Return to the Homeland - Limerick, Ireland

---

We landed at Shannon airport a little before 7am, in the pitch black of night. After being whisked through immigration (beats the pants off the line at Dulles, and Eric’s mom was greeted with a “welcome home” by the immigration official), we were met by Uncle Jack. Eric’s mother’s sister, Aunt Theresa and her husband Jack, live in Limerick, about a twenty minute drive from the airport. This is our third trip to visit Theresa, Jack, and their family. At this point in our journey around the world we were thrilled to be visiting family - a warm bed and home cooked food. We have visited Ireland twice before and this trip was not meant to be a touring trip, so this entry will not discuss the Guinness brewery, the Blarney Stone, the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren or the Dingle Peninsula. We have seen it all before. This stay was for family.

Most of our week was spent eating, starting each morning with fresh baked bread and creamy Irish butter. Jack retired from his bread delivery business at the end of 2009. For the first time in 43 years Theresa needed to buy bread, and we ate her out of house and home. Where she once had her bread for free, she found herself buying three loafs of bread a day to feed the brood at her house. She was buying traditional brown bread, sliced white sandwich bread, and my favorite, a white cottage loaf - with each piece fresh sliced nice and thick. I would slather on the butter and a sweet raspberry preserve. Tasty.

I drank several cups of tea each day. If I arrived about twenty minutes late to the breakfast table I was told the tea was stale and Theresa insisted on making a fresh pot. I ensured her that so long as it was not Lipton brand, it was fine enough for the Yank. We were greeted the first morning with Theresa’s traditional Irish fry - fried eggs, Irish sausage, rashers (a type of thick, ham like bacon), and white and black pudding. The white pudding has some sort of grain in it, stuffed into a sausage lining. It is sliced and fried in a pan. The black pudding is similar, but is made with blood and grain. The two sausages are my favorite; well that plus the sausage and rashers. I loved it all. I could have died and gone to heaven right after that meal. Several days during the week we had some combination of tea, fresh bread, and sausages.

Our home cooked meals included fresh ham, cabbage, and mashed potatoes and a Sunday roast beef dinner for Eric’s mom’s birthday. The roast was served with roasted potatoes, carrots, peas, and gravy. We tried to learn the secret to the roasted potatoes, which had a lovely crispiness on the outside. We were lucky enough to be in Limerick for two Sunday night family dinners, when Theresa’s children, Linda and Steph, come by with their families. There were roasts each night. The last Sunday dinner included a fairly heated debate on which of the roasts was pork and which was ham, to which Eric tried to settle the debate - they are both pork and are both delicious. We had roasted pork with mashed potatoes and mashed turnips (sometimes referred to as rutabaga) with gravy. I found out that Theresa buys her potatoes in ten kilo bags; you could carry a large child in the bag. I was not surprised, though, considering we had potatoes with each meal.

We had a few breaks from the traditional Irish food. One night, Eric made his homemade meat balls and Mario Batali basic red sauce. It was a night off for Theresa and a way for Eric to repay the generosity of the family. He made so much that Jack and Theresa had leftovers for another week of meals. We also ate some chicken curry at Steph’s and a mix of traditional and “ethnic” foods including curried potatoes and spicy beef stir fry and Linda’s. Our little treat to ourselves - Indian. Two days we walked into town, in the cold weather, to seek out some Indian food. We were not disappointed. We found a place with a lunch special with an appetizer, curry dish, rice, and nan. We were thrilled. It even came with a free ice cold pitcher of water, a rarity outside of the US. The spicy lamb dishes and tender chicken hit the spot.

Irish Nights Out

After taking a very long nap on arrival, and eating cabbage for dinner, we arranged to meet Eric’s cousin, Steph, and her husband Allan, out on the town. We met them at Nancy Blake’s in Limerick city (“town”). Years ago a smoking ban was placed on bars in Ireland. Since then, bars have come up with ways around the ban, which usually include placing large heaters outside for smokers. Nancy Blake’s is a bar set between two buildings, one being the Outback Bar. The result is that outside of the Outback Bar is a covered alley with heaters. There is a roof. It feels cold like outside. And, smoking is allowed. I did not dress for the occasion, wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and my new jacket, no scarf. I survived, but it was tough drinking my cold Guinness without my gloves - making me immediately labeled a Yank. I also immediately started to smell like smoke, even my brand new jacket. We met about a dozen of Steph’s friends, some of whom came in from County Mayo and London. After a bit there, we did some pub hopping - The Still House and Micky Martin’s. It seemed that as soon as I was about a quarter done with my pint, I was being herded to another pub. At The Still House, I was prodded to leave while I was talking to a stranger at the bar. He warned me, considering I am a bloody Yank, not to try to keep up with the Irish and their drinking. I told them my full maiden name - Amber Siobhaun O’Malley, and he felt a little better about my drinking ability. By the time we hit the next bar, Costello’s, which was a pub downstairs and a cheesy dance bar upstairs, Eric and I were the most sober there. My one rule for drinking with the Irish is no Red Bull. We first saw the Red Bull craze in Ireland, before it hit the US, over a decade ago. I hate the stuff; can’t stand the smell. Towards the end of the night, Allan bought us some drinks. I don’t know what was in them. It was possibly some combination of energy drink, like a Red Bull, vodka, and more. Who knows? He was on notice from that point on, though, “Allan - no Red Bull.”

At closing time, we made our way back to Steph’s friend’s house, where I switched to water while most of the others continued their drinking. Steph picked up a Heineken, but eventually fell asleep on an arm chair. I felt like the party pooper when I told the generous host, Clare, that I thought we should call a cab. It was quarter to 5am. I was not terribly tired because of the jet lag and my naps, but still, it was close to dawn. By the time the cab came for us, we made it back to the house at close to 5:30am. Birds were chirping. We managed not to wake the rest of the house and finally made it to bed. THAT was a Saturday night in Limerick.

Munster Rugby

Almost a week later, we had another go at an evening out. Jack babysat Steph and Allan’s children so that we could go to a local pub and watch the Munster Rugby match. It was pretty interesting because Munster plays at a new stadium, Thomond Park, which is spitting distance from Jack and Theresa’s house in Mayorstone. You can see the lights of the stadium from the front bedrooms. I am very happy that Allan was unable to get tickets, though, because it was drizzling and cold and I would have been pretty miserable sitting outside and watching a game I don’t even come close to understanding. The pub was a giant monstrosity with several bars both inside and out. I was happy to be inside, under some big TVs to watch the match. As Allan tried to explain things, what I noticed the most was that the heat created from the bodies during the scrum left steam rising from them above the field into the air. It made the stadium seem even colder.

Steph joined us at about the end of the match. She had no interest in watching it, but merely used it as an excuse to get out for a night with the American cousins. We were happy to be used as an excuse. It was just the four of us out that night, in comparison to the Saturday night group the weekend before. You would not know it from looking at us, though. Limerick is a small city and it seems everyone knows everyone else. We saw some of Steph’s bosses, their plumber, some of Linda’s friends, and more. We spent time talking to three of four brothers that everyone knows, probably because they are all huge guys, making Eric look like a shrimp. We also met Sean Guinane, who people call “Seanie”. He was happy to speak to some Yanks for a bit, particularly about his dislike of basketball, which he says looks like ten giraffes running around with a beach ball. I could not agree with him more. It was great chit chatting with all of the Irish. But, Allan started to experiment with our drink orders. He ordered us vodka and Lucozade, an energy drink that is bright orange, but at least better tasting than Red Bull. We had a few rounds and the lights came on in the bar, a bit too early for us because we each had a bunch of the energy drink running through the veins. It was after one in the morning but Steph was not dissuaded. We headed off to a hotel bar on the River Shannon called the Strand, which was rumored to be staying open.

The Strand was jumping when we arrived. At that point, Eric and I agreed to share a beer. It may sound wussy, but I was feeling about done with the drinking at that point. I immediately noticed a bunch of guys at the bar wearing matching white dress shirts with pale blue stripes. I asked a guy I was talking with what the deal was and he did not know. He stopped one of them when he walked by, a big broad shouldered, bald headed lad. I asked him why the group appeared to be wearing matching shirts. He obnoxiously replied “you are kidding right?” I said no, I was not kidding; what’s the deal? He replied “I played tonight.” It took me a second to catch on that he was one of the visiting team, Northampton, rugby players. I told him I did not fully understand, but that I was just a bloody yank, unfamiliar with rugby. He did not like that reply one bit, muttered something else fairly obnoxious, and moved on. It bears noting that (1) Northampton is an English team, not a friendly Irish team; (2) I tried looking him up on the team website and although I found some of the other players I saw that night, I never found his picture on the website; and (3) who did he think he is? It was not as though I was speaking to Beckham, not knowing who HE was. I was speaking with an English rugby player, not really an internationally commercial sport.

Shortly after my confrontation with the “famous” rugby player, Allan dropped off two Red Bull and vodkas for Eric and me. I had clearly told him the rules regarding Red Bull, and he either forgot or ignored it. I did not have the heart to tell him that Eric and I could not finish them. When I smelled the drink it made me want to vomit. Around 3 am, with the talking and chatting winding down, once again I was the party pooper suggesting we head back. We jumped in a cab in the dense fog and made our way home. It was another successful evening out. There is a large part of me, however, that was thankful that Steph and Allan have two children. I don’t know if I could have taken more than two nights out in our ten days in Ireland. I needed my sleep. I am getting too old for this.

Cold Visit to Kilkee

Most of the week was calmer than our two nights out. We had dinner with the family each night and after dinner retired to the living room to chat and listen to old stories being swapped between Mom and Theresa. Tea and biscuits were offered each night, of course. We became temporarily hooked on Dancing on Ice, the ice dancing version of Dancing with the Stars. And, if laughter is the best remedy, then I am convinced we would never be ill in Ireland. Sitting and chatting with Theresa, Jack, and the rest of the gang always provided great laughs, even if I could not always understand what they were saying.

On Thursday we ventured to Kilkee in County Clare. Kilkee is one of our favorite places in Ireland. It is a seaside town, on the tip of a peninsula, jutting into the Atlantic. Jack and Theresa have a caravan, or mobile home, in a development there, a short walk from the beach. Linda and her husband, Shane, bought one as well right next door. We have not been to Ireland in seven years, and in that time, they have both spruced up their lots, with large decks outside. Linda and Shane have a fancy newer caravan, which did not even feel like a mobile home. Each of their homes has three rooms and 1.5 bathrooms. Pretty nice summer digs. We drove down just to see the water and the town and to reminisce. It was rainy that day, windy, and cold. As a result, we did not spend much time outdoors, other than to check on the caravans for the first time in awhile, to ensure they did not suffer any damage from the unusually cold and icy weather after Christmas. While driving through the countryside of Clare, I was reminded of what I love of Ireland - the green farms, the characteristic cottages, and the distinctive landscape. On the way home we stopped off in Lehinch, the surfing capital of Ireland, for a fantastic seafood chowder at Danny Mac's.

It was a nice day trip, but we were happy to just relax during our stay. Our trip was more just to see family, to escort Mom back home to Ireland, and to laugh and eat. We were quite successful in reaching this goal. And, at the end of our stay in Limerick, we had a teary eyed goodbye with the family as Jack drove us to the train station for our next stop - overnight in Dublin and then off to Roma! Ciao Roma.

---

Photos

Our Irish Fry
Thanks Aunt Theresa

Eric is a Happy Camper
With his fry and tea

Birthday Dinner
For Mom - "Aunt May" - a Traditional Roast Dinner

Louise Cheating
She could not wait until the cake was cut.

The Ladies Chillax
Theresa, me, and Mom chilling and relaxing at home

A Guinness At the Lame Duck
Our favorite little country pub in County Clare

Lunch at Danny Mac's
In Lehinch, the surfing capital of Ireland - Mom, Jack, and Eric

At the Ardhu with Steph
Having a pint or two after the rugby match on TV - go Munster

Orange Stuff
The vodka and Lucozade stuff that Allan ordered.