimhin liom ainm an tí seo. (Tigh an tSaoirsigh, b'fhéidir) á, tá an bia anseo cheanna féin...

so cad tá déanta agam inniu? bhoil—d'éirigh mé agus d'itheas mo bhricfeasta. Tar éis sin, chuas amach chun dul go dtí an Daingean ar an ordóg, agus do fuaireas síob láithreach, nó geall leis (ba luath go bhfuaireas síob) teaghlach as Baile Átha Cliath ab ea na daoine a thóg mé, agus Gaeilge acu, bhoil ag na tuismitheoirí—bhí beagán ag na páistí. D'fhagadar i lar an bhaile mé agus do shiúlas timpeall go dtí gur aimsigh mé na háiteanna a raibh á lorg agam.. fuaireas Caifé an Ghréasáin, tigh óstán in a bheith mé in ann fanacht ar feadh cúpla oíche an seachtain seo chugainn—sin The Goat Street Cafe (Caifé Sráid an Ghabhair??). Agus fuaireas rothar ar cíos ón tsiopa ag Paddy...

agus mé ag an gcaifé, do bhuaileas le bean darbh ainm Claire—bhíomar ag roinnt boird le chéile mar gheall ar an méid daoine a bhí ann, agus tá an áit sin chomh beag.

Ok, bíodh leor a rá go thugas an rothar ar ais go mBaile an Fheirtéaraigh—turas 12 km a bheag nó a mhór, agus anois tá mo chroí fós ag preabadh! Agus tá mo thóin chomh pianmhar is a bhí sé inné!

Ok, sin é go fóill...

12 Lúnasa, 2007--part 2--ón Daingean go Baile an Fhéirtéaraigh,

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Sun, 30 Sep 2007 21:48:00 +0000

Okay, so off i went , not sure how long it would take but ready with my bottles of water and my snacks from the Super Valu grocery store. i figures it would be a moderately difficult ride, given that this part of Ireland is rather hilly, and i hadn't really done any exercising since Boston Logan airport, but i was ready to take my time and enjoy the scenery.

i took the Slea Head Drive to the second turning past the rotary west of Dingle, which was a longer way through but i figured by the map that it looked less hilly. i didn't want to kill myself, you see. This took me off the main road and dropped me off in Ventry, after about 3 or 4 KM. i REALLY liked being on a bicycle in Ireland--it felt good to have my mobility and to be "on the ground" so to speak. really a part of the landscape--not just watching it whizz by in a car. i really appreciated the differences in the landscape as well--the different birds and plants, the feel of the air, the roll of the hills. very fun. anyway, i arrived in Ventry, but i didn't stay long except to have a look at the beach. on that grey, cool, rainy day it wasn't much to see. i hung out a while though, because after all, i don't get to hang out at the ocean much. eventually i headed off to find another back road to take me "home".

i took the first right turning out of Ventry. this would take me directly toward Ballyferriter. more precisely it would dump me back on the Slea Head Drive at its north loop, very close to Tigh Bhric. nice. and through a gap in the hills that wouldn't test my heart health too strenuously, i figured. i hadn't gone too far when i was heading up a pretty steady but shallow incline, and as i looked up to get my bearings i saw my first castle. well the first castle on this trip anyway. Caisleán Rath Sheanáinn. Rathanane Castle. a really beautiful ruin, destroyed by Cromwell. to get to it i had to pay 2 Euro to a woman who owned the field through which you had to walk to get there. i left my bike at her place and walked up, dodging cow and sheep patties on the way.

the castle is situated in the middle of a 2-walled circular earthen enclosure which predates the castle by 1000 years or so. it would have been the location of a farmer and his family and the location of their dwellings, probably stone huts, and their livestock. mostly it was to protect the farmers livestock fro cattle raids that were common at the time. (300 - 1000 AD) it was a really beautiful and fascinating site, anyway.

i took quite a few pictures of that particular site, some of my favorites from the entire trip.

after that i continued home. it really wasn't as far as i thought it would be. i made it well before dark, decided to grab some supper in Ballyferriter. At the pub there i had nothing special to eat, but i did see a lad who had one eye. the other eye was gone and he just had the empty socket there--kinda cool, kinda creepy! he didn't seem to care and i wasn't going to stare, so i forgot about him shortly.

i guess i walked home after that, had a pint at Tigh Bhric maybe and watched a bit of Irish television, talked to Steph on the phone and looked forward to starting the course next day.

12 Lúnasa. 2007--An Daingean, pt 1

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Sat, 15 Sep 2007 14:11:00 +0000

Panic woke me up the following day. I must have been crazy to arrange things the way i did. i had a place to stay, the course would be fine and keep me busy for the next week, but after that i'd basically be stuck at the B+B. i could take a cab to places. yeah. but i didn't even know how far i could stretch my money at this point--did i have a lot of money or was i broke? i was clueless, and immobile, not having a clue or a means of transportation. i had thought about renting a bicycle for a week, but again i hadn't any idea if i could afford it. well it was either that or only see what was within walking distance of Tigh Bhric for the rest of my trip. so i had no choice--it was either rent a bike or, or, or--not. and if not i'd be so not taking advantage of being in Ireland.

(looking back on the trip now--i wish i had rented a car for a couple of days, though i would never ever give up the experience of being on the ground--ar a bhfód is the expression in Irish. but i would have liked to drive to galway or Dublin, i think, maybe over Connor pass. anyway...next time)

i decided to hitch into Dingle (an Daingean in Irish) and find out about renting a bike, see whether there was a place i could access the internet and to get some money for the week.

remembering to situate myself on the wrong side of the road--the left--i stuck out the wrong thumb--again the left--and watched a car go past every few minutes. there wasn't much traffic on this part of the Slea Head Drive--perhaps it was too early, or perhaps most of the tourists decided it wasn't worth driving past Ballyferriter. who knows? it wasn't 5 minutes before i got my lift, however, and in my excitement i asked the driver "An bhfuil sibh ag dul go dtí an Daingean?" forgetting that there was every chance they were German or English, and wouldn't know what the hell i just said! its lucky they were from Dublin.

the man and woman driving seemed in their 40's. they were awfully friendly. their three kids, about aged 9, 13 and 17 or so, were quiet and i'd say a bit startled by the randomness of my sudden presence in the car. the father and i spoke in Irish. i was so excited to be trying it out on people who really spoke the language in Ireland! it went pretty well, i suppose, and i think i quite impressed them when i told them i was from the US. in fact, throughout my trip i found that people were pretty stunned to hear that someone could learn Irish in America without having gone to a Gaelscoil, or our equivalent of grade school and middle school, except that all classes are conducted in the Irish language. they were curious about what resources are available here, so i told them about Daltaí na Gaeilge, and Ár dTeanga Féin and the like, and about the regular immersion programs that are conducted by those groups.

anyway we talked in Irish about this and that until we reached the Dingle. i mean Dingle. whatever.

they dropped me off on Strand Street, i think. with a blurry map of the town in my head--i had done a little research online before i left--i set off up Dykegate Lane to see what i could find.

it was actually pretty early for Dingle. not too much was open just yet. i did manage to locate Paddy's Bike rentals and determined to come back when he opened a bit later. The Cafe Litertha is directly across the lane from the bikes, so i stopped in for a cup of coffee. a bit of Irish later i had a cup to go. i walked up to the Main Street and found an ATM and the post office. i did my business of buying postcard stamps there in Irish as well, and even managed to get in a joke about how it was a pity to use the stamps because they tend to be so beautiful. i think the ones i got had flowers on them or something. by then it was time to get the bike.

Paddy is a quiet man. oh he'll talk, but quietly. he has an air of calmness and patience about him that seemed contrary to the fact that he runs a bike rental shop in a pretty hopping tourist town. his shop is little more than half a room, with what seemed to be a sort of storage courtyard behind it. anyway he had a mountain bike that i was happy to rent for 50 euro for the week, plus 5 euro for the helmet that i knew i should rent but knew i wouldn't use, and the pump was free, as was the lock and key.

off i went, down to the harbour. i went out to the end of the main key, happy to be near so much water. we really need to move to the coast. we're both Pisces so of course it makes sense! in any case the view was of course great and i took some pictures to remember it by. there was a boat moored there that i was told was a famine ship--the Jeanne Johnston--it took passengers out of Ireland during the famine years. beautiful old sailing vessel--i don't know a schooner from a corsair so i can't tell you what configuration it was, but it had a bunch of sails and it looked as though pirates were going to come storming off of it and take all my booty. (NOTE--further research of my own photographs of the ship and of the internet have revealed that this is a replica of a ship that carried immigrants from Ireland to America during the famine years. it sailed out of Tralee--mb)

well i rode around a bit until it was hungry, so i went back up to the Main Street to get some lunch. i found the Goat Street Cafe, on Upper Main Street. i noticed they had accommodations there so i decided to try to get a room for a couple nights in the town near the end of my stay. that way i could take in the "city life" and be nearer the bus when i would have to take it back to the airport. it happened that they did have a room for the time i wanted. so that arranged i sat down to enjoy lunch.

that place was smaller that Paddy's Bike Rentals. i ended up changing tables twice at the suggestion of a friendly 30-something Irish woman by the name Claire--a local singer--and she and i and a friend of hers who had a cute little daughter sat and had a friendly lunch. claire ate alot. i felt a bit like i should be eating more because i was being out eaten by a small woman, but really--i needed to take it easy because i had to ride the bike all the way back to Ballyferriter without throwing up. we parted ways and i set off on my journey back, hoping to catch a glimpse of some ancient ruin or other on the way.

11 Lúnasa, 2007--Bus Éireann agus Tigh Bhric

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Fri, 14 Sep 2007 22:40:00 +0000

right.

Shannon Airport seemed extremely small compared to the behemoths that are JFK and Logan Boston. of course, i didn't see much of Shannon. i felt relieved, displaced, alone, and a bit worried that my bag didn't follow me. it did. great. so now i have to find the bus, because i had a ticket to Dingle town, and no clue when the next bus left, or even where to catch it.

it wasn't too hard to figure that all out. i saw a bus go by. i followed it to an outdoor bus shelter. it happened to be my bus, so i got on. this is 10 minutes after i got my bag.

Bus Éireann's schedule turns out to be pretty tight--except for Limerick, where i was able to walk into town to get a SIM card for my phone and a quick fish sandwich, it was off one bus and onto the next almost immediately. i didn't talk to anyone. i took some pictures, which you can see HERE at my photobucket site. mostly what i saw was highway. i was sitting on the left side of the bus, and i kept having these flashes of panic because the cars were passing us on the wrong side! i also kept looking out my window whenever we went past something i wanted a second look at, as if there were a rear-view mirror mounted on the side of the bus--i'm used to driving! anyway, it was an odd feeling, everything being flipped around like that.

after Tralee, there was a marked improvement in the quality of the landscape and views to be had from the bus window--more nature, some ruins flashing by, more cows and sheep. moo moo, baa baa. hedges, narrower roads. the real Ireland at last.

the bus dropped me off in Dingle about 3-ish, i guess. i don't really remember. at that point time was moot. i had been awake and in motion for so long that i wasn't registering much. i walked around a bit, sort of aimlessly getting my bearings. finally i decided to get a taxi in to Ballyferriter, where i knew there was a warm and cozy, if slightly expensive room waiting for me, and most importantly, once i got there--i had nowhere further to go!

i managed to get a ride with "Dolphin Taxi" service, and the driver was a pleasant fellow--a local, but i don't remember if i tried the Gaeilge on him (that's the Irish word for the Irish language, for those of you who don't know.) we were at Tigh Bhric in about 10 minutes. it was during this ride that i noticed just how narrow the roads on the Dingle peninsula are--barely room for 2 cars to pass, much less for 2 tour buses. and the cars are quite small in the green land, i have to point out!

we zipped around a bend and bang! there was Tigh Bhric. a pleasant, multi-colored building which contains a pub, a restaurant, B+B accommodations, a small food and off-license shop, and a really fine restaurant. The bean an tí, or woman of the house--Adrian (hope i spelled that right!) is not only a fine person but a fine artist as well--her sculptures, mostly metal abstracted interpretations of the human figure and the landscape or buildings and the like, are to be seen throughout the main dining room and pub, as well as the entrance to the lodgings. The fear an tí, or man of the house, Pól Ó Bric, is the one with the Irish, and the excellent suggestions for warm whiskey drinks on days on which you've been caught by the rain while riding your bicycle. both of them work tirelessly to make sure everyone is well taken care of. i was glad to be staying at the place for so long--9 nights altogether--because it gave me a chance to get to know those two a little more than the average guest probably would. Adrian insists that she's an old crank, but i swear to you she's not--she's brilliant, and loves a good conversation about art--particularly her own!

anyway, back to the account. i put my things in my room after checking in, and unpacked a bit. i felt restless, as if i should not be wasting time sitting in my room watching TV because after all i travelled a long long way to get to Ireland i damn well better get off my ass and see some of it! dinner wasn't to be served till half 6 anyhow, so i decided to have a pint and take a walk into Ballyferiter. i wanted to see the town and get a sense of how long it would take to walk to my morning classes during the next week. i had my pint out on the patio behind the pub. there was an incredible view of the surrounding fields and the distant hills and there were peacefuly grazing horses 20 feet from where i was sitting. absolutely beautiful.

oh. my. god. i LOVE drinking GUINNESS in Ireland!

thus bolstered by my first real Irish Guinness, i set out for Ballyferiter to find out just what sort of town i was to take my course in.

it wasn't far. a mile or so. took me 20 minutes to get there, maybe 25 as i was stopping and taking pictures of the part of Smerwick harbour i could see to my right--that being north. three small mountains--hills really, dominated most of the views i saw during my entire trip, as i ended up renting a bike and didn't really travel too far from Ballyferriter. "The three sisters" is the name given to these three hills collectively. They are also called Binn Hanraí, an Bhinn Meánach, and Binn Diarmada. there's a story behind why they are called the three sisters. but i don't know it. time for a little research... another view i often found before me was that of Sibyl Point, or Ceann Sibéal, which is very near the three sisters.

i walked into the town of Ballyferriter itself. on the way noticing the brightly colored Fuscia and another crazy orange flowering plant that grow commonly on the hedges in the area.. in the town itself there's really not much but 6 or 7 pubs, most of which offer accommodation as well as food. there's a hotel. there WAS a post office. trouble is it was closed due to the recent death of the postman. go raibh a anam ar thaobh dheis Dé. that made it a bit harder to get stamps and money, as the office had the only ATM in the village! there's a wee food shop, but honestly the one at Tigh Bhric was much better at 1/10th the size. Ballyferrriter is also home to the Dingle Peninsula Heritage, or an Oidhreacht Chorca Dhuibhne, an organisation that promotes the culture and heritage of the peninsula through events such as the course that i was in Ireland to take. they particularly promote the Irish language, especially the local dialect. there is a museum in the village associated with the organization which houses some of the archaeological artifacts found on the peninsula, as well as the local history and legends. There is a handy little bookshop and cafe there as well.

but this particular visit i was not aware of any of these fine features of the village--i was there to take pictures and get another pint!

after the pint i was pretty spent. back to the B+B with me, where i basically waited an hour or so before going to bed, because i didn't want to be waking up at 6 in the morning the next day. i had a tentative plan to go into Dingle town somehow--maybe i'd hitchhike, maybe i'd get a taxi--i wasn't sure. all i was sure of was that i was going to sleep very well that night and wake up the next day to get this rip fully underway!

an céad lá--Friday, August 10--the herding

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Sun, 09 Sep 2007 15:21:00 +0000

So often these days you hear that travel, especially by plane, is more difficult than its been in years--for obvious reasons. Since 9-11, the airline industry has had to cut back services due to reduced demand. now, however, it seems that people are becoming bold again, since no major atacks have happened here on american soil, i suppose, and the demand for service has increased faster than the airlines can provide it. just one reason, i suppose, that delays at airports are the worst in 17 years or so, at least thats what i heard on NPR. i'm sure the weather has alot to do with it at times as well. al lthis was in my mind as we drove to the airport about 4 hours before my flight. My sister Sarah drove me, and my girfriend, partner, best friend, whatever you wish, came along to see me off safely. i was nervous as hell!

that day the weather was not cooperative. it was cloudy, rainy, and visibility was low. i left from Boston Logan airport. my flight was scheduled to leave at 4:35pm. i was to catch a connecton at JFK at 6:something pm, to arrive in Ireland at about 9 in the morning local time. very good on paper. very clear.

so they anticipated that my flight may be delayed and i might miss my connection, so they put me on standby for an earlier flight so that even if the standby flight was delayed it might be in JFK on time for me to connect. so i waited. that flight WAS delayed, of course. but inexperienced traveler that i am, i kept waiting even though i should have been going to the other gate to get my original flight! which actually boarded on time! if i hadn't heard the final boarding call for my original flight, i would have been in Boston Logan airport to this day. i'm sure of that. especially in light of what happened on my return flight. but that's another story.

so i ran.

i wasn't carrying much. just a backpack--not too heavy. so that wasn't the reason i nearly had a bleeding heart attack when i finally got to the proper gate. no. i was out of shape. waking up your heart and lungs with a quarter mile sprint through an airport carrying a backpack isn't really recomended by doctors as the best way to start an exerise regimen--and that for a reason i reckon.

in any case when i finally stumbled into the right gate, i whisked myself onto the plane, and plopped into my seat panting and shaking, desperate for water. no sooner had i sat down when i heard the flight attendant announce that there was to be a further 2 hour delay. excellent. and that we all should get of the plane if we were making connections, because there would be representatives waiting for us at the gate to help us figure out how we were going to work it all out. which basically meant that i had to get out of the plane and stand in a huge line while the clock ticked off the time to my flight from JFK to Shannon.

in spite of my mood at that time, i was having a pleasant conversation with the man behind me in line--a frequent flier who seemed not to be too worried at the prospect of spending the night in a crappy Delta-provided hotel in Boston. whereas i--i was pissed. i spent the whole summer working out the details of my trip! i got a bus ticket online from Shannon to Dingle for the next day. i booked my accomodation 2 months in advance! everyting was arranged, god dammit! this wasnt fair.

well the next thing i knew we were all being herded into the plane again. baa baa. moo moo. the flight to JFK was to be 45 minutes. my flight to Shannon left in about an hour.

we got to JFK just in time for me so jog, not sprint, to my gate and get directly on the plane. the original sprint must have done me some good because the palpitations weren't nearly as severe this time around. and international flights generally leave on time, or so i hear. and so we did.

the flight. if i wasn't nervous enough about missing my flight, i was terrified of the flight itself. i hate flying. at least i did at the time. the flights themselves were pretty good, so i think i have a better idea of what kind of turbulence is ok. i think the worst thing about the flight was that i was already braindead from all the hassle in the airport, and it was night, and i was tired but so nervous that i knew i wouldn't sleep. because if i sleep on a plane, the plane will crash. after all, it's my will that keeps all the planes in the air. it's not physics. its me. staying awake. keeping everyone safe.

no need to thank me.

i took melatonin to try to put me to sleep, which works great here a home. i'm out in about a half hour when i take a pill. different story on the plane. for one thing, you're not in your bed on a plane. i think they should create a "Sleeping Class" in addition to first and coach, because i think it would be very popular. also, there's all kinds of stuff going on in the cabin--food being served (thank GOD for that!!!), movies flashing on multiple screens, people noises, plane noises, flight attendants joking and getting to know each other, or catching up on travel stories--all sorts of distractions. at least i had a row of three seats to myself, right at the back of the plane, so i guess i had the most peaceful spot possible, not counting the fact that the food prep area and the flight attendant break area are right there as well. so i got to know them sort of vicariously. i wonder how they're doing...

anyway the melatonin didn't work. i dozed but didn't sleep. i read alot--nearly finished the book "The Amber Spyglass" by Phillip Pullman--part of the "His Dark Materials" sequence. (http://www.randomhouse.com/features/pullman/) The first book, "The Golden Compass," is coming out as a movie this Christmas. Look for it in theaters near you. The movie they played on the plane really sucked. and it wasn't just that i didn't have the sound on. i tried watching it for a while with the sound on, and it really really sucked. some cheezy murder mysery with tacky cinematography.

that brings me to Ireland and the next day of my journey, which i guarantee will be just as exciting as the first! tune in next time for my bus ride, Tigh Bhric and my first pint of Guinness in Ireland. Sweet.

From my journal...

8-10-07, JFK
Jesus—ní féidir liom na heachtraí a tharla dom a mhíniú. Ar dtús—bhíos ar feitheamh (standby?) ar éitlt uimhir a 5513, cé go raibh an fíor éitilt agam uimhir a 697, nó pé rud. Agus 5514 ag an ngeata 14. rinne mé dearmad dul go geata 14 ag an am a ba chóir. Agus ba bheag nár cailleas an éitleán agus bhí sé déanach goleor leis! Thángas go dtí an aerfort go díreach, agus iad ag ligeant na daoine ar an eitleán. Anois, mé m' shuí i ndeireadh an eitleán, ag tnúth go mór mór go dtí go bhfuil an turas thart.

Tá súil agam go mainfaimid Éire amach go sabháilte!

an lá dár gcionn...
...beagnach in Éirinn. Beimid ag teacht i dtír i níos lú ná uair a chloig.

...tá pían, AN-phían, im' thóin. Tá sé briste!

Uh oh, turbulence. Is fuath liom suaiteacht.

Níor chodailmé ach cúpla néal—so, tuirse orm. Ach, tá m'fhiacla scuaibthe agus braon caife ólta agam.

Uh oh, tuilleadh suaiteachta...

agus b'shin a méid go dtí an dara lá déag den mhí...slán go fóill!

welcome to ya...

noreply@blogger.com (mark bodah) — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 20:39:00 +0000

"Coicís in Éirinn" --a fortnight in Ireland. two weeks for you american speakers out there.

i recently went to Ireland for about 2 weeks and i intend this blog to be sort of a post-event travelogue based on a journal i kept while i was there. lots of photos too. check out http://s240.photobucket.com/albums/ff20/fearfeasog/ for 80 some-odd of the couple hundred i took. i'll probably refer to them as i write, and post some within the blog as well--just to make it look interesting.

going to ireland was an amazing treat. i worked my ass off all summer (thanks for putting up with THAT, Steph! xox!) and made enough money to live more or less like a king. B + B style. ate out every meal. bought books and CD's. rented a bike. the only thing i didn't do was rent a car. or buy a house. though i would love to buy a house in Ireland!

anyway. i hope you enjoy reading about my trip as much as i enjoyed living it. i'm sad it's over but i won't soon forget it! i want to give a hearty anerican-style howdy to Fergal, Patricia, Sinéad and Elaine, members of the gang i hung out with during the better part of my trip. there were others as well, and i'll mention them as i go along. do bhaineas an-sult as bhur gcomhlúadar agus tá súil agam go ndeachaidh sibh abhaile go sabháilte. cífidh mé sibh an bhliain seo chugainn--geallaim daoibh!

slán go fóillín!

mark