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Published: March 15th 2006
Greetings from
Cappoquin, Ireland. Situated on a right hand bend of the Blackwater River in County Waterford in the South East of Ireland. With a population of a little over 700 it can only be considered an Irish village.
But don't think this is a sleepy little place were the dogs lounge in the middle of the road. There are a number of factories in town and plenty of jobs. The largest factory is Cappoquin Chickens. People are busy here. Now, make no mistake, most shops open around 10 am and close at 1 pm for lunch and again about 5 pm. This week is a big horse racing week so the pubs are full in the afternoon. And I did pass a dog lounging in the street today, but he was off to the side.
Why Cappoquin? My Great-great-grandfather was born across the street from the guesthouse where I am staying. Just at the end of the Great Famine he joined a group called the Young Ireland that was the first group to start talking about the use of violence against the British State to win freedom. After failed attempts at rebellion and escaping to America he joined the Fenian movement. The philosophy of these two group morphed over time into the IRA, the group that just last year finally gave up arms against the British State in Northern Ireland.
So I am here to sink into my roots I suppose. Or to find out what the roots turned into. I am also here to slow down, to take pictures and in a few weeks do some bike touring.
Getting here was fun - NOT. having learned from the past I stayed a day in a B&B near the airport. As previously reported I slept all day. I then took a cab to Limerick to catch a bus to Waterford. I had my bike in a box and everyone agreed it was a big box - too big for the first little cab that came. No one seemed too pleased.
I spent two days and a night in Waterford before catching a bus late on Saturday to Cappoquin. The weather on Saturday was surly and so was my mood. It was not helped my a soaking wet 2 km walk out of town to the Waterford Crystal factory.
The only good thing that happened to me that day was the nice bus conductor who put my bike on the bus and said I probably did not have to pay the 10 Euro for it. Come to find out that it is actually two buses to Cappoquin with an exchange. The bus driver was non too please when I took my bike off and he gave me the what-for. The local bus driver to Cappoquin was a friendly fellow who didn't mind that I filled up his bus with all my crap and he did not even charge me. He had a grand time telling stories with a crusty old farmer, the only other one on the bus. That improved my mood.
Man do the Irish cuss. The women say f**k more often her then men do in a locker room in the states. My favorite is 'for f**k sake'.
Cappoquin was very quiet at 10:30 pm when I got there. As I settled into my room that used to be a Catholic grade school room my first thought was 'what the hell have I gotten myself into?'. So I did something I have never done - I unpacked and put everything away.
So this week has been a process of figuring out a-new what the hell I have gotten myself into. I will keep you posted when I figure it out.
My Internet connection will be sporadic and I have not figured out how I will get pictures on yet.
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Alla
non-member comment
Welcome to a piece of your history! Are you proud of yourself for making it that far? Wanna come for dinner on Sunday? Ha! I miss you Bryan. I will put a plate on the table for you. -Love, Alla