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Published: June 19th 2009
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Ireland surprised me with their version of summer and immediately I was sent shopping for socks and warm clothes. There tongue in check humor quickly warmed me over as I passed a door store called, "Knobs and Knockers." So it is with relaxing thoughts that I nestled into a pub with a pint and a book.
I hadn't really thought much about Ireland. I started this trip with the simple idea of chilling out in a one pub town and checking out the Cliffs of Moher. My mind sometimes comes up with ideas that I just can't seem to let go. Due to the numerous bus, plane, train and boat rides over the past months, I have had a lot of time to read. I didn't necessarily have a choice in what I read, but I was always able to procure a book or two as needed. For some inexplicable reason, Dick Francis appears to be a universal author whose books appeared in nearly every second hand shop I was in. Dick Francis writes books that revolve around horse racing which is apparently very serious in England and Ireland. As I became quite addicted to his books, I decided that
My Horse
My horse decisively took last place with no one else in contention I was going to follow the races around Ireland for a bit. Never mind the fact that I know nothing about horse racing and my gambling record has proven that I am better off doing other things with my time.
The races that I went to were wonderful. They were outside of the towns or cities providing a beautiful backdrop to the races. Rolling hillsides, small unassuming grandstands, and close proximity to the horses and activities around the track were the norm. The tracks were alarming to me in that they weren't oval. They wound around the countryside going around bushes and trees. They also were not flat and sadly for the horses this usually meant an uphill sprint to the finish line.
While it was wonderful to spend my evenings (and a bit of money) in the gorgeous Irish countryside and to marvel at the strength and ability of both horse and jockey, I was more impressed with the bookies and the punters.
Dressed in typical Irish tweed, gray and white haired men closely huddled together to discuss their betting plans. Carefully they read their race programs and like vultures they circled around the bookmakers waiting
Punters
Place your bets. for their moment to pounce. Slowly the minutes to race time dwindled. The tension rose and decisions were solidified. A bookie suddenly yells out the latest odds on a certain horse and the punters immediately jump to the queue hoping to get their last minute gamble on.
This added entertainment of bookies and punters made it very difficult to take in all the happenings in between the races. I had to run to the winners circle to pay my respects to horse and jockeys (and to see what it feels like to be taller than a large number of people). I also had to inspect the upcoming race horses so I could be a proper punter and not one of those fools who throw away their money. And then there was the best dressed competition to follow closely. Somehow, I was not nominated as a finalist for best dressed male. It must have been the fact that I was a foreigner or the fact that I was the only person wearing synthetic fibers at the track. Must update my tweed collection for future competitions.
After a few evenings of less than stellar results, I left the races a
Galway Hooker
I wasn't making it up. little poorer and in need of a pick me up. So I figured I would head to Galway and relax with a few hookers. Hookers is the local beer of Galway City.
While touring the Guinness factory in Dublin, I was informed by a fellow visitor that none of Ireland's big beer companies (Guinness, Murphy's and Beamish & Crawford) are actually Irish owned any more. I found this odd considering the rich Irish heritage revolving around the drink. When I read up on it a bit, I found out that the visitor spoke the truth, and I learned that micro-breweries were starting to make headway in Ireland. Galway City had the largest and most successful of the little breweries so I went there.
Galway is extremely proud of their Hookers. The brewery opened up the naming of the ale to the city and it came back in favor of naming the beer after their famous boats - the Galway Hooker.
The Galway sessions were taking place while I was there as well. Galway is apparently known for its music as well as its hookers. There were street musicians everywhere. The music was well diversified with anything from
Trad Session
Fiddling Away arias; to Irish folk cover bands, to violin solos. The street talent was also as varied as the music.
The sessions took place throughout the city. The music tended to be indie rock or traditional Irish music with fiddle and bodhran. I find it strange how Irish music swings from festive fast pitched blow outs to melodic instrumentals and downright tearful solos. It all seems to find its place in the course of an evening in Ireland.
With the sessions still going strong, I departed Galway and went south towards the Cliffs of Moher. My one pub town vision didn't actually become reality as Doolin has four actual pubs although three of them or on the "outskirts" of town. The proximity to the cliffs, as well as the added bonus of a homemade fudge shop, more than made up for the extra pubs in the area.
Doolin is a tourist town but it still manages to retain its charm as it sits peacefully along the Allie River looking out toward the Aran Islands of sweater fame.
With little to do aside from taking a wander or biking through the Burren, there was plenty of time to
Cheers
It's the end of the road for me. just sit and enjoy life. Typical Irish weather meant lots of time to read and have a pint or two or three as you waited at this hour’s storm. While reading, I realized how soon my trip was going to end. I decided to make one final push and to head out to the Aran Islands.
Sadly that Irish weather had other ideas. Apparently it wanted to keep me in Doolin. I enjoy the fact that I will leave the trip with something still to be desired. So on that note, I happily entered into Gus O’Connor’s Pub for one last evening of the fiddle and a one more pint for the road.
Cheers everyone, I am heading home.
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Tami
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We can't wait until you come home!! Josh and I are literally counting the days. Is it wrong that we've set up cots in your house and have a week's worth of clothes ready?