Out on the wiley, windy mohers.

Last weekend, I travelled to my namesake county, County Clare. The program trip included the Trinity kids and all the ND-UCD kids. We all met at the O'Connell house at 8 am Saturday morning. After an hour bus ride, we stopped at Tyrellspass Castle for tea and scones. Yes, a CASTLE. Normal.  I've never liked scones much, but these scones made me a believer. So buttery and moist. Tea is really a miracle cure--you always feel calm and warm after drinking tea. Slowly but surely, everyone in the program is becoming an avid tea-drinker. It's pretty funny hearing boys talk about how they're dying for a cup of tea. 

We had another hour or so before we passed through Galway. On the ride west, Kevin Whelan (the O'Connell centre director) gave us a description of the areas we were driving through. Kevin is delightfully knowledgeable, but he's also very long-winded and easily distractible. It was quite the tour. As we drove through the country, peppered with houses with thatched roofs, Kevin gave us a feel for what these little towns are like. They're made up of (in his words) a "charch" a "schooool" and a "pub"--"that's all ya need." He grew up in a little town similar to the ones we passed, and it sounds like he cherished his time there. Everyone in the community knows and supports each other. He and his brothers played hurling for their parish all their lives. In a typical Kevin Whelan style, he went off on a rant about hurling--how the county league works, how they're practically professionals, the teams he hates, the teams he loves, how the men on the hurling leagues become town heros, etc.  "Cut some people in these towns, and they'll bleed hurlin." Then I think he finally recognized he had drifted a bit off topic, and he hastily let us know that we had just passed Galway bay.

Galway was beautiful. I wish we could have experienced it more fully. We never actually got out of the bus in Galway, so I had to settle for watching it fly by from the bus windows. The weather was changing every 5 minutes. One moment it was blue skies and sun, and the next we had a sudden downpour. During the clear moments, I could see that Galway Bay and the Shannon River were both full of brilliantly white little egrets--so exotic and beautiful! Whenever it rained, I got a little anxious. Being on a giant bus on tiny roads with pouring rain is not a good combination. Especially after my family's run-in with a tour bus....(for those who don't know the story: 9 years ago my family was traveling around Ireland. Our rental car faced off with a tour bus...and lost. We slid up against a cobblestone wall and were stuck in a ditch for 2 hours. Luckily we fetched the town bartender, his son, a farmer, and a tractor to tow us out).  It was odd being on the other side of the face-off. Our bus driver was very responsible though. He slowed to a near stop when he was going around curves, and always pulled over to the side to let cars drive past him. Good boy.

Then we stopped in Ballyvaughan for lunch--there was a lovely little fruit market that did the trick. It was pouring the whole time we were there. Kevin felt a bit depressed about the weather, and he thought that such heavy rains might get in the way of our hike. Luckily, the weather was looking out for us. It was clear skies by the time we arrived at the Burren. The Burren is this huge area covered in limestone that stretches across Northern Clare into County Galway. Apparently the rocks were shaped by ancient seas, then shifting tectonic plates made the ground break, resulting in thousands of "grikes"--huge gaps between the limestone rocks running perfectly parallel to one another. Most of the fissures run north/south, but some lay east/west, making a mysterious grid on the earth. I never knew a place could be so desolate and so beautiful at the same time. Our tour guide, Brendan, is an expert of the Burren. He knows every flower, every fissure, every type of limestone. In fact, he's working on this huge government project that is trying to allow farmers to work the land in the Burren again.

 

Brendan told us SO MUCH about the Burren (for example, the yarrow flower cures arthritis AND, if a young woman places a yarrow under her pillow, she will dream of her future husband. Pretty nifty)--but I can hardly remember any of it. I kept getting distracted by the magnificent scenery. It was a gray, mysterious, windy day...perfect conditions for the scenery. Here we were, hiking (and i mean HIKING. It was STEEP) around a 5,000+ year old landscape. The monuments, fences, tombs, and shelters that were built on this rock are genius. The most fascinating figures in the burren, however, were the hundreds of limestone arches laying on the ground. Apparently (this is kind of gross), farmers would stuff the arches with dung-pats, then cover the arches with grass to keep it warm over the winter. The wind would rush through the cracks in the arches, making the dung-pats stick together and dry out. When the spring came, the farmers would burn the dung-pats to make fuel. GENIUS. The technology in the Burren is really mind-blowing. Because the rocks are such odd, pointy shapes, the fences and tombs they made have held sturdy against the sea's mighty wind for thousands and thousands of years. Having Brendan there made me appreciate it so much more than I would have otherwise. I would have just thought it was a pretty thing to look at. Knowing the history made it such a rich experience.

My favorite moment was near the end of our visit to the Burren. We had just taken a group picture in an old fort. We were rowdy and exhausted and about to head back to the bus. Kevin stepped in and asked us to have a minute of silence to soak it all in. "Look at the person next to you. Look around you. Look where you're standing. Let it wash over you. Feel the wind, smell the sea, hear the birds chirping. You are a part of history." A few people giggled at first but eventually everyone did as they were told. Thank goodness Kevin had us do that--I will always remember that moment. The rocks that stretched on for miles, the sea ahead of us, the wind blowing...it was really spectacular. We all had huge smiles on our faces by the end of the silent moment.

Hopping onto the bus, Kevin pulled me aside and said "You look so bleedin Irish out there, really, I can't believe how Irish you look." I liked feeling Irish. And it was a treat being in MY county. When they were describing the traits of county Clare, I felt proud that I shared the same name as the county--the people of Clare are known to be the friendliest, most vibrant people in Ireland. Kevin told us that the people of Clare have such a great life to them, and they show that through their amazing spirit, dancing, and music. There are over 800 (WOW) people in county Clare making a living playing traditional Irish music. What an incredible place to share my name with! All day, when Kevin or Eimear uttered the name Clare, I fell more and more in love with my name. I've always thought my name was pretty, but I didn't think much about it. I liked my middle name more. But this last weekend convinced me. The Irish say Clare in the most beautiful way. They hit the "C" hard, as if they were saying "kite," letting out a little breath with it. Then they extend the "a", and give the "r" a wonderful roundness. "Clahrrre." I love it.

Then, if we hadn't had enough rugged beauty for one day, we were off the the cliffs of Moher. I've been before with my parents, so I had walked on the little path close to the edge before. But no way was Notre Dame going to allow that sort of behavior. We had to stay a good 10-15 feet away from the edge, behind a wall. To ensure we followed their instructions, they told us horror stories of tourists being blown off the cliffs every year.

The coolest guy you will ever meet. Kevin Whelan, everybody. 

Before we left the gorgeous cliffs, we (groan...) sang the ND fight song. It was the ND Michigan game that day, so I understood the desire to sing it, but COME ON folks, we're in IRELAND. The other people on the cliffs stood and watched us with bemused looks on their faces. But they looked a little confused when some of us started cheering "Goooooo Irish..."

The Cliffs

Then we raced to mass at St. Patrick's church in a little town called Fanore (different than Kilfenora, momma). A little seaside town where every SINGLE person goes to church on saturday nights. Many came in a bit late, but soon every seat was filled and people had to stand in the back. There was a visiting priest from Tipperary that evening, and he had the most stereotypical leprechaun-y Irish accent I'd ever heard! He gave a beautiful sermon. I think I'll go to mass more often while I'm in Ireland. It was so different than the preachy sermons I tend to hear in America. There was no silly hand holding. There was no wandering, tuneless, droaning songs. There was just a priest, sharing a struggle from his past with us, explaining how he got through it. Explaining the power of forgiveness, the ability to let things go. He was like a therapist. It was so calming, so simple, so refreshing. Then, at the closing of mass, he said that he got the feeling that Fanore was hosting some visitors, and everyone in the church chuckled. He said he could tell that we were all American since we were grinning from ear to ear (apparently Irish people never smile!!??!). He chatted with us all for a moment or two and led a prayer for our year of studies and for our travels.

Then on to the Hylands Burren Hotel in Ballyvaughan where we enjoyed a three course meal (my meal consisted of seafood chowder, sirloin steak, and Baileys cheesecake...Notre Dame certainly treats ya right!). We raced through dinner and hurried to a local pub where we hoped to bribe them into playing the U of M vs. ND game. 40 people buying 40 pints can be pretty convincing. It was a fun night, all of us packed into the pub cheering like crazy. The few Irish people that were there looked so confused (and amused) by our screaming. One Irish guy exclaimed--"What's a "down?" How the feck is this game played? They could be speakin feckin Russian for all I know..." He decided to just cheer, with vigor, whenever the rest of us cheered. At the end of the third quarter, we all realized we didn't have McCarthy of the Indiana State Police to read the glorious safe-driving pun. So Stevie Biddle and my friend Caroline and I developed one of our own and Stevie played the part of McCarthy. "Blah blah blah safe drinking, safe driving. AND REMEMBER...if you play with fire in pubs, you might get BURRENED."  The pub went wild. We are big losers.

Day 2 in County Clare was no less fantastic. After an Irish breakfast at the hotel, we headed to Doolin to catch a ferry. Doolin was hosting their annual matchmakin festival, where all the old bachelors in the village hope to finally find their wife. Score! Kevin tried to convince us all to attend. We politely declined. On the way, we got caught in a major (MAJOR) traffic jam--an entire village was headed to church. It took us nearly 20 minutes to drive 20 yards. Only in a little village in Ireland could CHURCH cause a traffic jam. Here's the situation: Our giant bus had to make a sharp turn RIGHT next to a church. There were about 40 cars parked on the side of the tiny road. There were about 60 people and their children streaming into the church, walking right in the middle of the road. And there were 5 old men and woman that didn't know how to drive heading right at us. Due to parallel parkers, the road had become, essentially, a one way street. These people were playing chicken with our bus. Due to a few stubborn/confused old men that didn't know how to reverse, the lineup of cars grew from 4 or 5 to almost 30.

Chaos

Kevin and Mick had to hop out and explain the situation to every single car (starting with the ones farthest away). Apparently, all these cars didn't see the bus!?!? Slowly but surely, 30 cars reversed, and 30 cars parallel parked along the side of the road. Eimear and I couldn't stop laughing. She said even SHE had never experienced a traffic jam like this before. It was right out of a tv show.  Anyways, we finally got through.

Medieval Underground Church and graveyard

We took a ferry to Inis Oirr, one of the Aran Islands (I don't think it is THE craggy island, but I think shots of the island were used in the infamous Father Ted episodes...). Unfortunately the waves weren't too kind to us that morning, and there were quite a few that got seasick in our group. We hiked around the island with Michael Gibbons (Mick) and got a fabulous history of the medieval O'Brien castle, a shipwreck, and graveyard, an underground church....the list goes on an on. I love having such knowledgeable tour guides. Caroline said the scenery reminded her of Maine in some ways--a very rugged, gray, mysterious beauty. Hearing all the history of the O'Brien kingdom and the farmers that once lived there increased the island's mystery even more.

O'Brien Castle and farmer's plots

We took a ferry to the base of the cliffs of Moher and got to check out the cliffs from the other side. Spectacular. A lot of people took dramamine before they hopped onto that ferry again, so there were some drowsy, though less-seasick, travelers. For some reason the waves didn't bother me much. In fact, I was in the very front of the ferry for the first half of the ride with Stevie, Caroline, Walker, and Maisie. Once the waves got more and more threatening (and we all were soaking wet), I had to seek shelter in the slightly-more-calm back of the ferry. I have to admit, I was thankful when I stepped back onto solid ground once more. Completely exhausted and invigorated, we headed back to good old Dublin.

I was hoping this would be a shorter entry than last time, but obviously I failed. There's just too much to write about! My mom may be the only one that reads every word of this...but I'm ok with that. The past three days haven't been quite as exciting, so maybe my entires will become more tame with time. Maybe.

Cheers,
Clare Mairead