Around the World: Ennistymon

May 8, 1992

"You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best. I've been gone for ..." ... 5 months.

 ¤

As Richard predicted, hitch hiking is a fairly reliable way to travel.  It would probably be a little more productive if there was more traffic, but we are making progress.  In the meantime, the walking isn't unfamiliar, or all that unwelcome.  Ireland is very pretty to look at.  What we believe is heather cascades over the rolling hills and into the distance like a blanket of violet.  There's a comforting scent on the breeze, like some vaguely soothing fragrance remembered from early childhood. It's like stepping into a grandparent's house, which is pretty much where I'm headed now.  The forks of my family tree lead straight back to County Clare.  

The Emerald Isle:  It's not easy being green.

Arrived in Ennistymon, thanks to the generosity of a cube van that dropped us off almost on the doorstep of the Carrig's pub. Richard opens the front doors and introduces me to his friend, the establishment's proprietor, Terry.

Terry invites us to sit at a bench in the small pub and welcomes us each with a pint of Guinness. 

I've tried Guinness at home and wasn't a fan.  I remember it had this distinctive flavour of nasty, much like the leftover beer that was used as an ashtray.  In its defense, I'm told Guinness doesn't travel well and tastes remarkably better the closer one is to the brewery, which, incidentally, is just up the road (across the island) in Dublin. Not wanting to be rude, I bravely take a sip.

It's different.  Not nearly the nasty flavour I was expecting.  Another sip.  Yes, this is definitely drinkable.  The third sip is the clincher.  While Terry searches for a book for us to compare family history on our shared surname, I find it very easy to empty my glass.

Which is promptly refilled.

Terry asks me how the trip was from Limerick.  I answer in my best traveler's English, which is breaking the sentence down into the simplest words, minus the superfluous prepositions and adjectives with lots of charades.  Richard pokes me on the arm and quietly says, "He speaks English."

I've been communicating this way for so long, I'm not sure that I still speak English.  Fortunately, the claims that Guinness is good for you are true.  Near the bottom of my third pint, I find my grade school grammar.

The plan is to leave in a day or two to see the rest of Ireland and continue on to Scotland before returning to London and then home.  That's not what happened.  Sometimes, the best adventures are the ones that are unplanned.   

• ¤ •

"... I need home for a rest."

~Spirit of the West

Around the World: Friends in Limerick

May 6, 1992

Yesterday, I said goodbye to Jane at Heathrow, where she caught her flight back to Toronto.  I made my way back into London to make arrangements to travel to Ireland to meet my friend Richard in Limerick.

The journey began last night by bus to the west coast of England, another many long hours overnight at sea, and more hours this morning on another bus across Ireland to Limerick.  A hostel bed never looked so good.    

King John's Castle on the River Shannon, Limerick, Ireland

Richard tells me of a family friend who owns a pub on the west shores of Clare, in a little town called Ennistymon.  When I ask how we get there, he says its no bother to hitchhike.  We make plans to meet this evening with his mom, Jo, for drinks and make our way west tomorrow.

• ¤ •

"A true friend is one who thinks you are a good egg even if you are half-cracked."

~Author Unknown

 

Around the World: The Best Cure

May 2, 1992

After a long hike, Jane and I found ourselves in Camden Town.  I bought a pair of Doc Martin boots to hopefully repair my raw-like-hamburger feet.

Happily snugged into my new boots, Jane and I wisely decide to take the Underground back to Paddington station.  Nearby is Hyde Park, a beautiful place to enjoy a beer and chips.  It's not long before we are joined by our hostel room mates who quickly spread the word that yesterday was my birthday.

As daytime turns to dusk, we pack up the picnic and head back to the hostel.  One of the guys demonstrates how to make free phone calls from a pay phone.

Back in the dorm, the party continues.  Three of the guys are blowing up condoms like balloons and participating in a dare to see who can pull one over their head.  It's all very hysterical, except for the blinding headache pounding on the inside of my skull. One of the guys nonchalantly pulls out a fairly large case for a backpack.  Inside are several divided compartments containing his pharmaceutical collection.  He gives me a blue pill, which knocks me out within minutes.  When I wake up a few hours later, the party is still in full swing and my headache is gone.

I wake up just in time to participate in a rowdy game of inflated condom, bunk-bed volleyball. 

• ¤ •

"A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book."

~Irish Proverb