The good craic

Biscuit and I try to take a trip every few years around our wedding date to congratulate ourselves on continuing to put up with each other. This year we chose Ireland as our destination. Biscuit has wanted to visit the west coast of Ireland since she saw The Quiet Man as a girl, and I am all about rocks, ocean, and pubs.

We didn't want to spend the whole time in the car, and most Irish roads resemble bike paths, so it was apparent from the start that we wouldn't be able to see the whole country, compact as it is. After a ton of internet research (hers), and a few ill-informed opinions (mine), we decided on stays in Galway, Doolin, and Dingle, with a side trip to the Aran Islands and an overnight stay in Ballybunion.*

The trip was super-relaxing, I didn't hit anything in the Skoda (look it up), and I'm full up on scenery for at least a year. I will let the pictures do (most of) the rest of the talking. We took over a thousand photographs between us, and at least half of them are worth seeing. Here are some of my favorites, with a few shots thrown in for narrative purposes.

Shannon

After a surprisingly comfortable British Airways flight from Dallas to Heathrow, we caught a surprisingly uncomfortable Aer Lingus flight to Shannon, the "other airport" in Ireland. They lost my bag somewhere along the way, and by the time we finished filling out the paperwork, customs was deserted and we walked out of the airport unmolested. After a bit of a wait at the rental agency, we headed off to Galway, with me trying to remember to stay on the left side of the road.

Shannon airport from the rental agency car park. There is a Radisson hotel that is actually closer to the terminal than this, out of the frame to the right. We stayed there on our last night in Ireland. As hotels go, it was very close to the airport.

Galway

We spent our first two nights in Galway at the Park House Hotel. The hotel was well located, with private parking (which we really came to appreciate in Ireland) and helpful staff. My bag arrived about four hours after we did, so I didn't have to spend ten days in the same pants. We were asleep before it was dark both nights, awake through the middle of the night, and asleep again through the morning, which kept our time wandering the city somewhat limited. We did manage a nice drive around Connemara, and even had time to find Nora Barnacle's house.

Galway is the fourth most populous city in Ireland (75,000 and some), a college town, and a seaport since 1124. The River Corrib flows through the city and into Galway Bay.

Did I mention I like pubs? This one is across the street from John F. Kennedy Park, and served the best hamburger I have had in a while. Our hotel was across the street about halfway up the block. 

It seems about half of Ireland comes here to shop. This area between the park and the sea is restricted to foot traffic for several square blocks. I mostly bought beer. And an umbrella.

Doolin and the Burren Way

We left Galway on the third morning and drove down the coast to Doolin in County Clare. Doolin is known for traditional Irish music and is very near the Cliffs of Moher, so it's a pretty popular tourist destination. Luckily for us, the tourist season ends on October 1st, and the crowds were fast disappearing. The town consists of a harbor, three pubs and some wool-centric souvenir shops. Since it's too warm for sweaters where we live, we focused on the pubs. We enjoyed some good food, great traditional Irish music (we even tried to dance once), and the best stout I have ever tasted.

We stayed at Doll's Cottage B&B in Doolin, owned and operated by Sean O'Connor. Sean's parents Gus and Doll had owned Gus O'Connor's Pub, a fixture in town and less than a hundred yards (or "meters") from the B&B. As an itinerant chef and storyteller, Sean is an ideal host, as long as you like to listen and don't mind opinions. We had a blast, and he was very accommodating, even offering us a ride to the Cliffs of Moher to start our hike. The room was generally clean, with a few dusty spots in the corners that let you know it was the end of a long tourist season. This was common with the accommodations on our trip. I had the impression that all would be spic and span again come Spring.

For our full day in Doolin, we walked from the Cliffs (about 3 miles distant) back to Doolin village along the Burren Way. I can't begin to do justice to how simultaneously relaxing and stimulating it was. The weather was grand, and there were sheep and donkeys besides. Combined with the pub experience the night before, this had to be our favorite 24 hours of the trip.

The Cliffs of Moher, a breathtaking stretch of coastline. The combination of active erosion, strong winds, and poor survival instincts send a few people over the edge every year. The authorities finally relented and put some barriers in the most heavily trafficked sections. 

This is reputed to be the landing spot for Harry and Dumbledore in their search for a horcrux. I didn't see the cave, but I assume the entrance is concealed by magic.

O'Brien's Tower at the Cliffs of Moher. You can hardly throw a sheep in Ireland without hitting some medieval structure or ruin.

The view along the coast toward Doolin village. The village is near the center of the distant coast. The harbor is toward the left of the frame, 

In case the seaward view isn't holding your attention, this is what the other direction looks like. Biscuit and I talked a lot about what it would have been like to grow up in one of these houses.

Donkeys! You can see that they are already walking toward us, hoping for carrots, or beer or something. Also, cow butts.

Looking back along a section of the coastal path. As you can see, we have left the barricades far behind.

Doolin village. Gus O'Connor's pub is the two story building to the right of the frame. Doll's House B&B the reddish house with the bay window. I think that's Fitz's Bar at the right edge but it was always dark when we were there. And people were drinking.

The next morning we were scheduled to travel to the Aran Islands and spend the night on Inis Mór. Unfortunately, we woke to rain and tropical storm force winds, and were disappointed to learn that the ferries would not run "for at least a couple of days." It was by far the biggest disappointment of the trip, and we were left with 36 hours to fill.

Whatever would we do? Could we find something else fun to occupy our time? Would the 2 euro umbrella we bought in Galway survive? How many times would I go to the wrong side of the car before remembering it was right hand drive?

Find out in the next installment of The Good Craic! (This is getting long, and Biscuit is growing tired of me crippling our internet connection uploading gigantic pictures, so I will take up the second half later.)

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*Do you love the names of these towns, or what?

Kids are the future

This past Thursday I was privileged to evaluate fifteen or so student proposals to "deliver news to communities using social media." The contest was conducted through the Mass Communication* School, with the winning proposals receiving a cash grant, presumably to help complete the project.

I learned a few important things. First, this group of Mass Comm. students are ambitious, innovative, and as dedicated as one could reasonably expect of 20 year olds. Their proposals were generally well thought out, though they had a blind spot when it came to creating original content, or understanding why commercial entities would not be excited about someone else aggregating their original content for free.

Another thing I learned was the virtues of being able to do everything on one's phone, without ever having to look up, rely on another device, or interact directly with another person. Seriously, I heard this repeatedly, to the point that I was a little frightened. I knew that these kids relied on their phones more than old people believe can be healthy, but I didn't realize that the people shaping tomorrow's media believe heartily that this is a good thing.

Perhaps the most important thing that was confirmed for me was that reading is boring.  I heard repeatedly how tedious it was to wade through New York Times articles, long e-mails (with bullet points, no less!), or even verbose Facebook messages. A minute is entirely too long to watch a video. We should be able to put the salient points of any news story into a clip no longer than 45 seconds, and usually more like 15.

I really don't know what this means for our media future, but I know that it seems like what we see will be shorter, more immediate, and more personal than social media and smartphones have wrought to this point. Good luck, young ones.

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* What used to the Journalism School.

Just words

I feel surrounded by Death,
and the Promise of Death.

Too many dear to me have lost friends,
and mothers, sons, and fathers,
in what seems the space of an afternoon.

Others have been sentenced, and
now they wait.
And I wait with them,
counting under my breath.

I cannot help.
My cup is empty
in the face of such loss.
Their pain overwhelms me.
I fear my own weakness.

My thoughts move unbidden to places where this
much death and more is truly the work
of an afternoon. Families and friends
wiped away, each day after day.

How do they do it? How do they stand?
How can a soul face so much death and live?

Ebola, ISIS, Russian Separatists.
They are only words to me. Pictures on a screen.
But every day they deliver Death,
and the Promise of Death.

Call it tragic.
It is the Way of Things.
These are the
rules of our existence.

So, this is middle age.
Perhaps I should have taken more
risks in my youth, though I am
not sure what else I could have done.

I will recover. I will find my feet.
I will help as I can.

But it won't be today.
Today I am paralyzed by Death,
and the Promise of Death.

Image from here