Category: visiting County Mayo Ireland

Happy Christmas

vivaespanamovingtospain

Its Christmas Eve in County Mayo on the banks of Lough Conn (Loch Conn). Our home for the holiday this year is cold and drafty. Jeff has headed out for more fuel and I’m wrapped in a new wool blanket from the local Foxford Woolen mill.

Jeff and I went into the village to visit the local Lidl and get some last minute supplies. Nothing will be open tomorrow or the 26th, as its St. Stephens Day here. No Boxing Day in Ireland. So the village was packed with cars, shoppers and the local outdoor market taking up all the parking at the Tesco. Madness.

The woman at the local Supermarket asked if I was ‘home visiting your parents.’ I was a little confused.

‘Well, it’s pretty clear you’re Irish. You have the look.’ She gestered to Jeff, ‘He’s not Irish.’

When I told her that he has some Irish but mostly Norweigien she shrugged.

‘Yup. It’s the height and the tan gives’em away.’

Jeff looked surprised.

‘Well, at least you came back during the good weather. So mild this year.’

I had no idea what she could be talking about. It’s 4c outside. Spitting rain and fog so thick we could barely drive. If this is ‘good’ I’d hate to see what ‘bad’ looks like.

When I was little, my grandpa used to tell me I had the ‘map of Ireland’ written on my face. But he also used to tease me that each of my million freckles were a kiss from a different boy. So there you go. I was 8, so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t implying anything untoward.

Before the holiday I got back edits & suggestions for my novel from my editor in the UK. She said ‘You’re a very talented story teller. This book will sell if we can shape it.’ Then she gave me about 10,000 edits and asked me to cut 30k words so believe me when I say my ego isn’t growing any bigger. But being in Ireland has opened my eyes as to how I came to be what I am.

I’ve always felt a little strange in the world. Not like normal people in the area where I grew up. I will use 10 words to answer a question when others will use 2 or 3. But go into any shop, pub, or asking directions from a policeman here, and its clear that prolific story telling is in the DNA.

And laughter. They laugh here alot, and smile while walking down the street. Greeting strangers as friends. We’ve been wished a Happy Christmas by countless people. They don’t seem to know the meaning of ‘Seasonal Effective Disorder’ even with all the clouds and rain. So I am how I am because of my genes. I’ve just got too damned much Irish in me! It can’t be helped.

And I know it’s not just in this area. Yesterday, we ventured down to Westport (see the pics). Its a lovely little town south of here about halfway to Galway. I wanted to see where the legendary pirate and first/last female chieftain of an Irish clan, Grace O’Malley, was born/based in the 1500’s. The woman had big brass ones and I feel a strange kinship to her. But the people of Westport are like that too. Smiley and open-hearted.

So, as I sit here this Christmas Eve listening to actual cows lowing in the fields next door; stoking a coal and peat fire under my wool shawl, I think I’ve landed in a country where the general population gets me. And I totally get them – even if I struggle at times to understand the lingo. I’d say this year I have alot to be grateful for.

Happy Christmas, everyone. From our family to yours. I hope you are enjoying a warm fire and are surrounded by people who appreciate and celebrate all that you are. And like me, no matter how strange that may be. Cheers!

Wild Ireland – Getting Schooled

vivaespanamovingtospain

Yesterday, Emilie set the agenda. We started the day at Balleek Castle in Ballina. It was built nearly 2 centuries ago and was the seat if the Earls of Arran, the Gore family.

We ate at the Jack Renn cafe there. A hearty lunch in their remodeled stables. Then we took the tour. Balleek is now a hotel and one of the top wedding venues in the country. Along with awards for its multiple restaurants. Really stunning place and excellent food.

Then we got schooled on some Irish history. The Earldom was created by the British crown, who awarded these estates in Ireland to those who served them well in foreign wars. Ireland belonged to the UK for centuries until Irish independence in 1949. I’m more than a little bit Irish and had no idea that, while Ireland ruled itself from 1922, it wasn’t a formal independent country until after WW2.

I think our tour guide was surprised we knew so little of Irish history (but that’s what we were there for) and since we were the only people on the tour she digressed for us.

The potato blight caused a potato crop failure (one of many) in the 1840’s. But it wasn’t the potato that caused the mass starvation of the country and tens of thousands to die. It was the English policies of absentee landlords and ‘middlemen’ who oversaw in their absence that did it. The Irish were essentially enslaved by landlords, holding no rights to own land, vote, hold public office. They couldn’t own homes or real property of any kind because they were Catholic and the Anglo-Irish were protestants.

Landowners had vast estates and were not in country most of the time. Much of the time, the middlemen ran things by leasing vast tracks of land from the owner and breaking it up to lease to workers for less than subsistence farming. It was essentially slavery.

Nearly everything raised went to the landowner who shipped the grain, potatoes – whatever crop – out of the country to sell at a higher price. During the famine, grain could have been brought in to feed the starting but the English Corn laws prevented it.

As a capper, the Irish weren’t even allowed to fish in rivers, lakes or streams to survive. The landowners owned all the game, in water or land. Getting caught poaching meant jail, hanging or being sent to a penal colony in Australia or the US. These were people denied basic education, no medical care, horrific living conditions and discrimination and abuse in their own country by occupiers who stole their livelihoods.

The only reason Balleek Castle wasn’t burned to the ground during subsequent revolts was that the Earls had helped the people during the ‘Terrible Times’. So while it was on the list the people stopped its demolition. But the formation and success of The Land League – when the Irish farmers could purchase their holdings in the late 19th and early 20th centuries – spelled demise for estates like Balleek. Without income, they were sold to new $$.

In the case of Balleek Castle, a man who had made his fortune on the sea bought the castle. He was born Jack Renn, but had purchased papers in America from a man called Marshall Doran that gave him Irish citizenship. His family owns and operates the castle today. I won’t go into all the details of it but it’s pretty cool. Parts from an old Abbey on the site. Reclaimed wood from Spanish galleons wrecked on the coast, Flemish tapestries. Stunning. Here are some pics.

After Balleek, we headed up to the bay to meander along the coast. Its dotted with the ruins of several old abbeys that look out to sea. Very spooky and very cool.

On the way to our final destination of the day, Downpatrick Head, we had to stop for some cattle herding rather suddenly.

Then on to Downpatrick Head on the Atlantic Ocean. It is truly stunning country side The headland has blow holes where the sea is undermining the cliffs.

The walk up to the head over heath (peat) was interesting. Squishy. It’s an enterprising people who figured out they could cut it, take 9 months to dry it out, 3 months to dry it indoors. Then burn it. The fire starter guy at Balleek educated me on the process. In the pics you can see how an over zealous sheep dug into it.

Breathtaking standing out there. A little scary too. Jeff shouted at me for venturing too close to the edge.

There are rocks laid into the peat. The number 64 and the words EIRE are clearly spelled out. My seatmate on our flight from Valencia told me about these. Ireland was neutral in WW2. These markings were to tell German bombers they were over Ireland, not the UK, if they veared off course. Remember Northern Ireland was, and is, still part of the UK back then. I hadn’t expected to see what he told me about on the flight. Funny how life works out.

On the way home, with coal, fire starters and kindling (and an impromptu lesson from the Balleek Castle firestarter guy on how to best start and keep a ‘turf and coal firing burning) we headed home, greeting our neighborhood donkeys in the process.

I feel a bit more connected to my Irish roots than I did when we woke up today. It feels good to know some of the people in my family were those who were tenacious in overcoming ferocious hardships here, and discrimination to make it to a new country. I’ll be raising a glass to the Hallaran side (who hail from just south of here) in our next toddle down to the pub. Well done, Emilie, on being our researcher and tour guide.