A Few Words About Words

St. Patrick's Day is coming up and, I know I don't usually talk about it, but my family is from Ireland.

I'll give you a moment to get over that bombshell.

I will admit that I find North American people's interpretation of St. Patrick's Day a bit comical. It's a play-by-play of every Irish stereotype wrapped up in a plastic shamrock bow. There is nothing Irish about the way we celebrate St. Patrick's Day. But it's also endearing, in it's own way: everyone in green outfits and plastic shamrocks from head-to-toe while trying out Oirish accents as they order copious pints of Guinness.

Nike decided to get on the St. Patrick's Day bandwagon this year by releasing a line of Irish beer themed shoes just in time for the big day. I, as I am want to do, had a few opinions about this.

I don't have a problem with the drink, Black and Tan, as it's not an Irish drink. People assume it is because of the standard practice of using Guinness for the top, but the drink didn't originate in Ireland and the name can be applied to any two-toned beer combination.

But the shoes. They bug me.

Never mind the fact that a Black and Tan isn't actually an Irish drink, but this is not the first time Nike has put its foot in its mouth when it comes to Ireland. Is there no one in the whole of the Nike corporation that understands how Google works?

The Black and Tans in Irish history were British military units sent to Ireland during the War of Independence. The actions of these men, many of them WWI vets suffering from shell-shock, were nothing short of horrific. Their job was to stop Irish rebels at any cost, and if they suspected that you were a rebel they took a shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude towards handling you.

The name came from their uniforms: khaki pants left over from WWI and dark tops to denote them as members of the Irish Constabulary. You can perhaps see then why naming an article of clothing Black and Tan in a highly misguided attempted to celebrate St. Patrick's Day got my nickers in a knot.

All this leads me to a drink name I do have a problem with: the Irish Car Bomb.

In the past, I've had friends offer to buy me this drink, Hey Andrea, you're Irish. Let's have an Irish Car Bomb. Ha Ha Ha! I've always declined (and not just because of the name. Who chugs Guinness? Who ruins whiskey by mixing it with Bailey's? Or vice versa?) This is not an Irish drink and its name is offensive. You wouldn't name a drink an Afghan Roadside Bomb, so why is it okay to name one an Irish Car Bomb?

Approximately 3500 people died in Northern Ireland as a result of the Troubles, many of them from car bombs. Countless more were injured. Loyalist. Republican. Catholic. Protestant. Military. Civilian. People died and we think it's acceptable to order it as a drink. While the Troubles are officially over thanks to a bunch of politicians signing a piece of paper, car bombs are still around.

In 1998, mere months after the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, a car bomb exploded in Omagh killing 29 people and injuring over 200 more. Last April, Omagh was rocked again when the bomb attached to Ronan Kerr's car killed him. Constable Kerr was a new recruit to the Police Service of Northern Ireland. He was 25 years old.

If you really want to celebrate Ireland and the Irish this St. Patrick's Day, ask your bartender for a Durty Nelly. It's the exact same drink but with a much less offensive name.

Unless you happened to be named Nelly.

To You From Failing Hands

It is Remembrance Day in Canada to honour those who have fought and, in some cases, died for our country. The day has taken on more meaning for me as I get older and I know some of the men and women who currently wear the uniform. I rarely make it through the day now without crying at some point.

About three years ago, I started a tradition of writing to "Any Canadian Forces Member" at this time of year. I pick four or five different operations, usually focusing on lesser known ones, and send my thoughts and thanks on the back of a postcard of Canada. Who doesn't love getting random postcards?

You can participate in the "Any Canadian Forces Member" by following the instructions on this page.

And I encourage you to hug a vet.

Derry, Derry, Quite Contrary

Derry (or Londonderry as it’s officially called) had long been on my list of places I’d like to visit given its role in Irish history. From the story of the apprentice boys shutting the city gates and holding back the Jacobite armies to the events of Ireland’s 2^nd bloody Sunday in 1972, the relatively small city has played a pivotal role. If you do any sort of reading about Irish history, it’s a name that crops up again and again. How could I not visit?

Plus you can walk the walls in Derry. Along with ruined religious buildings and old cemeteries, I have a thing for walled cities. In fact, it’s kind of the reason why I went to York and Lucerne on previous travels. I know; I’m an odd duck.

Travelling on the off season has a couple of disadvantages and one was that the holiday hours for the Bogside Artists Gallery and the Museum of Free Derry had been reduced to week-days only. Al and I were on our own for visiting the Bogside Murals. On our own and soaking wet; the rain was back in full force!

There are 12 murals in total which deal with specific events or themes.

I found this the hardest to look at and yet the most powerful.

Yes, that's a child holding a petrol bomb.

We wandered our way through the murals until we reached the Free Derry corner. The words "You are now entering Free Derry" were originally written on the side of a housing building in January 1969. It was part of the lead up to a two-day riot, now known as the Battle of the Bogside, later that year. It's also associated with the events of 1972 in which members of the British Army fired into what appeared to be a peaceful protest and killed 13 people*. This event is now referred to as Bloody Sunday. These two events were early sparks in the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the Bogside is very much a stronghold of Republican support. 

I can't help but believe the location for that mural was very, very deliberate.

At this point, Al and I were drenched (and depressed from my random sprouting of tidbits about these events). We decided that breakfast and a hot cuppa were in order. While we tried (in vain) to dry out (and Al ate Black Pudding for the first time), the rain stopped and the sun appeared. We must have some of the worst timing ever! With a sky above us, we decided to chance a walk along the walls.

The walk is actually fairly short (you could easily do it in 30 minutes if you don’t keep stopping to take pictures) but incredibly enjoyable (in the sun). As Derry is built on a small hill, you have some incredible views from the wall.

Looking back at the Bogside

Also, there are a lot of cannons along the wall. Cannons are cool. Just like bow ties. Although if you suffer from a fear of spiders, keep back. Almost all of them contained webs on them somewhere. To be honest, unused cannons are the best kinds of cannons.

If it hadn't still been wet, I totally would have sat on it Dr. Strangeglove-style!

The walls are quite wide. In many areas, because of the hill, you are almost even with the city on one side while there is a sheer drop on the other. Along with the occasional building, there was even a church and graveyard on the wall. A wall walk with a graveyard?!? You just know I died and went to heaven, right? I even dragged Al into the church.

It remained dry for the rest of our walk. It even managed to get downright hot and sunny in a few parts. Once we had almost completed our loop, I made Al stop. I took a quick look around to make sure that we were by ourselves and then I danced a jig. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do on the walls of Derry for no other reason that I thought it would be funny.

And I did it in front of the Church of Ireland (Anglican)

Once we finished our walk, Al and I went our separate ways for a few hours. There was a museum she wanted to see. I also wanted to see it but I had just reached that ‘no mas’ line for educational matter (just another reason to go back, I say) so instead I found a coffee shop and wrote a bunch of postcards. We met up two hours later, grabbed our bags and bid farewell to Derry and Northern Ireland. On to Donegal!

A few words about Northern Ireland: If you drew a line from Dublin to Galway, my favourite parts of Ireland would be north of that line. When people ask me my opinion on where to go in Ireland, I always say ‘go north’ and Northern Ireland is a big chunk of that part of the island. I can not say enough good things about Northern Ireland.

Even with the ceasefire and the Good Friday agreement in effect, Northern Ireland can be a hard sell for people who have only ever heard of it in connection with the Troubles. Add to that the random sectarian violence which is occurring even now and I had friends who feared for my safety when I said I was going to Northern Ireland. My natural response was to laugh and tell them it's not the '80's anymore.

Or perhaps they were not too far off: a viable bomb was found in Belfast the Friday before we went up there and a bomb exploded in Derry a few nights after we left. Please, do not let isolated incidents like this deter you from going to the North. It is a beautiful place full of (mostly) friendly people. From the hostel man in Belfast who was gobsmacked that two tourists visited Blackwater Town to the driver of the Coleraine bus who didn’t charge us any fares, people were chatty, helpful, and kind.

From the previous paragraph, it’s obvious that the problems in Northern Ireland are not gone. They didn’t sign the Good Friday Agreement and *poof* the IRA**, INLA, UVF, UDA and all other paramilitary groups just disappeared into the annals of the history books. They’re still there and some of them are still angry. Four hundred years of oppression, retaliation, hatred and prejudice is a hard thing to remove from a people’s psyche. 

Why then would I encourage you to visit Northern Ireland? Because even at the height of the Troubles, it was rare for tourists to be affected by the violence. Because the more tourist money that comes into Northern Ireland, the more the moderates will work to keep it peaceful. Because the fabulous people in Northern Ireland shouldn’t suffer because some people there are dicks. Because it’s not the well-oiled rip-off machine that the south is.

Most simply, because you can.

*An additional victim died a few months later from wounds received that day.

**Additional history lesson: There actually isn't a group called the IRA; it split in the early 70's to become the PIRA (Provisional) and the OIRA (Official) which both refer to themselves as 'the IRA'. Having said that, it's mostly the PIRA which you've been reading about in the news for the last 30 years.

Going Coastal on You!

In our original travel plans, Al and I were going to head to Belfast bright and early so we could have the better part of the day there. We’d arrive by 10:30 and then we could count it as a full day. In our original travel plans, however, we failed to account for the step-aunts wanting to do morning coffee. We finally boarded a bus in Dungannon at 11:45. If you’re keeping track and home, that’s 3.5 hours later than we anticipated. Our day in Belfast turned into an afternoon. And what a wet miserable afternoon it was!

After a wrong turn out of the bus station which almost led to us walking into Falls Rd/Shankill Rd area (which is where a lot of the troubles in Belfast were centred), we found our hostel, ditched our bags and phoned the first Black Taxi cab tour listed in our guide. The voice on the other end of the phone said he’d pick us up in 15 minutes. It was the only thing that went according to schedule that day!

Our guide, Ken Harper, was fabulous. Friendly, knowledgeable and hilarious, he kept us entertained from beginning to end. We got on well with him and our 1 hour tour actually ended up being 1.5 hours as he threw in a quick go around the city centre as well. I wish I had more pictures to share, but the rain was bucketing down on and off throughout our ride meaning a lot of the picture opportunities found Al and I just sitting in the cab because even rolling down the window for a decent shot just wasn’t worth it.

This is the part of the peace line that people sign. Ken offered us a pen; Al and I just laughed.

We could barely see the wall from the car it was raining so hard!

The rain did stop long enough for us to see the hooded gunman mural. The mural has been the centre of a lot of controversy over the years (Really? A hooded man pointing a gun in mural form in an area affected by violence has garnered controversy? No way!), but I was mostly interested in it because the gun apparently follows you as you walk.

Unfortunately when we got back in the car and drove to the other side, the rains had started up again, but I can say that the gun most definitely follows you. It’s very creepy. I know it’s just a painting but dude, it’s a gun and it follows you! There is no way I could walk past that at night!

I have a strange relationship with Belfast; I want to like it, I want to think it’s a great city, I want to believe I should encourage people to go there but I always come away feeling let down. It’s not a friendly city. I know that has a lot to do with its past and that people tend to keep much more to themselves compared to the rest of Ireland (even compared to the rest of the North), but it makes it hard for me to say that Belfast was awesome. It’s definitely worth a visit, I'm just not convinced it's worth a stay.

Still, my cousins who live there seem to love it.

We spent the night hanging out with my aunt and uncle. I chose not to stay with my aunt because she’s never been in great health and she had just had surgery on her cataracts a week before we arrived. I figured she didn’t need the stress of two girls staying with her. Well, I obviously thought wrong because all I got all night was a good old Irish-Catholic guilt trip about not staying with them. “It’s a pity you’re in a hostel when we have all these empty rooms.” “How much money would you have saved by staying with us?” “You come all the way from Canada and you don’t even stay with family.” And the parting shot as we left, “it would have been lovely to have spent more time with you, but I guess we should get you back to the hostel.”

She! Just! Had! Surgery!

Still, she poured the stiffest drink I’ve ever seen. My glass was half rum, half 7-Up! Maybe we should have stayed with her...

The next day was our tour along the Antrim Coast to Bushmills (where we’d jump off the bus and then public transit it to Derry, everyone else got driven back to Belfast). We had booked the tour on a whim the day before. We originally planned to get to Giant’s Causeway on our own but when we saw the tour company across the street from the hostel, we decided to see if it was feasible to only go the one way. Not only was it feasible, but it turned out to be one of the best decisions we made on the entire trip.

The day looked like it was going to be a washout as the rains started up as we departed Belfast. For our first stop in Carrickfergus, only half of us got off the bus to take pictures. By the time we had left Carrickfergus the sun was out. While the occasional shower would continue to show up during the course of the trip, that was the only really bad rain.

Our guide, a quick-witted Scot named Tom, had us all in stitches with his stories about the area. He had married a local girl and it was clear that he had fallen just as much in love with the country and he had with her. Of course, he still pointed out Scotland across the water every chance he got!

Driving the coast road

Stopping for a break in Carnlough

Of course, the upside to the weather was that we got a lot of rainbows.

Being on the tour meant that we stopped at Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge, something we wouldn’t have done on public transit. The 1.5km walk out to the bridge afforded us lovely views out to Rathlin Island.

That's Rathlin Island on the horizon.

Our first view of the bridge.

Once we got to the bridge, I had to pep Al up a bit. She’s not big on heights and what all these pictures fail to show is how incredibly windy it was that day.

Half-way across just before a huge gust of wind.

Al did cross and I can’t begin to explain how happy I was that she did. Even with all my ‘can do’ bravado about the bridge I had a moment of panic halfway across when a huge gust of wind started the bridge swaying. The words ‘I hate you’ may have escaped Al’s lips after we reached the other side.

That's the fishing hut which was the reason the bridge

was first put up between the island and the mainland.

After we walked to the far side of the tiny island and snapped a few pictures, we crossed back. I half expected Al to kiss the ground once we were back across but she managed to refrain herself... probably only until I wasn’t looking.

That v-shaped gap is where the bridge is.

We've crossed the bridge, Al's still smiling and she hasn't killed me.

If our friendship can survive this, it can survive anything!

The next big stop on our trip was Giant’s Causeway. When asked if the Giant's Causeway was worth seeing, Samuel Johnson one quipped, "worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see." As Tom kindly pointed out, Johnson also travelled three days to see the Causeway so his opinion is to be taken with a grain of salt.

I'm willing to be that Johnson didn't have views of rainbows on his walk to the Causeway.

We opted to walk down to the Causeway and save ourselves the £1 and the views were worth the saved money. (Although we totally paid the £1 to take the bus back up from the Causeway.)

The Ulster Way follows much of this part of the coast.

I can't help but think what a spectacular hike it would be!

Science would have us believe that the Causeway was the result of volcanic activity and the subsequent cooling of the resulting molten basalt millions of years ago. As the basalt cooled unevenly, geometric shapes formed where the cooled areas pushed against each other. This is all a very fascinating explanation but as Tom so kindly pointed out, do you see any volcanoes in the area? No.

Legend has it that Fionn mac Cumhaill (pronounced Finn MacCool), a giant who once roamed the Irish countryside, had a beef with a giant in Scotland. After tossing insults and threats back and forth, Fionn decided enough was enough and it was time to settle the argument. He built the Causeway so the other giant, who couldn’t swim, could cross the water and the two could duke it out. Except when he got his first glimpse of the other giant, the other giant ended up being much bigger than Finn had anticipated and Finn realised he was going to lose the fight.

Fionn ran home to his wife and told her of the problem. Unbeknown to Fionn, she devised a plan. After giving Fionn a potion so he’d fall asleep, she swaddled him up like a baby. She invited the other giant in, explaining that Fionn was off working but should be home soon. When the other giant saw the baby, he figured ‘if that’s the baby, how big is his father?’ and he ran back to Scotland, smashing the Causeway as he went so that Fionn couldn’t follow him.

Doesn’t that sound a lot more plausible than volcanoes in Ireland? ;)

We finished up the day with a quick trip to Bushmills and Dunluce Castle before Tom stopped traffic to flag down our bus to Coleraine. There’s nothing really special about it except that Tom went above and beyond to get us on that bus and because we had to run, we didn’t really get a chance to thank him. Also, he's a huge Game of Thrones fan and when he found out that I was as well, he pointed out all the filming locations that we passed. All in all, he was a great tour guide and if you’re in that neck of the woods and looking for an Antrim Coast tour, I would whole-heartedly, without any hesitation, recommend getting on a tour with Tom who works for Ben Allen Tours. Seriously, the man was incredible. (Ben was a gas as well and I wish we could have chatted longer. He was cracking Al and I up.)

From Coleraine, we hopped the train to Derry. For the most part, we tried to avoid the train as it was usually very expensive unless you book well in advance but the trip from Coleraine to Derry was supposed to be spectacular as it followed the coast of Lough Foyle. It did not disappoint.

Came out of a tunnel to this view. That's Co. Donegal across the Lough.

We pulled into Derry just as the sun was setting. After a bit to eat, a quick pint, and a bit of traditional music, we called it a day and headed off to bed.

Note about the links to businesses in this post: Neither of the businesses I've linked to knew that I would be writing about them and/or linking to them. I've linked to them because I was really happy with the service they provided to a nobody. Please note that I don't even recommend the safari company I went with in Tanzania because it's owned by a friend and I don't feel comfortable sending people to him when I know that my fabulous experience was based on already having a pre-established friendship with the guide, so when I recommend these businesses, I really, really mean it.

Gaols and Guinness

This post should be starting with a picture of me in my Irish rugby jersey giving the thumbs up in front of the TV showing Ireland 26 – Italy 6. Upon reviewing the picture, however, I realised my uncle doesn’t just wear glasses because he’s a hipster... the moment passed and all I have now is the memories of getting up at 7:45am to make breakfast and tea, sitting down with my aunt and uncle, holding my breath a few times, and watching Ireland beat Italy. It was a great way to start the Sunday. As the ad said: this is rugby country.

Within a week, however, Ireland’s rugby dreams would be over. Damn you, Wales!

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur. I cleaned my room, I wrote some more in my journal, and then I headed into town to meet Al. [Insert WOO-HOO! Here]

I’ve often told my friends that they’re welcome to join me when I go to Ireland (although the invite has been known to come after a few beers). I know that the experience I offer as a travel companion in Ireland is vastly different than that which they would get going on their own. Plus, it gets lonely having all these Ireland stories to tell and the only people who get them are still back in Ireland. Al finally took me up on the offer.

After a brief nap and a lovely BBQ dinner, Al and I headed out for our first drink together in Ireland. We wandered to the quiet pub not far from my uncle’s and sat down to wrap our heads around the fact that we were actually in Ireland together. No more tentative talk, no more travel suggestions, no more sight-seeing ideas, this was it!

And after only one pint, we called it a night. Hey! She was still jet-lagged and we had an early start the next day. Give us some credit! We had to pace ourselves for two weeks!

We started the next day by jumping on a hop-on-hop-off tour of Dublin. Truth was that it was easier to take one of those things than trying to figure out where to catch the bus to Kilmainham Gaol and the Guinness Storehouse. Of course, the tour bus only goes in one direction which meant a lot of wasted time after we did it the first time.

Bright-eyed and bushy tailed... thank you two cups of tea and a cup of coffee.

The Guinness Storehouse was actually the first stop but given the subject matter of Kilmainham Gaol (here’s a hint: it’s a former jail), we felt that showing up with a beer in us probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Besides, who doesn’t like a little jail talk first thing in the morning? ;)

Looking down the old wing

Kilmainham was a sobering and sombre experience. Originally opened in 1796, the jail suffered from overcrowded almost immediately. During the famine, entire families were sent there for not paying rent or for stealing to eat. Children were also sent alone to Kilmainham; the youngest inmate without parents was a five year old boy. Our guide, a lovely girl with a true Dub accent, told us some people viewed it as a better option than being on the street during that time because you were guaranteed one meal a day. Still, I find it hard to believe that one meal a day would be much comfort to a scared five year old.

There were often up to five people in one room. I'm guessing the idea of 'personal space'

was quickly tossed. Hmm, perhaps a bit of Feng Shui would help open the space up.

In the mid 1800’s, the ‘Victorian Wing’ was added to the jail to help alleviate the overcrowding. It was built on the ‘central eye’ system which was a new concept for the time. The idea was that you could police more inmates with fewer guards by making an open space in the centre. They also glassed in part of the roof as doctors were beginning to understand that there was a correlation between lack of sunlight and sickness.

Totally going to work on my tan

If this wing looks familiar that’s because it was used in the filming of In the Name of the Father, Michael Collins, The Tudors, and The Italian Job*.^ The jail remained in use until 1924 when it was shut down at the end of the Civil War by the Irish government. It fell into ruin and was condemned when a group of volunteers recognized the historical significance of the buildings and started cleaning them up. It was officially opened as a museum in 1971.

The white walls really spruce the place up. Maybe they should try that in the old wing!

For most people, Kilmainham is associated with the Easter Uprising of 1916. It was at this jail that the leaders were held after they surrendered, and it was in the courtyard that they were executed. The uprising itself was a failure with very little support amongst the population of Dublin but when word got out about the executions (especially that of James Connelly), public opinion changed. The British halted the executions but it was too late.

The cross marks the spot where the executions took place.

Obviously, the only way to follow up such a serious topic was by drinking and what better place to get our drink on in Dublin than the Guinness Storehouse?

For the record, I want this for Christmas. I think it would look fabulous in my living room.

Might have to get the floor reinforced... or move into a ground floor apartment.

I’m going to rant for a second: it costs €15 to get into the Guinness Storehouse and the tour is self-guided. SELF-GUIDED! You are paying for them to let you in the door and nothing else. Sure, you get a complimentary Guinness at the end but at €15 and no guide that needs to be paid, you should get two complimentary Guinness! [/rant]

Still, the tour is fun and informative (and once the crowd thins out, enjoyable).

This is where I tell you that I took this picture because my dad’s dad’s dad (got that? My great-granddad) was a cooper. (And our fathers' fathers' fathers!) Big up to the coopers of the world! W00t! W00t! (All five of you that are left.)

When we finally climbed all seven levels of the Storehouse, we found ourselves in the Gravity Bar where the free complimentary Guinness awaits.

And by ‘awaits’, I mean that you wait for it to be ready because Guinness really does taste better when it’s poured properly (and no, they do not pour it properly in North America. It's not just about the waiting. I pointed that out in a pub once and the bartender yelled at me because they’re too busy to do it how I suggested).

Damn, that tastes good!

As we were attending the Literary Pub Crawl that night, we finished our drinks and then wandered around Dublin until it was time to meet up at the Duke Pub. I have to say that for Allison's first full day in Ireland, the sunset didn't disappoint.

Of course, Al only cared about getting to food before the pub crawl.``

Sunset sunshmet! Put down the camera. It's food time!

The Literary Pub Crawl starts at the Duke Pub (on the corner of Duke St. and Duke Lane; for a country so renown for its literary creativity...) and if you have a free evening in Dublin, you should definitely go. Two actors take you through the history of some of Ireland's better known writers, performing scenes from plays, reciting poetry, and cracking jokes.

The fun begins here!

It also ends down the road so you don't have to drunkenly figure out which way is home.

After you leave the Duke, all this takes place on the streets near the pubs you stop at. I went in thinking this would happen at each pub. In all honestly, the pubs are just an excuse to make you walk around instead of sitting in the Duke all night. The only downside is that they only give you about 20 minutes to down your drink. Unless you're a champion chugger, I suggest sticking with half pints!

Some of the pubs also contain the answer to the trivia questions they ask throughout the night.

If they ask what year Arthur Guinness died, a picture in this pub has the answer.

The pubs are not just chosen for their location but also for their literary or historical connection. Before turning you lose for your beverage, they give you the reason for picking that pub. Remember this picture?

See? Half pints. We know how to make sure we can finish the crawl.

It was taken in The Old Stand which was once known as the Monico (no, I did not misspell it). Due to its proximity to his office, it was a favourite drinking haunt of Michael Collins. Literature, history, and drinks? Best. Night. EVER!

*The original film with Michael Caine which you should totally watch to learn exactly why we use the term ‘cliff hanger’ when an ending leaves us in suspense.

^It was also used in Primeval but I have an sneaking suspicion I'd be the only person who'd get that reference.

``This is in here because I specifically promised Al that I wouldn't talk any smack about her on my blog. Let's see if she's playing attention! (PS. NO TIPPING HER OFF, THR.)