“You’re Very Welcome.” This is how the Irish greet you as they open their front door and lead you into their home. They offer to bring you a cup of hot tea and fresh-baked ginger cookies and ask about your travels, your homeland, and how you like their country. They are very proud of this country of theirs, and with good reason. You would be hard pressed to find a place with greener pastures, fresher air, and friendlier people.
My friend Val and I traveled to Ireland and toured the southern half of the island, driving from Dublin on the east coast to just outside of Galway on the west coast. We visited the wooded slopes of the Wicklow Mountains, the Medieval town of Kilkenny, the Rock of Cashel (a centuries old fortress of Irish kings), the stunningly beautiful Killarney National Park, the Dingle Peninsula and famous Cliffs of Moher, the haunting Connemara with her valleys and loughs, “millionaire row” Howth with gorgeous houses overlooking the harbor, and busy Dublin, a mix of modern and ancient all rolled into one. By logging nearly 1,000 miles in our trusty Euro-car, we learned how to drive on the left side of the road and became intimately familiar with how scary those tiny, blind-corner Irish roads really are (there’s a reason why tourists often bring back their rentals with missing side mirrors). Despite close calls with a bus, a sheep, a stone wall, and a few parked cars, we were happy with our decision to drive off the beaten path.
From tiny villages and stone cottages to rolling hills and rousing drinking songs, Ireland fulfilled all of my expectations and more. We ate fish and chips at pubs and listened to traditional live music. We shook off wet raincoats and drank hot tea by the fire. We ate homemade apple tarts and Sunday cake (bunt cake) and Irish soda bread dipped in chowder. We watched a rancher round up his sheep with dogs trained to respond to his calls and whistles. We stepped back in time by sleeping in a centuries-old manor house, the smell of wood-fired smoke drifting up the winding staircase and into our rooms. We passed through Irish-speaking (or “Gaelic” as the non-Irish refer to it) communities. We walked down the aisle of a thousand-year-old church and through Medieval cemeteries adorned with Celtic crosses. We got lost, took back roads, hiked on cliffs, petted sheep, slept in a thatched cottage, talked with fishermen, ate traditional Irish breakfast with blood pudding, crossed the Shannon River in a ferry, marveled at the florescent green fields, and met some lovely people.
Thank you, Ireland, for making us feel very, very welcome.
