Like father, like daughter

Hey everybody. So jeez, it's definitely about time I get this posted. So as many of you know my old man came to visit for a little over a week and half and boy did we have ourselves a good time! I tell you, Dad and I make quite the pair indeed. So, I'll get right to it. Dad arrived in Dublin after 35 hours of being in air and in airports (he really does show the love doesn't he?) and after a few hugs and good ole smiles we headed into Dublin for a pint of genuine silky Guinness, which Dad had a hurtin' for. After the splendid pint (and the first one Dad and I have EVER shared) we came on back to the homestead. After showing Dad a bit of Maynooth and the campus we hit the road for Dingle! We went out on a limb and just hoped to find a place to stay when we got there. And boy was fate on our side. I tell you, ever since we had gotten together things were just going perfectly. So we checked in at the first b&b we tried, wandered around the town a bit where we ran into some characters right from the start. We found ourselves a tiny local record shop blarring some irish tunes, so of course we were drawn in. There we met Mazz. Now, Mazz was quite the gal...full of stories and a few good laughs. She recommended some good sessions to get in on and after about an hour of Mazz talking and tell us jokes we got out of there. We had a high class meal made up of a few various snacks from the local corner store and headed onto the pub scene. After a few tries, O'Flaherty's was where we ended up. In the middle of a packed pub were three locals playin away. A banjo, box and bodhran. And boy were they playin'! Dad and I nestled in with Dad fixated upon the tunes and reels these guys were playin. After a few, Dad went over to see if he could play a few with them. Next thing I knew, Dad had a stool, his flute and a mic...some thought he was a local! Man, I gotta tell you I was so proud of him up there. It was like a dream to watch my dad play some flute in Ireland...with me drinking a pint and tappin my toe. Anyways, further into the night I met these two guys from Cork who were quite the characters. We got to talking and realized we were both doing the peninsula drive tomorrow, so they invited me and Dad to join them. I said sure! So people started trickling out and it was time for the music to stop. And like that, the owner put down his banjo and started cleaning up and putting up the chairs. So Dad and I bid farewell to my new friends from Cork and we walked on back to the b&b.

We woke up to a wonderful breakfast by Fiona (b&b owner) which set us up for quite the day. We met up with the guys from Cork and got right to driving. Oh my gosh, let me tell you - the Dingle Peninsula is absolutely gorgeous! We were blessed with a gorgeous day and some breathtaking views. Turns out Noel, one of the fellas taking us around, was like an absolute expert on Dingle. I tell you, he knew every rock and grain of sand from Dingle town around. And he told us about it too. After about three hours of a beautiful scenic drive and our personal tour guide, we were ready for some more dingle music. Again we went to O'Flaherty's where Dad was gladly greeted and immediately had a place in the circle. Another night of wonderful tunes.

Waking up it was time to see more of Ireland. It was time to meet one of Dad's friend's father who lives outside of Kilrush in County Clare. We met Michael off the ferry (where let me say I learned my very first penny whistle tune!) and drove to his beautiful home in rural Ireland. The town the O'Brien's live in has the absolute essentials for an Ireland town: a gas station and a church (what more could you want right?). We met Michael's wonderful wife Kathleen, who already had our plates out and ready. She had cooked a huge meal and had two desserts waiting in the oven. To say the least, we felt right at home from the minute we walked in. We ate the meal, but had no idea that we were about to have one of the most memorable nights following. After having another helping of pie, Michael told us that we were to go into town. I nor Dad really knew what we were doing, so we were in for a surprise. "Bring your flute Glenn...you'll be playing it." Yes! More music! We drove on one of the smallest roads to get where we were going and there wasn't a light for miles. We finally came to our destination and walked through the doors of by far the smallest pub I've ever been in. It was no bigger than my room at home. There were only old timers who greeted us with much enthusiasm. Small talk began, pints filled and after a few sips and hellos the music began. Just like that...everyone was talking and all of a sudden everyone had an instrument in their hands and knew what to do. It was glorious! The music was so rich and being so close to it all was priceless. The night got ended shortly by news of a tradegy nearby so the music ceased, but sadness is never long in Ireland for a man named Mort started up with some outrageous jokes. I'm not lying here, this man may be the funniest I've ever met. He had all of us in a roar! So the night turned out splendid and definitely one for Dad and I to write about.

We spent one more day with Michael and Kathleen and again Ireland's whisper came through us. It was time to head on and see more. We hit the road up North, stopped in a few towns Dad used to know and came across the sacred hill, Croagh Patrick. This was the mountain which Ireland's St. Patrick climbed and stayed for 40 days and 40 nights. Well, Dad and I didn't have that much time to spare so we just climbed about halfway enjoyed the views, felt the burn in our legs and went back down....sorry Patrick not this time. After a nice hike, we got back on the road and this time we ended up in Westport, which was a town both Dad and I were intrigued by. Again, we checked in to the first b&b we tried and had a fabulous night listening to the tunes of Charlie Lennon, a famous fiddler and tune writer. After spending a lovely day in Westport, again it was time to see what else there was. This time we ended up in Clifden, which Dad and I both agreed on wasn't the best town...We arrived learning that there were four pubs with traditional music and all four resulted in utter crap. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but it definitely wasn't our night for music. So instead we went back to our cosy hostel and played a few hands of cards.

It was coming close to having to go on back to the east side, so we decided to take a route back through Galway and Connemara and eventually towards home and just see if anything called to us. If it did, we would stop and stay and if it didn't, well we would keep going to Maynooth. We drove through the breathtaking hills of Connemara, stopped in a few towns, tried some b&bs but didn't work out, so we kept on going. After another stop with no luck, we weren't feeling too optimistic. But, you never know what's right around the bend. We came to this tiny town called Banagher where we decided to post up for the night. Dad and I were both starving and just wanted out of the car. So Banagher it was. While getting food we passed this pub with a sign "singing pub" and were curious so we walked in and found an old irishman with his cap to the side. We said hello and he invited us back later on when there would be loads of singing, tunes and piano. After eating a delicious meal of chinese right out of the box, we freshened up and headed down. All I can say is wow. wow. At first we were pretty hesitant on the night because after a pint there was still no singing...none. But just at our last sip, this older woman walks in, throws off her jacket and starts pounding on the piano-going into this and that song right after another. Oh jeez...this was going to be a hoot! A younger girl walked in after with a box and started jammin' right along the woman. Dad gave a wink and took his seat. They played for awhile, then someone would sing, they would play and the pattern kept going and going. What a kick! So anyway, we can definitely say that the last night of our roadtrip sure was a memorable one.

Back in Maynooth, I had classes once again but Dad hung out and was quite content. The last night we stayed in the local ritzy hotel and swam, told jokes and reminisced. Dad's final day came pretty suddenly and it was time once again to make our way out to the airport. Dad checked in with his flight, found he had some time to spare and so we had our last meal together. Nothin' like Sbarro's pizza to tie up the last day. But, I tell ya it was one of the best meals we had together. We chatted it up like crazy and I'm so happy he had that time to spare because I just wasn't ready to say bye yet. As the clock ticked, it was officially time for Dad to get moving. We threw our trays away and made the way to the security gate where we would have to say goodbye. We gave a huge hug and a couple of waves and he was gone. Gone like that. It had felt like yesterday that I was waiting at the gate for him to arrive and now I was saying good bye. But hey, we had an absolutely amazing trip together and each other's energy engrained in us once again.

Well, Dad's long gone now, and although I miss him, this trip will always be in our memory. It was truly unforgettable and I just feel so blessed that he was able to come and share this experience with me. Seeing him reminded me of so many good times in the past, the present and way more to come...I love ya Dad! :-)

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