Much Ado About Doolin

'Lets go away for a few days'

How could I say no? Two days home from Kerry my sister arrives into the house on the beginning of her week's holidays from work and suggests the two of us heading off for a few sisterly days down the country. Having never been on holidays alone with my only sibling, I was sceptical, but gone are the days when we couldn't spend two hours together without shouting abuse at each other, and it turns out it was a fantastic two days.

We had been so many times to the popular west coastal town of Galway, and thought a change was in order, so we chose the picturesque little village of Doolin in county Clare. Its a favourite of our parents, and a popular backpacking site for those who wish to see the old Ireland full of misty mountains, old cottages and brick walls that lead to nowhere. We drove down on Thursday morning, and I am not sure what I expected, but what I got was quite surprising. For those of you who haven't been to Doolin, it is tiny, and I mean tiny. Its one street of about 5 pubs, a few cafes and numerous B&Bs and hostels. No shop. No pharmacy. No ATM. No garage. We initially thought we were insane, but it turns out the pubs serve the most gorgeous food and have a great atmospheres at night when all the tourists arrive in to eat stew and listen to what we Irish call diddly idle music (traditional 3 or 4 piece group playing Irish music).

We spent out first day in Lahinch, which saw us braving the Clare mountains in a dense fog. The solution we ingeniously came up with was to follow the large green 'Paddy Wagon' tourist bus which we were convinced for no reason was on the same route as us. We found ourselves on the dangerously windy cliff's of Moher with no idea where we were going and no phone signal to even make a call, let alone get GPS coordinates. Much panic and sub sequential giddyness later we found ourselves in Lahinch, a beautiful seaside town which is known for its incredible surfing beach. Although the weather wasn't exactly in agreement with this claim to fame, and we spent our time sitting in a cafe with a hot cup of tea watching surfers being blown off their boards and laughing cruelly at their attempt to overcome Irish weather.

After a night of tapping to music and drinking far too many glasses of wine, we found ourselves toddling home on a pitch black deserted country road back to our hostel talking to cows we were convinced were humans and being scared by fellow toddlers that we were convinced were cows. Tip; if staying in a hostel anywhere in Ireland that is not in a city, make sure its in some sort of lit village. The 'down the pitch black lane Irish country feel' hostels can threaten your sanity as well as your life.

The following day we headed off to Doolin Cave where we descended 200 or so steps and walked 3kms into the ground to see the biggest stalactite in Europe (for those like me who only see white rocks, stalactites are the ones that hang from the roof .... I think). I have to say, it was pretty impressive, and the guide, although a little overanimated and rehearsed, was very informative and kept the tour interesting despite the simplicity of the cave. We headed on from here with a map from the cave's shopkeeper in search of a house. Now, this is no ordinary house. Oh no. This is Father Ted's house. For those of your who don't know who Father Ted is, shame on you. SHAME. Father Ted was a fantastic comedy tv show which told the antics of two priests on an island off the coast of Ireland. It made clergymen in Ireland look shameful, and made everyone else double over with laughter. After a good 2 hours of driving and consulting a local shop worker, we found the house 4 miles down the smallest road, and suitably stood like idiots in front of it taking pictures while the kids who lived there played hurling in the garden with the dogs.

We went from there on to have lunch at a local lake which is a hidden gem in these parts. There were only a handful of people around, and the view was nothing short of a postcard. We sat ourselves down on some picnic benches and ate our Spar roles and regretted not being elderly-like and bringing a flask of tea.

We finished off our great two days with a shared pizza and a few drinks in one of the locals with a good bout of sisterly gossiping before heading off home the next morning to return to reality. Again, I was shown that a good break away doesn't have to mean planes, trains and automobiles. 2 and a half hours of a journey away is a wealth of beauty and holiday atmosphere, even if it does involve fog, roads to nowhere and Father Ted.

Slán.

A Break Away, In More Ways Than One.

I have been finding it hard to write. I have toyed with the idea of abandoning this blog and leaving it to rest in the waste drawers of the world wide web, as I simply don't know what to do with it. It has turned due to its great success into a travelling blog from my time in Thailand and surrounding countries, and now that I am back in my home country I simply don't know what to write about. I feel like my life has run out of interesting tales. I have been home for three months now, and I have been one of the lucky ones to find permanent work in a stable retail company, but I can't help but feel my feet itching. The monotonous rat race of the western world is all too clear to me now, and coming back to it hasn't been easy. But, if I want to go back to University to do my extra year to become qualified to teach in Ireland and other first world countries, I have to save, and saving means Irish wages. Not really much more of an option. I have however taken a few days of a break to ease the travel itch, and have actually found that you don't have to head to the other side of the world to have a good holiday. I was so blown away with my adventures in SE Asia that I had forgotten what beauty and wonder there are right on my doorstep.

So I took myself three hours down the road to Killarney in County Kerry, where I met up with a friend who is working down there as a graduate geologist. My first port of call was her workplace; Crag Cave just outside Castleisland. I have been to many caves over my time travelling Ireland and England with my parents as a child, but I have to say, this one is simply stunning. Of course, being an English graduate, my knowledge of rocks and such is bordering on Montessori level (there was a lot of 'oooo look at the pretty rock'), but the guides there are so informative and interesting, and the cave is presented so beautifully that I was amazed by it all. The entire set up is quite interesting too, as it serves as an entire day out for the family. They have a good sized playground, an indoor play area, and a really nice area to get food and buy a few nice souvenirs. My favourite part though was their bird show. As I was a VIP .... ye ok not exactly VIP but you know .... I got a one to one encounter with the birds. Unbelievable beautiful creatures. My favourite was a little sandy coloured barn owl who was brilliantly intelligent, but his eagle owl was stunning. Her wingspan was longer than my height, and her eyes were so piercing I could nearly feel her judging my soul. Slightly creepy now I think back on her, but an amazing bird.

From here we went into Killarney and after food found ourselves in a tiny bar named 98. This place was about 4 people wide and about the depth of an average house, but the atmosphere was fantastic. The singer was really versatile and we soon found ourselves singing away with the entire pub to all the typical Irish pub songs. The simple pleasure of knowing every song that comes along and being able to order a Miller!

The next day we spent a bit of time around the town, but soon headed up the mountains in the car. I was taken by my lovely hostess to a place named 'Lady's View'. On the way up I was having serious dejavu, but thought 'one mountain looks like another, right'. Wrong. I must have been 8 or 9 when my parents brought me up that mountain, and the minute I arrived at the viewpoint, I knew exactly where I was. It is impossible to forget the sight up there. All those years I always told people of the most beautiful view on the planet, but I could never remember where it was. I began to believe that I had imagined the whole thing. But no, there it was in blissful high definition, and it was nearly better than I remembered.

After a long drive through the teeny tiny mountain roads we found ourselves in the black valley. This place was the last place in the country to receive electricity, and its not hard to see why that is. It is the most remote and god forsaken place in Ireland. Hidden deep between the mountain range, surrounded by rough rocky land, roads that haven't been altered since they were put in place decades ago, and dozens of sheep, goats and mountain streams, lies the houses of the most insane people on the planet. Its about 30 minutes to any civilisation, with no street lights and bad roads. All I could think of was 'I would not like to get sick here'. You would be dead by the time anyone reached you, that's providing someone around actually notices that they haven't seen you. Considering neighbours are nearly a 10 minute car drive between each other, I highly doubt that possibility. Its peaceful, its primitive, its nearly untouched by humans, and its breathtakingly beautiful, but its also great to go back to reality.

After an amazing mexican dinner in the Ross Hotel, followed by cocktails, beers, and a lot more singing in pubs, we tottered back to our hostel room feeling very light and happy. The following day we headed off to Killorglin where the 400th annual Puck Fair was being held. This basically involved an entire small Irish town shutting down to celebrate a goat. Yes, like a baahing bleating goat. A male one, which they crown (with an actual goat crown) and place him up three stories on a scaffolding for three days where people can see him sit and chew. It is all connected to a story where the town was about to be invaded and a goat warned the town of the incoming invaders and saved the people. Now its more about the stalls and pet show and less about the goat. But overall, its a great place to be. The atmosphere is great, especially in the sunshine, and the streets are filled with the sound of children. Irish trad music leaks out from the numerous pubs, and mixes with the sounds of pounding feet as the hundreds of people in the packed bars stamp their feet to the music. The place looks great with all its flowers and everyone is in a fantastic mood.

From here we took a long drive up through the Conor Pass which has the most amazing coastal road looking out onto the Inis islands. There was a lot of taking pictures out of moving cars and squeezing past brand new rental cars driven by French people who were questioning their own sanity for driving up there. From there it was back to reality as I had to drive home to be in work the next day.

Coming home though, I had three hours alone to think, and it occured to me how we always seem to think that something different is better than what we have already. When we think holiday, we think in Celtic Tiger mode , which means sun, sand, sea. But why does this have to be 4000 kms away? We have that here ..... ok so the sun is rare, but we have a lot to offer. Ireland is genuinely the most beautiful country I have ever seen. Its breathtakingly stunning in so many ways.

I realised that this is what my blog is about. Its not just about Thailand, or Cambodia, or Vietnam. Its like it says on the tin; 'Wilde Child of the Celtic Tiger'. I am the generation who is crawling into adulthood post booming economy. I am the one finding my way, and realising that the life I was promised of money and nice holidays and a good career is all gone. Its now taxes on taxes, trebled cost of education, reform of social ideas, a country that is in a worse state than it has ever been in, and its my job to adjust to that. I was born in the Celtic Tiger (Irelands most successful economic time), and now its gone. We need to adjust, and whether that adjusting involved going to Thailand for 8 months in search of a better life, or holidays for three days three hours down the road to get away from a rat race, its adjusting and it has to be done. This blog will continue, and it will continue to tell the story of one girl surrounded by change. Everyday this country is changing, is fighting, and this blog is my story of it.

Slán.