Praise of Connemara

In the distance, the vast and desolate valleys of Connemara, leaving Galway well behind and venturing across the land of the Gaeltacht, the Irish Gaelic speakers. Road travelling for the sake of it. Maybe you will get lost, maybe you will not. Purple-flowered heath covering the sides of every path. Silence. Heavy rain. Then silence again. The shadows of the clouds above chasing each other along the grey slopes. Strong wind. A lost sheep, looking unscared, standing in the middle of the road. Colours ranging from purple to all shades of green to intense yellow, depending on the light which struggles to pass through the clouds. A local horse race with a luxurious prize: a kiss. A bell-like sound coming from a nearby village. Lakes are everywhere. The water is so dark it does not seem blue but black. Sometimes you cannot see it, but you hear it and feel it running strongly under the grass you walk on. Peaks hiding in the thick mist. The village of Cong, in the northern shore of Lough Corrib, which John Ford transformed in Innisfree, giving birth to ‘The Quiet Man’. In turn, almost thirty years after, we could enjoy a masterpiece, ‘Innisfree’, the documentary Spanish director José Luis Guerín shot on the location of Ford´s movie. The smiles of two redheaded and freckle-faced kids who wave goodbye to the stranger. Finally, when you thought the day was over, a ray of sunlight will come out of the clouds, perhaps illuminating for a second a solitary hut in the middle of the valley. This will happen for your eyes only, and at that precise moment you will understand the true meaning of the word ‘peace’. You are in Connemara. But be advised, if you remain here long enough, Connemara will be in you.

Photo: Connemara, Ireland, 2007 © Loudsoul

Dingle Bay

In a small pub in the port of Dingle, in Northwest Kerry, a bunch of locals listen to Tony Small, the aged singer from Galway, playing traditional songs with his guitar and the occasional accompaniment of a flutist. Everyone seems to know each other in this warm place. Nice and honest fellows, hard workers, good Irish people. Outside the night is chilly and windy, and here one may easily feel at home. Every new customer is greeted and welcomed with a smile. Countless pints of Guinness beer are ordered and consumed at a steady pace. Couples sit here and there. One of them, an elder one, follows the music with a permanent smile, the two of them slightly moving their white heads to the rhythm, chatting occasionally and exchanging serene love looks. How long have they been together? Both seem to be here and far away at the same time. Perhaps they recall their first dance together. Was it 1954 or 1955? Was it in that old ballroom in Tralee town they used to attend on Saturdays? Or was it during the local festivities at Killorglin, soon before they got married? In between songs, the singer raises his glass of Guinness in a toast to someone sitting among the public. He has just been bought yet another beer. ‘To your health!’, we hear. Soon he will start singing ‘The Shawl of Galway Gray’, and everyone will listen respectfully, enjoying this beautiful and well-known tune. May the wind carry these graceful sounds over the roofs in the port, over the fishermen´s boats and over the dark waters of the Dingle Bay. May the fortune preserve this placid life for the inhabitants of the Dingle Bay

Photo: Dingle Bay, Ireland, 2007 © Loudsoul

The flavour of Irish roads

Driving in Ireland is not an easy task, as there are countless things you may experience when you take the road. First and foremost, you will be in the company of lots of cars, and then more. It seems as if, with their sudden wealth, the Irish flocked to buy any available new car, clogging the existing roads, which were not designed for such a heavy traffic. Then, there are construction works everywhere. On many occasions, a muffin-shaped pavement is the best surface the wheels of your car will move over. In a country in which never ceases to rain, holes here and there -specially in the margins of the road- ensure you will sometimes feel like driving a hovercraft. Finding your way with an Irish map is almost impossible. The proportions employed do not match the real distances, and you will never be sure if the segment ahead is longer or shorter than the one you just left behind. The traffic signs do not help either, and you will find them either uselessly far from a crossroads or right in the middle, when it is too late to decide which way to go and you have just taken the wrong direction. There are also many things you may come across in an Irish road. Stubborn sheeps which will not move no matter how hard you honk, cows, lost pigs, ducks followed by her adorable ducklings, foxes, drunken fellows, bicycles with or without cyclists riding them, countless traffic cones that seem to be randomly scattered for no reason. You may even find yourself driving completely on your own for ages. There is also the weather. You have a bright blue sky over your head, and in the next curve you are under heavy rain, only to re-encounter yourself with the bright morning a few hundred meters away. This is what I call ‘The Pink Panther Effect’, for the poor and rosy feline always had a sort of ‘private’ cloud following and showering her on the cartoon show.

However, the beauty of the Irish landscape, the grass, nearly melting with the sea in the horizon, the rolling hills, the intense blue -almost black- colour of the lakes, the magnitude of the Irish valleys, the shape of the clouds… make any road trip in Ireland a breathtaking experience.

Photo: Dingle Peninsula, Ireland, 2007 © Loudsoul