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Quin Abbey
The sun came out just in time! We got up late. Should we go to The Burren? Nope, we did not have enough time for that. So we punted. We then decided to go to Quin and see the ruins of an old abbey and visit Knappapogue Castle. I made a hearty breakfast and we hit the road taking a route that follows the coast along the Shannon estuary. Along the way I stopped at a bridge to take some photos and there was an older gentleman doing some birdwatching. I went over and we got to chatting about a variety of topics.
The weather this day was quite windy and cloudy. The older gentleman said that it was a lovely day for a drive. Beth and I had a good laugh over that.
By the way, the gps unit can get annoying when one wants to take the road less traveled. I thought I could detect a hint of exasperation in the programmed voice as it kept wanting to redirect me back onto the more direct route. I was able to bludgeon it into submission and see my point of view. The programmed voice did sound slightly maniacal after that, however.
We arrived in Quin in the
Very accessible
Not all sites are this accessible. It has been nicely protected. midst of a rainstorm and it stopped just as we headed out of the car. The abbey is pretty cool as you can see. It turned out to be a grand day. Bet you thought I was going to say a “fecking grand day.”
We had a late lunch at the Abbey Tavern situated nearby before heading to the castle. I had honey roasted duckling and Beth had leg of lamb. Both were quite good. The only downer was that the veggies were cooked to mush. Hmmmm...I can see a pattern here. We took off for the castle unfortunately we really had started out much later than we thought and we arrived to find the gates closed. It was fecking 5 o'clock! How could that be?
It didn't take much time to return back to Cooraclare since we were familiar with the route. There was still quite a bit of light out and so we went for a walkabout. We walked out by the local pitch and found a game in progress. I didn't have my camera! Apparently the local Clare parish team was having a friendly match with a neighboring parish. Well mostly friendly as there was a moment
Inside view
of the main church building. when tempers flared. There was a kid that was close to the fence from where we were watching so I asked him some questions.
He was very friendly (like everyone else) and explained the game in progress. He inquired where were from and mentioned that he had been to the USA once. He said he had a cousin living in New York and had gone to visit him. The cousin lives in the Bronx. He said he had never been in such a big city in his life. Actually it is has been a common experience to encounter people that have relatives that have recently emigrated to the USA. They all love America and Americans. I can understand that since they have historical ties to our country through continual emigration. They also all want to know if we were enjoying ourselves. They sincerely wished us to have good time.
Watching gaa football live is quite fun. The other big game going on is hurling. This is a game that is fashioned around the same principles as lacrosse/soccer but uses a bat with a flattened end and the ball get batted around. It is an extremely fast game and fun to
Hallway view
The flash brightened up the gloom. watch. It too is an amateur sport and the national tournament is in progress. People are caught up in the excitement and you see county flags on display throughout the countryside. It would be fun to watch a live match.
We headed back home with plans to head to The Burren National Park the next day. Our plan was to stop in at O'Keeffe's for just one pint because we wanted to start out early the next morning. When we showed up there were about 5 guys and within a couple of minutes we were being asked about where we were from, were we enjoying our visit, etc., etc. One of the old “older” lads named Patrick wanted to know if we could sing. I said I hadn't had enough to drink yet to think that I could. Beth only knows numbers and so she can't sing either.
Patrick inquired about our names and was confused about me. He wanted to know if I was Jewish. He decided that he would call me Patrick as he said he couldn't remember my name. One of guys we had met before was also in there. He said that they should just call
An adjacent church
Built by one of Ireland's numerous saints. The interiors of the ruins are used as cemeteries to this day. me “Dude.” This was referring to an earlier story about a goofy student I had this year that wanted to refer to me as “dude.” This is one of those stories that is a funnier if you were there.
It was Sunday night and bingo was going on so the town was hopping. More people started coming in to have a pint. Presently Patrick got up and sang a song. I was amazed that he could remember so many lyrics. All along we thought that they were pulling our tourista legs as a joke. Nope, singing is a serious thing here.
We got to chatting with a variety of people as they came in and left. Everyone was curious about us and were very friendly. Although we had planned on just one, another pair of pints showed up in front of us. A lovely gentleman by the name of Michael had bought them for us. He had lived in the USA for a time and was an avid reader. We talked about books and he wrote down a list for me to read to get insight into the Irish. By now it was about 10:30 and the music started up.
What was the interior
now grassy covered and with graves & markers. A lady was there tending to a family grave that day. A singalong started and we joined in. I was well into my second pint when the crowd encouraged a woman to sing. She sang “The Rocks of Bawn.”
She nearly had me in tears. The song is a haunting rendition of the hard times the Irish have lived. It is about the famine that killed so many (a million) Irish through starvation, the emigration, the repression by the English, and the rebellion. She sang it in such a way that it was defiant and sorrowful at the same time. I had a fleeting glimpse of what moves the Irish. Sitting in a little pub in a little village filled with an older generation of Irish that have known hard times is a singular experience. It was very moving. Should you come to Ireland, seek out the little out-of-the-way pubs and share a pint with the locals. One of the locals named Senan said to us, “If you know history, you understand everything.” I couldn't agree more.
After the famine, which lasted three years, and the mass exodus through emigration, Ireland's population plummeted from 7 million to 2 million. Add to that the history of conquest, English repression, poor economy, and
View of Abbey Tower
Through the slotted windows of the nave. wars...their history is a sad but glorious testament to their pride and endurance. Erin go Bragh!
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dave
non-member comment
Don't sing?
The Irish must hear your rendition of "La Bamba"!