Biking through County Clare

12-13 April 2009

Biking through County Clare

We awoke early on Sunday morning to catch our train up to Ennis in County Clare, another few hours north of where we slept in Tralee. Although it was earlier than the posted hostel breakfast time, the nice guy who worked reception (and chatted me up about his diabetes the night before) told us where the key to the kitchen was hidden and said to help ourselves to cereal and toast. After filling our stomachs, we high-tailed it to the train station and settled in. Before Ennis, we had to make two transfers, one at Limerick Junction and the other at Limerick. The town of Limerick goes by the nickname of “Stab City” because it is one of the most dangerous in all of the Republic of Ireland. I have been reading the book, “Angela’s Ashes” while here in Ireland (I highly recommend it) and that also takes place in Limerick and certainly doesn’t paint the prettiest picture of the city either. So that being said, we didn’t venture out of the train station during our 45 minute “layover” before going to Ennis. The majority of the other train passengers were predominantly male and wearing red & blue jerseys. It certainly appeared that a game was going on in Limerick today. After disembarking the train, we headed to the pub in the station and I got in the queue to order a little breakfast croissant. An older man behind me in line looked familiar from the train and he said to me in a cheery voice, “Hello lady sitting across from me on the train!” He said, “You aren’t from around here, are you?” To which, of course, I answered, “No” and told him I was from New Jersey. He said, “Ah! New Jersey! Frank Sinatra, Hoboken!” I said, “Yes, in fact I lived in Hoboken!” He turned to his friends behind him and said, “She’s from Hoboken!” He went on to tell me that they were all there in Limerick for a rugby game, Ireland vs. an English team. Whenever we say we are from NJ, there is surely an Irish person that knows someone there. I guess with all of the immigration to the east coast of the US it isn’t surprising!

Soon enough we are in Ennis and from there we have to take a train another hours or 2 up to a tiny town called Doolin. Doolin is on the coast of County Clare and about 12km from the famous Cliffs of Moher which is really the reason we are going up there at all. The sun came out as we were on the bus and it looked like a beautiful day as well as gorgeous country all around us. The bus stop in Doolin was conveniently located directly across the street from the hostel we had booked, called Rainbow Hostel. Ryan looked at me and said, “We are in the middle of nowhere!” There were a few homes and B&B’s but otherwise just green hills and farms as far as the eye could see. We checked into our hostel. It was a family run establishment and we met the dad, Mattie, who showed us to a brightly painted 6-person room. The wife was next door running B&B in the main house and the sons were helping to hang laundry out to dry in the backyard. Mattie rented us two bikes at €7 each for the day and gave us a map of the area. There were ruins scattered all over, some of them ancient, some just old buildings and churches. He said he would be conducting a sunset walking tour along the coast and explaining the history of the area as well as the local fauna and flora. We said we’d like to be there but had to see what time we returned from visiting the Cliffs of Moher.

The sky was bright blue and the sun was blazing and we were happy to be there in this beautiful country! We rode our bikes just down the street to visit the ruins of a church that was viewable from our hostel. There was a rock wall encircling the church grounds and within it were many Celtic crosses and old tombstones mostly from the 1700s and 1800s. The church walls were mostly left but no roof. Everything was overgrown by grasses and vegetation and it was beautiful!! After that, we rode our bikes a bit further down the country road where I nearly got chased off my bike by a scary looking dog, and parked close to the coastline.

This area of County Clare is called The Burren though I think “barren” would be a better term as many of the mountain and hillsides are bare with only limestone rocks covering the surfaces. It is also littered with abandoned famine towns and buildings and megalithic remains from thousands of years ago. In Doolin, we were near an area called the limestone pavement which really consisted of thin strips of limestone rock covering the ground as if it were a road. This leads all the way out to the sea. As we were walking around exploring, we saw an old bathtub filled with water. As we were inspecting it, an older Irish man approached us and said it was used as a basin to water the cows. He said this area was shared farming land for the farmers in this vicinity. He said, “When I was a little boy, the farmers used to walk their cows down to the river for water.” He recommended we walk further towards the ocean and pointed out a large rock that was apparently some kind of religious marker or tombstone from the prehistoric era. Ryan pointed to another large boulder on the horizon and asked the man if that was also prehistoric. He said, “A witch on the Aran Islands got mad and threw that rock across the sea and there it landed! Or that is the story they told us growing up, really it is a glacial formation from the Ice Age.” We continued to walk and were climbing over rock walls, walking among the limestone pavement. We happened upon another older man with a fishing pole. He said, “Beautiful day isn’t it?” and we started chatting. He said, “You aren’t from around here, are you?” He explained that he had grown up here but since moved to Galway but whenever the weather was nice or he had a break, he loved to come back home and enjoy the countryside and a bit of fishing. After we took a bunch of pictures, we figured we should make our way towards the Cliffs of Moher!

We had a lovely ride through the countryside on our way to the cliffs. We stopped in the tiny main street of Doolin with colorful store fronts, a river, and a white horse grazing. From there, we started to cycle uphill in the direction of the cliffs. The hill became particularly steep right near some castle ruins and I felt like my legs were going to explode. We stopped for some pictures and continued on our way. It seemed like we were on a never-ending hill and I didn’t think I would make it the whole way! Mattie, at the hostel, had said it would just be 1.5 hours by bike and after 1 hour of cycling it seemed we had barely gotten anywhere! The roads were very narrow so we had to really keep an eye out for oncoming traffic on these switchback mountain roads. I realized how ridiculously out of shape I was and had to take quite a few breaks to walk the bike as we continued our ascent. The views were amazing though, as we got higher and higher we could look back down to Doolin, green sloping hills, the castle turret, the cliffs and ocean ahead of us. Almost 3 hours later we were finally approaching the tourist center at the Cliffs of Moher! I never felt happier to get to a place and ditch the bike, already my butt was sore from the seat!

The visitor center is actually built into the Cliffs and therefore the roof is covered with grass! We stopped in at some Celtic jewelry shops firsts and did a bit of shopping finding some unique gifts and souvenirs. We finally made our way just another hundred feet or so up the steps to the very top of the cliffs. The wind was whipping and we had to bundle up again now they we had cooled off from our ride. The cliffs are breathtaking and seem to fall off for miles down into the ocean. They are jagged but this harshness is coupled with green moss and grass which covers much of the cliffside. The cliffs almost look as if they are shrouded in sea mist and you can see birds flying out of crevices in the cliff walls. There is even a small castle-like building on the cliff top as well which was very photogenic. As it was now nearly dinnertime, most of the tourists had left and we were able to have a peaceful experience there. After taking it all in, we figured we’d better start heading back to town as our appetites were starting to build, plus we didn’t want to be cycling those narrow roads in the dark! The idea of going back to Doolin, another 12km, seemed quite daunting as I was exhausted but what choice did we have!

Luckily most of the ride was downhill but on even on the flat parts, I felt like my legs were made of lead! Ryan kept telling me to “hurry up, keep up!” but I kept at my own pace, weak with hunger! All I envisioned while riding was a huge meal and a nice pint of Guinness and that kept me going. A little over an hour later, with dusk upon us, we were back on the main street of Doolin. We went right into Gus O’Connor’s pub. It was warm and toasty inside and totally filled with people and a traditional Irish music session in the backroom. We couldn’t even find a single table at which to sit until a middle-aged couple offered to share their 4 seater with us! We had a delicious meal of salmon and mashed potatoes for me, and fish & chips for Ryan. We had a good conversation with the Irish couple talking about all things from their travels in the US to the Irish healthcare system. Before heading back to the hostel, we enjoyed the music for a few more songs. I would have stayed all night if I wasn’t so exhausted!

When we emerged from the cozy pub, it was cold, damp, and pitch black outside. We walked our bikes the remaining 1 mile to the hostel. The common room of the hostel was full of guests, most of them German, but there were a few Americans from CA. The potbellied stove was burning turf and it was so warm and relaxing in there. Since it was Easter Sunday, I talked to family at home as they sat around the dinner table…I wished we could all be together either here or at home. After a warm shower, we fell right asleep in our bunk beds!

We ended up sleeping in the next morning because when we first awoke, it was grey and rainy. The Irish couple from the previous night had told us that today would be bad weather so instead of getting up early to take a ferry to the Aran Islands, we opted for sleep. By the time we packed up and left the hostel though, the weather was amazing again, but at this point it was too late for the ferry. We walked down the road to McGann’s pub and enjoyed a hearty and filling full Irish breakfast including eggs, sausage, rashers (aka bacon), blood sausage, beans, toast and tea! Afterwards, we walked down to the Doolin harbor and explored the many tide pools in the limestone rocks at the shore. We had great views from there back to the cliffs, the castle, and even a waterfall into the ocean. We were upset we missed seeing the Aran Islands, but it was nice to have a slow paced morning too and just enjoy the sights and sounds of the country.

At 1:45 we caught one of the few buses out of Doolin, this time headed to the city of Galway about one and a half hours away. The drive through the Burren was quite beautiful as well. We only had about 2 hours in Galway before our train back to Dublin. We took a stroll through this lively city which was full of people all off from work for Easter Monday. We walked by a fountain in a park which had obviously been filled with soap and there were suds everywhere. The kids were going crazy over it!! We then made our way down the pedestrian shopping streets. The city has quite a young feeling with a large university population. There were loads of people sitting outside the pubs enjoying food or drink in the sunshine. Galway is the birthplace of the Claddagh ring which is quite popular in the US as well as here. It is the two hands holding a heart in between them. We went to the shop where they were first sold as jewelry! After a quick meal of crepes for a light dinner, we headed back to the train station. We had a fabulous weekend exploring western Ireland but we were thoroughly exhausted and happy to head back “home” to Dublin!

An Daingean Peninsula

11 April 2009

An Daingean Peninsula

On Saturday morning we got up at a decent hour. Ryan had survived his first official experience in a dorm room hostel. There was a bit if a queue to use the showers and they were far from luxury (lukewarm water with a push button controlling the faucet). The communal hostel kitchen was full of European backpackers toasting bread, preparing eggs and bacon (or rashers as they call them here). We collected our things, checked out, and quickly returned out bikes to O’Sullivan’s rentals and made our way to the bus station. We had a 10am bus north of Kerry to the Dingle peninsula with a transfer first in Tralee. First a bit about Dingle, it was actually decreed that the name should only be An Daingean which is Irish (gaelic) for Dingle. This area in Ireland is one of the more gaelic areas and has one of the highest percentages of Irish speakers. Politicians in the area also decreed that the signs should only be written in Irish and not English! The bus ride to Tralee was about an hour and a half and the scenery was beautiful still with the lush farmland and hills in every direction. The bus driver must have liked Tom Jones because it was all we heard for the entire journey!

Once we arrived in Tralee, one of the main towns on the Dingle Peninsula, we had a 45 minute wait until our bus to Dingle. We pulled out our umbrellas and brought our bags to Finnegan’s Hostel where we would be staying that night. Tralee was definitely not as beautiful as Killarney, but still had lots of pubs and shops lining the streets. Our hostel was in an old building with ivy covering it. The woman working there let us go upstairs and pick beds in the 12 person room! Ryan and I snagged one in the corner by the window and left again. There was a French street fair going on right outside the hostel and I wanted to get a crepe so badly! But €4 for a crepe seemed a bit steep! So back to the train station we went and hopped abroad the bus to Dingle town.

The ride was about another hour! It made stops along the way to pick people up. This one man got on halfway through and he truly looked like a leprechaun! He was about 4 feet tall, with red hair and a tweed hat! When we arrived in Dingle, Ryan said he just had to have a picture with the leprechaun! I felt a little doing it, but Ryan approached him and said, “You have the most Irish face in all of Ireland! Can we take a picture with you?” So we did…and then he chatted is up, telling us all about how he was visiting his mother in hospital here in Dingle for her second stroke, telling us about his visit to the US and even Johns Hopkins medical centre. He clearly would have been happy to talk to us all day but we said our thanks and goodbyes knowing that we had just a short day in Dingle and a lot to see!

Dingle is a very quaint town with colourful store fronts, mountain views, and a harbour with small fishing boats. We stopped at the tourist office first to figure out how we could somehow get a tour around the peninsula, but they had just gone on their lunch break 5 minutes ago and wouldn’t return for 1 hour! So we talked around the town, we stopped in the shops, saw a convent and a few churches, visited a bakery where we had carrot cake and apple pastry with fresh cream. The sun was out and the town’s homes and shops were painted every colour of the rainbow!

Back at the tourist office, we discovered the only way we could see the rest of the peninsula would be to hire a tour guide. We debated our options and pricing and finally ended up contacting a man named Denis Ryan who takes tourists around the peninsula on 2-3 hour tours in his car so he can only fit 4 people at most. For €20 a person we basically had our own personal tour of Dingle peninsula! Denis was an older man who was originally from Dublin but had moved out to Dingle for the beauty and work with tourism. He said the majority of the tourists he’d driven had been Americans and most of them with some kind of Irish ancestry. He said the winter was a tough time with tourism at a low and now with the recession to boot. Normally he wouldn’t have taken tourists out as late as us (3pm) but as he said, one must “make hay while the sun shines.” He said that most people in this area need to have 2-3 jobs to make ends meet. He also works as a musician playing traditional Irish music at large venues and also uses his car as a taxi to take people to the Kerry airport and other places.

We had a lovely afternoon with Denis. He showed us all of the main sites on the peninsula. The weather was absolutely perfect too! Dingle is full of mountains and rolling hills much like Kerry. The ancient rock walls were much more impressive here and the hillsides looked like they were cut into puzzle pieces from below. The road hugged the edge of the cliffs so we always had views of the ocean or bay. Dingle is also known for having many prehistoric “beehive” huts dotting the landscape. These stone structures were built in the 5th-8th century and they are not sure exactly what they were used for-perhaps shelter, perhaps religious purposes. They are quite well preserved as the Irish have respected them, built around them, and more or less left them alone for centuries. We also saw the ruins of many stone houses that are now overgrown with grass and vegetation. Denis explained that during the Great Famine, the English would burn down lots of homes. So on top of the potato blight induced famine, people were also being driven out of their homes and killed by the English.

Denis let us stop and take pictures whenever we wanted to. We stopped at Slea Head which is the most western point in all of Ireland and Europe. We gazed out in the direction of home but all we saw was the sun glittering of the water. We could also see the Blasket Islands from this viewpoint. There are a few Blasket Islands that are mainly just sheer rock and inhabited just by birds, however the Great Blasket Island does have human inhabitants. The small town is only located on the eastern face of the island as the other parts are too windy and harsh for living. The inhabitants are cut off from the mainland during the winter as the sea is just too rough for boats to land on the jagged shores. Back in the 1960’s the majority of the Blasket Island population all immigrated to Springfield, MA. They were clearly fed up with being isolated on an island for 5 months of a year and living with just the same few hundred people their whole lives! Denis told us to look down at the ocean below, that at this time of year they can usually see basking sharks trolling for fish right under the cliff. He said they are enormous too! We were not fortunate enough to see one though.

Our next stop was at a beach that was made famous by an Irish movie called “Ryan’s Daughter” as it was filmed right in this area. The sandy beach was just a small cut out in the cliffside, reminded me a bit of some of the California beaches. There were people actually swimming that day in the warm weather but I can only imagine how cold that water must have been! The ocean had a blue almost tropical colour to it and the views were spectacular with the mountains, rock walls, white cottages beyond.

The last stop we made before heading back to Dingle was at Gallarus Oratory. It is a stone structure also built in the 5th-8th century by a monk, it has the shape of an upside down boat. After all of these years, the structure has never had to been restored or fixed and is still in perfect condition. It is very tiny inside, maybe 9ft by 6ft and dark, cool and damp. Denis told us to look up at the ceiling inside. The stones never overlap and no one really quite knows how the roof supports itself! Next to the building, there is a old gravesite with stones covering the top, this was to prevent the animals from digging up the bodies way back when.

As we headed back into town, Denis drove by his own home and tooted the horn for his wife who works there making pottery. We definitely felt like we could have spent more time in this beautiful peninsula on this gorgeous day, but we had to start making our way back to Tralee. After we said goodbye to Denis, we had an early dinner at a pub called John Benny’s where we were sure to order seafood to eat! At 7pm, we met another taxi driver named Sean who drove us 45 minutes back to Tralee (as the last bus was hours ago). It wasn’t cheap but it was our only option! Back at our hostel, we hung out in the common room watching some TV with the other guests. There was a music show on and it was all in Irish with English subtitles! I had a long chat with the guy who was working at the hostel while I used the internet connection. He was telling me all about the crazy people that stay at the hostel, his diabetes and so on. The Irish are very quick to open up to you and tell you all about their lives. After another long day, we slept well in our bunk beds ready for another day!

Good Friday at the Ring of Kerry

9-10 April 2009

Good Friday at the Ring of Kerry

One of the nice things about being in a Catholic country is that you get a 4 day weekend for Easter! Ryan and I decided to make the most of this time and travel out to the west coast of Ireland which we had heard has beautiful landscape. We booked an evening train out of Heuston Station (on the opposite side of Dublin from where we live). We had even reserved seats ahead of time so when we boarded, we had to enter a specific car and find out seats. I was impressed that there was a little digital display above our seats with both of our names on it! Who says the Irish trains are no good?

Unfortunately the 8pm train that we took did not go directly to the town of Killarney but had a 20 minute stop in the town of Mallow. It was quite late, almost midnight, when we arrived in Killarney and very quiet. The first thing we saw when we stepped out of the train station was a church with a huge spire, very pretty. As we made our way towards our hostel, the town seemed to wake up. There were brightly painted pubs lining the streets with the sounds of traditional Irish music resonating out to the streets. The fish and chip shops were filled with hungry drinkers. Tourists and locals were roaming the streets. We were tempted to join their revelry but figured we’d better at least find our hostel first. We were following our travel guide map to Neptune Hostel but after walking around one block in circles looking for Bishops Lane…we were feeling frustrated. Bishop’s Lane just didn’t seem to exist as the map said it would! I called the hostel and the man working there actually came outside and showed us the way…turned out our book’s map was a little off. Since Ryan had never stayed in a hostel before, I booked us a private room which was about €40. It was clean, cozy and even had a skylight. After all the time we wasted getting lost, we figured we should call it a night at get some sleep for a busy day tomorrow.

The next morning I awoke feeling refreshed and ready to go! Ryan, on the other hand, was not as happy. Having stayed at dozens of hostels myself, I have learned to always bring earplugs and even an eye patch for shared rooms. I suppose I should have clued Ryan in to this trick…he was up all night listening to our neighbors going at it in the next room with the headboard banging away. So needless to say, it took a little bit of coaxing and harassing to get Ryan’s tired self out of bed that day.

Now the reason we came out to Killarney, which is in County Kerry, was to see the “Ring of Kerry.” This is a 175 km road that makes a circular loop around the Iveragh Peninsula, which is scenic and rugged. Since we had no car of our own, the only other option to see it all was to join a guided tour. Our hostel offered a reasonably priced tour at €17 per person. Before it departed at 10am, we took a stroll around Killarney on a beautiful morning. Killarney is an adorable little town with colorful shops and pubs, narrow alleys, cute cafes. We ate a quick breakfast in a sunny café…I had tea and scones, and Ryan had his first Irish breakfast…lots of protein!

Our tour bus left promptly as scheduled at 10:15…luckily we were not on one of those gigantic tour buses, but a smaller one holding maybe 20 people. I would say they majority were Americans with a few other Europeans mixed in. The tour guide was a humorous older Kerryman with a strong, at times difficult to understand, Irish accent. He pointed out different things along the way including some of the Irish folklore like “fairy forts” and “fairy trees.” The Irish are quite superstitious people, even to this day. They will not cut down a lone tree in a field as it is called a fairy tree, and if one cuts it down, the fairies will bestow bad luck upon 3 generations of the family. The bus driver said that this is perhaps why the Kennedy’s have had such a tragic family…their ancestor in Ireland was said to have cut down a fairy tree! Fairy forts are basically crumbled ruins of old stone buildings now overgrown with vegetation…also bad luck to mess with these!

The first stop that we took on the tour, was to a place called the Kerry Bog Village. This was most certainly the biggest tourist trap of all! It was a corny little “village” of a few cute thatched roof homes set up to look as they would have in I guess the 1800s even with mannequins. The bogs, however, are a big presence in Ireland. A decently large percentage of Ireland is covered in bog land and this is where they get peat. Peat is basically partially decayed vegetation and is actually an intermediary step in the production of coal. When peat is dried, also called turf, it is used as fuel and 20% of the heating in Ireland comes from peat! It has a very distinctive smell when burned, somewhere between coal and wood, but very much its own aroma. The bogs are great at preserving things…the tour guided talked about how they found a 300 year old barrel of butter in the peat bog which was still as fresh as the day it was buried. Bodies, all over the world, have been found perfectly preserved in bogs. He also said they found a body in Ireland in a bog and started a forensic investigation on it as the body was so fresh, they assumed it a murder victim. They later discovered it was something like 1000 or 2000 years old, still in perfect condition!

The Ring of Kerry tour lasted for 6 hours and we made numerous stops along the way. We saw beautiful scenery with rolling green hills dotted with sheep, cows, and goats and lined with ancient rock walls. The hills were also covered in yellow flower buses called furze (aka. gorse). There were pointy mountains brown mountains including some of the highest in Ireland, MacGillycuddy’s Reeks. We had views of the Atlantic Ocean, Dingle bay and peninsula and the Skellig Islands. I loved seeing all of the farm animals along the road. Since it is spring, there were lots of tiny sheep and calves frolicking about. We had a lunch stop in a town called Waterville. The sun was bright and the sky spotted with fluffy clouds. Ryan and I walked along the beach at Waterville and took lots of beautiful photos. It was pretty quiet that day as it was Good Friday and many places were closed. We decided to opt out of the pub lunch with the tour group and just grabbed some sandwiches and snacks at a convenience store and ate outside. The shoreline offered beautiful views of the green mountains, Skellig Islands, Derrynane Bay, and Beara peninsula.

We made an afternoon stop at the town of Sneam which was very charming with a river running through it. As soon as we got off the bus it seemed the skys opened up and got not only rain but also hale! Luckily it did not last long and we were able to explore the quaint colorful town. It had a nice church with some rock formations behind it. We ended the day by driving through the beautiful Killarney National Park, stopping for a great view from up in the mountains to the lakes down below.

When we returned from a great tour, Ryan and I felt inspired to visit the Skellig Islands, namely Skellig Michael. It is a jagged rocky island off the Iveragh Peninsula that was inhabited by monks in the 7th-8th century! At this time of year, you can also see puffins on the island. It is supposed to be otherworldly and we desperately wanted to go…but unfortunately we realized that without a car, it was nearly impossible for us to get back out to the tip of the peninsula to catch an early morning ferry to the island. Apparently on many days, the ferries can not even depart as the water can be much too choppy. So instead we decided to book another night at Neptune hostel, this time in a shared dorm room, and spend the evening biking around Killarney. We negotiated and got 2 bikes for €14 for the day. We embarked on probably a 14km or more round trip tour of Killarney National Park. Our main points of interest were Ross Castle and Muckross House but we enjoyed all of the beautiful green scenery along the way!

Ross Castle was home to the O'Donoghue can and was built in the 1400s. It is located right on the edge of Lough Leane and has gorgeous views. After exploring that, we headed further into the park to Muckross house. Along the way we saw Japanese deer in the fields and Muckross Abbey. By the time we got to Muckross it was probably about 7pm so there were virtually no tourists around. It is a beautiful mansion built in the 1800s by Scottish architect for an Irish politician. The house is nestled in a valley with green mountains beyond. It has a lovely garden with flowering trees and colorful tulips and even a small glass conservatory. We could have spent a lot of time there but knowing that it would be getting dark around 8pm and we had a ways to go, we headed back on our bikes. I was quickly realizing how out of shape I was and felt exhausted! When we finally made it back to town, we headed out for some dinner. Unfortunately all of the pubs were closed for Good Friday…the stores are not even allowed to sell alcohol. We ended up eating at a Pizza Milano restaurant and wolfed down our food. We were so tired that we had no problem sleeping in our 8 bed shared hostel room. This was Ryan’s now official first hostel experience and he said it wasn’t as bad as he expected!!

Dublin Diary

6-7 April 2009

Dublin Diary

I have decided to revive my travel writings from my new adventure in Ireland! Ryan and I arrived in Dublin early Monday morning. We had quite a nice flight over where Ryan and I got a whole exit row to ourselves! However even with the bit of sleep I got on the plane, I was not feeling very rested. We took the AirLink bus to O’Connell St which is one of the main drags in Dublin. From there it was just a few blocks walk to our hotel. As luck would have it, the room was already available at that early hour. Ryan and I made the mistake of passing out for about 2 hours that morning in the room. Those jetlag naps are always nasty things to wake up from! When we finally came out of zombie state, we walked over to sort some things out at the hospital where Ryan would be working, the Royal Victoria Eye and Ear Hospital. We were able to enjoy some of the sights and sounds of Dublin on the way. The city was quite busy with pedestrians during the lunch hour. Dublin definitely has a small city feeling but is still quite vibrant! We stopped along the way for lunch at a beautiful French bistro that oddly enough was serving Irish food. With our stomachs full, we crossed St. Stephens Green and in a few more blocks were at the hospital.

The Eye and Ear Hospital is a beautiful old building. It certainly is picture worthy in itself! As we walked in the front doors, the security guard was already expecting us and in a few moments we were greeted by Frances, the administrative person for the Ophthalmology department. What we thought was going to be maybe a 20 minute visit, turned into almost a 2 hour stay! Frances was going overboard to try to help us settle in. She was concerned about where we would live, especially when she heard we made an appointment off of an internet ad. She said, “There is a myth that the Irish people are so friendly and helpful, and we are, but I don’t want you thinking that and getting taken advantage of!” She was calling all over trying to get us a spot in some of the Trinity College dorm housing, but in the end it didn’t work out. When it got close to the time of the appointment for the apartment, she took it upon herself to call our contact person and tell her we would be late! Then she got us tea! She and one of the residents even tried to help find me a spot in a different hospital so I wouldn’t have to commute to the suburbs! We were so impressed by how they just bent over backwards to help and accommodate us. Very kind people here!

We hopped the bus back to the northside of Dublin to meet Nathalie, a French woman who manages a bunch of apartments in the city. The first was one we saw was a studio apartment that was even smaller than any that I have seen in NYC—and for about $900/month. After that she drove us over to see another spot. Nathalie was very friendly and kind woman but my God, she had the worst body odor I have smelled in a long time. The whole ride in her car we felt that we had to hold our breath from the stench-Ryan was making faces at me in the side-view mirror! We settled on the last apartment she showed us, which was about 2 blocks from Connolly station, one of the main train stations. Now when I say apartment, what I really mean is room! The room is about 8x8 feet in size and part of that space is a small full bathroom. There is literally just enough room for a futon bed, a small fridge, and a tiny bedside table. No closet, no real storage! There is a shared full kitchen which surprisingly had a washer AND dryer! All over in good condition but wow, never thought I would end up in a room so small! We were happy to leave the apartment after securing it, and return to the hotel for one night in a king sized bed! Before drifting off to sleep, we took a stroll across the River Liffey to the Temple Bar area, a great nightlife spot, and ate Irish Boxty’s (like a potato crepe with meat filling) for dinner, chased down by a pint of Murphy’s stout! We could barely muster enough strength to walk back to the hotel!

The following day was our first day on the job! Ryan and I parted ways at O’Connell Street to take our respective buses. I was still a bit unsure of how I was getting to Connolly Hospital where I would be doing my Endocrinology rotation. Connolly Hospital is a smaller hospital affiliated with the Royal College of Surgeons of Ireland. Since I planned this rotation at the last minute, this is the only place they could accommodate me. It is located in Blanchardstown about 7 miles from the center of Dublin. As I was walking down O’Connell Street with my breakfast in hand, I saw my bus approaching, tried to make a run for it, but missed it still. This was quite unfortunate as I had to wait almost 30 minutes for the next bus! At last it arrived, and I verified with the driver that I would in fact get to Connolly hospital. He said it would take about 45 minutes. It wasn’t long before the scenery changed from urban Dublin to suburban outskirts. There were cute brick houses, and fancy modern apartment buildings, we passed Bristol-Meyers-Squibb and some other large companies, and all of a sudden, the bus stopped and turned off! The driver informed me that we were in Tyrellstown at the terminus of the bus! I said, “Did you stop at the hospital?” He said, “Yes, I drove right up to it, were you sleeping?” I most definitely was not! He felt bad and tried to help me find the way back as he would now be running on a different route. He said the buses to the hospital don’t come often though so it could be another 30 minutes! I was not feeling so happy until I decided to call the bus’ customer service number. I was very relieved when the operator told me that the next bus back would arrive in 5 minutes! I literally just made it to the bus stop as it pulled up…phew! This time I hung near the driver and made sure he told me when to get off the bus!

Finally I arrived at John Connolly Memorial Hospital! It was a nice enough looking hospital, some what off in the middle of nowhere with lots of verdant grass around. I errantly wandered the campus until I was directed to the Academic Centre. I met Sandra, the very friendly secretary of Professor Seamus Sreenan. She was also very eager to help me find my way to the endocrinology team at the hospital. Sandra even walked me across the street to the hospital and up to the wards where the team was rounding! You don’t often get that kind of treatment at home! There is quite a large group working on the Endocrinology team: 5 residents (however the use the British terminology like registrar, SHO…), 4 RCSI students, and a consultant (aka. attending) named Dr. McDermott. Everyone was very friendly and I was quickly part of the group. Even though it was already late in the morning, I got to see a few patients on rounds…they all had names like Patrick, William, and Mary. I even got a free lunch provided by a pharmaceutical rep during a lecture.

I ended the day around 2pm, knowing that we still needed to get settled into our new “apartment.” I decided to venture back via the train this time and so I carefully made my way to the station in Castleknock which was about a 20 minute walk from the hospital. It was a tiny little station located at the edge of a canal with signs advertising for renting canal boats. Unfortunately it appeared the train wouldn’t be going back to Dublin for another 40 minutes so I aborted the plan and walked back to Blanchardstown to take the bus back to O’Connell Street.

In about 30 minutes I was back in the center of town…my new Irish SIM card died on the way which left me in a semi-state of panic without mobile connection to the world! I made my way to the Meteor phone shop for help and they told me it must be my Chinese phone not the SIM card! I gave up on the phone for the time being when I came across a store named Guiney’s which sells linens and house supplies at a cheap price. For about €32 I bought a duvet and a cover, pillows, pillow cases, and sheets. After that I waited for Ryan in the Days Inn lobby until he returned from work. We played around with our SIM cards and discovered that my Chinese SIM card was reliable after all and after a short trip back to the Meteor store, I was back in business!

Now it was time to schlep our 3 suitcases and new linen supplies to our new apartment. It was about a 15 minute walk (which turned into 30 when we got lost) down Talbot street, up Amiens street to our new place on Killarney street. We weren’t quite sure how we would fit all of our things into a room that was only 8x8 ft! In fact it was like solving a puzzle to find the right spots for our rectangular and bulky suitcases. When we unwrapped our new linens we learned that they were far from high thread count Egyptian cotton…and were more like plastic-y polyester! Nonetheless, I have to say it felt good to finally have a home in Dublin! We finished the night off with some bangers and mash and pints of Guinness in a pub down the street with a lively crowd watching a football match!

How to be British

2 March 2009

How to be British

While Anna and I were in Canterbury we stopped in a Waterstones bookstore where I bought a book called “How to be British” by Martyn Ford & Peter Legon. It looked like a humorous little book and something fun to read on the train ride home. We had a good laugh reading it and it really hit on all of the British cultural stereotypes so well. Here are a few that really hit home for me:

Dress Sense
I remember the first week when I arrived in London it was in the 30s-40s °F out every day, damp, and even with a spot of flurries at one point. I was bundled up in a shin length coat, sweater, scarf wrapped up to my chin, wool gloves and at times a cashmere hat. I would be walking around the streets and watch, in bewilderment, as scantily clad Brits meandered around town as if it were a spring day! On a cold weekend night, it was quite common to see young women in mini skirts barely covering their derrieres and high heels without stockings or leggings. There were the men in exercise shorts. Or even just those that walked around in a fleece or light coat when most of us would be wrapped up tightly in our winter woolies and still shivering! As the book says, “this is an example of our famous British toughness.”
Besides their deficiency of clothing during the winter, the Brits do have their own sense of fashion. There are the cute old men in tweed hats and herring bone coats. There are the old women wearing long housecoats. You see the punk rockers, the school uniforms, the hiphop style, the preppie style and virtually anything else under the sun. A few items that seemed to be trendy at the moment were bold colored leggings for women (magenta, cerulean, emerald green) under mini skirts.

Tea
To quote the book, “OK, so our trains may not run on time, our National Health Service is feeling the pressure, our schools don’t always get top marks, but at least we still make the best cup of tea in the world!” The British truly love their tea, it is not just a drink for ladies in wide-brimmed hats and flowery dresses, it is a way of life for man and woman alike. Tea is usually a blend of black teas, most traditionally served with milk and sometimes sugar. The teabags I got at Fortnum & Mason offer directions for brewing the perfect “cuppa” and this included, “Warming the teapot before use, using freshly boiled water, milk added first, and then sugar last.” Tea time is scheduled into everyone’s day. There is tea first thing in the morning, and perhaps another one around 3 or 4pm. In the hospital, we had our tea with biscuits during rounds. When I studied at University of Sussex, there was a tea room in each building on campus so that a good cup was always available. The British seem to think that a good cuppa tea solves everything. “Oh, you have had a bad day? How about a cuppa tea?” or “You’re tired? Nothing like a cuppa tea!” or “Haven’t seen you in awhile, shall we have a spot of tea?” Anna told me a story of when she went to visit a British friend in the summer. They had spent a sweaty day walking around London in 90 degree weather and her friend’s parents still insisted on frequent breaks for hot cups of tea!

Complaining
“In order to be British, or at any rate to pass unnoticed in British society, the visitor must learn not to make a fuss. A fuss is something that the true Brit cannot stand. It is nearly as bad as a scene, and in the same category as drawing attention to yourself.” When I went to see a West End performance of Oliver, I sat next to two 70 year old women from Northern England. They told me a story of how they had gone to Las Vegas a few years back to see Celine Dion perform. That weekend there was a celebrity golf tournament in town, so at the show there were many celebrities in the front rows. When Celine came out, she spent the first 45 minutes of the “show” having a chat with all of her celeb buddies in the crowd. The women told me that the crowd was in a uproar after so much time passed and she failed to start her performance. They screamed and booed and carried on until she took to the stage. The English women told me that they recognized that a group of British fans would not have such a strong response, they would just wait patiently for Celine to finish her conversations and start the show even if 45 minutes late. These women respected the Americans for speaking up so loudly and at the end, they were jeering Celine along with the Yanks.

Politeness
The British are known the world over for their good manners. In fact words just sound that much more polite when they are pronounced with a British accent. “Sorry is one of the most important words in the vocabulary of any true Brit.” The word sorry is a common way to start or end a sentence. “Sorry prepares a path, excuses faults, calms nerves and wipes the slate clean so that we can all be jolly together and not get upset.” Besides “sorry,” the words “please” and “thank you” are used most frequently. To the average North Easterner like myself, it is a new concept, however a refreshing one. When I was in the ICU, there was a patient close to 80 years old who had delirium secondary to sepsis on top of a few other issues. In her state of confusion, she would constantly moan and groan and was mainly fixated on water. Like a broken record she would say, “Ohhh please, may I have some water (waa-taah) please! Please, give me some water else I shall die!” She still managed to be polite even when delirious!
There was a sign outside of Charlotte’s flat that read, “Do not let your dog foul on the grassed area.” Can you possibly think of a more discreet and polite way to tell people not to let their dogs crap on the lawn??

The Bathroom
“Where other nationalities have to mange with a single mixer tap over the sink or washbasin, we British have two – one for washing the other for drinking from. Keeping them separate is both sensible & hygienic. And for those who wish to mix the two to a temperature of their own liking, we invented the plug which fits securely into the basin conveniently attached to a chain.” I still haven’t got the answer to this one…but on almost every single sink in England, there are separate taps for hot and cold. Inevitably one will be washing one’s hands and before one can get the soap off, one has either scalded them on the hot tap or made them numb with the cold. To remedy this, I have tried to turn both taps on simultaneously and quickly swoosh my hands from hot to cold and back and forth. This wasn’t too successful either. In some of the few single tap sinks I have used, I noticed that the water essentially came out in two jets within the faucet with one half being cold and one hot with some mixing in the middle.
The book included a humorous diagram of the typical British bathroom which included a tub identical to Charlotte’s with the separate hot and cold tabs and a sign hanging from the shower head on the wall saying “Out of Order.” The toilet in the drawing is the type with the water reservoir located above it on the wall and a chain to flush it. My favorite detail to the drawing is the man sitting in the bathroom cabinet reading a book with the caption, “Guest Room overspill.”

These little idiosyncrasies are just a few of the reasons that the British are such an endearing people!