Partner and I spent a week in the west of Ireland back in 2007. We still daydream about it. We saw some of the tourist sights – the Cliffs of Moher, the Rock of Cashel – but we also spent time knocking around big towns and small towns, walking, taking in the sights, talking to people.
Highlights of the trip:
-
Our flight got in early, and we rode from the airport to Limerick, watching the sun rise over the Irish hills. The cabdriver never shut up. We weren't used to the accent yet, so all we could make out was golf blah blah, son-in-law blah blah. Then, just as we get to the city limits of Limerick, traffic slowed. Three huge white swans were in the middle of the road, their backs to the traffic, meandering from one side of the road to the other. “Jaisus!” the cabdriver grunted. “Fecking swans! In the middle of the road!”
-
Our bus driver from Limerick to Moher was a short balding peppery guy with a short fuse. Somewhere en route, a querulous old lady got on the bus, on her way to visit a friend. She asked the driver over and over in a tearful voice how long it would take to get there, how she'd know when they got there, how she was going to get back. Finally he roared at her: “WOMAN! You've ASKED me three TIMES now how you'll know when you're there! Sit DOWN and shut UP! I'll TELL you when we GET there!” It didn't shut her up, though; she kept moaning and chattering the whole way there (to the great entertainment of the Irish people on the bus around us). She got off in Ennistymon, at what looked like a convent, and the driver was firm with her when she got off the bus: “Now, I'll be BACK through here at FIVE this afternoon. NO LATER! If you're not here, you'll NOT see the bus, and I DON'T know what you'll do then. So FIVE O'CLOCK!” We didn't see her that afternoon on the return trip. I hope she had a nice tearful visit with her friend.
-
Another cab driver in Limerick: “This afternoon on the radio, they asked this old countryman from the Dingle if he was going to listen to the Kerry-Cork football game. And he said he was too busy with the cows to listen to the radio! The Dingle! The arsehole of County Kerry!”
-
Street market in Limerick. Very sweet little old lady running a junk shop. Partner tells her that he's half-Irish, that his mother's name was Malloy. “Ah, Malloy!” the old lady said. “From up north! They're known for being . . . very canny people!” Well, naturally, we had to buy something from her after that.
We're going back at our earliest opportunity, canny people that we are.
No comments:
Post a Comment