After all, this was a trip not just decades, but generations in the making.
So what’s a couple of days between friends so that process it all.
(Thanks, pandemic!)
The way I’m always prattling on about my Irishness, you’d think I had a timeshare there.
But my brother Jimbo went and said the exchange rate kicked his ass.
To which I said, “This was supposed to be us in DUBLIN!!!”
Anyway, we actually had another trip booked with our couplesfriends we’ve traveled with quite a bit.
But that was in 2020.
(Bite me, pandemic!)
So we kicked the can down the road.
And I suppose it’s no wonder.
Weirdly enough, at Logan, Aer Lingus isn’t even in the International Terminal.
They didn’t even go through my bags.
But the basic approach to Boston-to-Shannon is “Ahh, what the hell.
They’re the same place.”
TSA treats it like you’re flying to Raleigh.
Though on the way back, Customs in Shannon did ask me if I had anything to declare.
Then I showed him the whiskey I bought at the Duty Free, to avoid an international incident.
Of course, that might be because for the most part, we avoided the major tourist areas.
No one on the trip wanted to drive.
And with good reason.
I’ve known plenty of people who’ve gone to the British Isles and rented a car.
Think Clark Griswold in European Vacation, stuck in the roundabout, unable to escape.
(“Look kids!
There’s Big Ben!
There’s Big Ben!
Basically, to treat it like you would a flight simulator.
And it was truly hard to process.
Driving on the left is like having automotive dyslexia.
It turns a simple trip up a quiet, narrow country road into aBaby Drivergetaway sequence.
There are a lot of such craft on the river.
Every town has a marina it’s possible for you to dock at overnight, with bathrooms and showers.
The other couple we were with are experienced boaters, as is my own beloved.
And I’m good at providing ballast.
So it worked out.
Rolling hills in the background.
Contented cattle grazing in the fields.
And inspiring me to shop for steaks, ground beef and cheese.
These are all family farms.
Which frankly matters to me less than how delicious the end product is.
And I can confirm it makes a difference.
Tending to their fields and gardens by day.
Then heading to the Prancing Pony for some pints, music and conversation at night.
Tolkien was of German descent.
And the Irish probably weren’t super popular at Oxford when he was there.
Speaking of pints: There are places near me that pour a quality Guinness and places that do not.
But the Guinness on tap they have tastes like … what exactly?
Picture the best beer you’ve ever tasted.
Now blend it with your mother’s love, the tears of NY Jets fans and unicorn milk.
Then sip it out of an angel’s nipple.
That’s Guinness in Ireland.
That thing is called a widget.
And the widget came in first.
Tough luck, human flight, automobile, polio vaccine, radio, television, computer and internet.
The UK has their priorities in order.
One place we visited that positively broke my brain was Clonmacnoise.
And while much of it is ruins, there are incredible intact buildings artifacts.
It was erected in 542 AD and is still standing.
There are others from the 10th century and later.
Which somehow survived hundreds of battles between kings, rival factions, warring clans, Viking invaders.
Which in Clonmacnoise is considered temporary housing.
Because you’ve got to preserve your culture.
Someone once famously said “Anyone who wishes to understand America, must first understand baseball.”
Anyway, it seems to me that the Irish equivalent of that his hurling.
I didn’t have to be told twice.
The object is to get it into the goal if possible, for three points.
But if not, get it between the uprights for one point.
And people only cheer for the goals.
Oh, and it has the violence of hockey baked in.
So there’s something for everyone.
And it is non-stop action.
I mean full out sprints for the entire 35 minute halves.
I’m absolutely a fan.
Granted, I still don’t grasp the fine points.
I just know I will find hurling on my streaming if it kills me.
The craziest part of the sport?
Finding out that these guys don’t get paid.
They wreck themselves in front of a packed stadium of 80,000 paying customer.
Play in shirts with ads on them for traditional Irish restaurants like Papa John’s.
For real, all the money all goes to their local hurling clubs.
Just as sort of a travel guide/cultural primer.
And their swear of choice was “feck.”
Make it beBanshees of Inishiren.
Putthatreview in your ads.
The one truly touristy place we went was Galway.
I can’t cop to that, but I’d like to think I had some small influence.
Besides the packed streets, virtually every pub has live entertainment.
What is generally referred to as Trad Music, meaning traditional.
Though the tradition pretty much seems to be that of Massachusetts.
“Wild Rover” followed by “Country Roads.”
part like it’s the bottom of the 8th at Fenway.
I’ve gone on way longer than I intended.
“No one,” she said, “Goes to Ireland once.”
Right now, I have.
But I’m going to ensure she’s right.
