wedding and a funeral

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After a morning of walking on a long beach and trying to learn how to play hurley - sort of a cross between tennis and hockey with some lacrosse and a fair bit of swearing thrown in - we took the ferry across the sea to Arainn, the largest of the Aran Islands. Which is none too big, by the way. About a kilometre across and some 16K long. The ferry ride over was more of a vomit comet - a few passengers looked green when we landed. We're staying at a lovely B&B about a 20-minute walk from town, just past Joe Watty's Bar. There are very few cars here - people walk or ride bikes. It's usually very quiet, but seems busy this weekend because there are two important events - a wedding and a funeral. We're having a quiet day - tomorrow we'll be back to a long hike - doing a circuit of the island. There's not much here, which suits me just fine. The main town, Kilronan, has a half dozen shops, a couple of pubs and a hotel. We were looking for fish for dinner, so I asked a guy (or "your man" as they would call him here) who was painting a wall next to Aran Fisherman restaurant - which had no fish on the menu - where I could get a fish dinner. He suggested the hotel up the hill and we chatted for a bit.
"Yank feller asked me why don't you have any fish at the Aran Fisherman?" he said around the cigarette jammed in his mouth, imitating the fellow's accent.
"What did you tell him?" I asked.
"Told him to feck off," he fella replied with a laugh.
I made sure he knew I was Canuck. Can't be too careful.
The shop owner is about to show me a video called The Man of Aran which I hear is quite good, so best be off. Even on holiday, I gotta get to a screening.
Linda

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Photos

Happy donkey
Welcoming committee to the island

Comments

[Bert Roughton]

Your trip
I think I hate you.