Jigs and Stew

Our clan decided to buttress their diminished stock of guitars this week, and purchased a decent solid top Brunswick dreadnaught suitable for numerous trips to pubs and schools. The plan is to have an auction at GMIT for all of our material purchases. This will occur during Paul’s last week of school, and he intends to explain to his students that higher bids will result in better final marks. If his scheme succeeds, our new pizza cutter should fetch a healthy sum.

Last night was Paul’s first session with the Galway Irish traditional music open club, Dusty Banjos. They practice every Thursday from 7:00 until 9:00 at the Western. After the last tune, they all pack up their instruments and walked the three blocks to Murty Rabbits (est. 1872) near Eyre Square, to play for another two hours! It turns out that jigs, reels, and hornpipes all sound much sweeter after a couple of pints.

The weather returned to normal Irish (lashing rain) late this week, but still feels like the tropics after seeing the ‘CCO news on-line. Sue is working hard on her laptop by day, but has decided to become a great Irish cook in the evenings. Her repertoire expands each day, including the homemade scalloped potatoes and chops (from Tony the Butcher) she made last night and the best Irish stew ever created (the kind that produces a skating rink of unsaturated fat on the surface after a night in the fridge!). ‘Tanks be to da Lord above for Lipitor.

And now a new feature to our blog. We'll leave you each day (or so) with a link to one of our favorite Irish (or related) songs, this one by Mike Scott and the Waterboys. Crank up your speakers and enjoy!

Ruined Abbeys and Confused Students

Sunday was bleedin’ gorgeous outside if you were a transplanted Minnesotan. We spent the afternoon in Roscam, just a few miles from our house, exploring the ruins of an 8th century church, round tower, and grave yard on Galway Bay. It was a Patrician-era monastic enclave at the quiet end of this natural harbor. Pastoral and peaceful. Until the Vikings found it in the 10th century! The more we learn, the odder it seems for our NFL team to be named after this group of merciless, murdering rapist-pillagers who often kidnapped the survivors of raids only to make them slaves. On second thought, maybe it’s not so inappropriate!

Paul started class on Monday. The students don’t know what to make of him, but this is nothing new! The European system is very different, but the students seem to be willing to meet him half way. On the first day, he gave the lone Englishman in the class guff about not being Irish like ‘the rest of us,’ and suggested he sit off to the side. The kid turned pale before he realized Paul was joking. Apparently, jocularity ain’t part of the Irish professorate repertoire! The American has arrived.

In their ‘getting to know each other session’ on Monday, Paul asked students what they intended to ‘do after they finished their B.Sc. degree? Most answers were infused with hope and dreams of a future in the marine sciences. Kieran, however, who hails from the rascal-producing city of Cork, said matter-of-factly, “What do I want to do after graduation? All of ‘da foy’n ladies, to be sure.” He’s only been to class once, but has made a strong impression on his teacher.

Connemara Ghosts

The sun has been shining and the sea calm for four of the past five days. The tiny native people think we’re nuts as we shed our jackets in the 48 degree Irish balm. Last Saturday we ventured west along the coast and then inland to explore the Connemara – Ireland’s desolate, rocky Gaeltacht region. This ancient pagan place was one of the only havens for generations of Celtic Irish fleeing the oppression of Norman and English Earls from the 12th century and well into the 20th. Those invaders considered the Connemara largely a waste of time because of its near-uselessness as farmland. No wonder. It's tough to plow basalt and granite.

Where there isn’t rock outcrop there is bog. Mountains shoot to the sky throughout, and there are enormous expanses of quiet, people-free, wide open space. It is magnificent, spare, and inspiring. And of course, if one happens to be a biologist, the Connemara is a treasure trove of Irish natural history. Thatched-roof stone houses that are still heated with turf fires abound out there, and they are not tourist attractions. Paul ‘borrowed’ some freshly cut turf 'logs' from one of the thousands of drying piles found throughout rural Ireland. His family did not appreciate his dissertation on the nature of peat/turf and the morphology of the rich fens and bogs, but he was unrepentant in his glee. They are drying in our house for purposes yet to be revealed.

Sue has been attending Galway’s Hot Yoga studio, where the temperature of the studio is a sweaty 104 degrees F. Gumby loves it, and it makes here peaceful. She’s been Skyping her office regularly, and feels more comfortable about trans-Atlantic telecommuting now. After borrowing 30 kg of books on Microsoft Access from the GMIT library, she has begun the task of rebuilding IRI’s database, too. Last week she made a huge volume of Irish stew using a stock pot borrowed from the Foyle's of Spiddal. It was a huge hit with the men of the teaghlach.

The boys are lovely, as they say, and have settled into the school routine. Each morning at 8:00 – about the time this nation wakes up – we pile into the car and drive across Galway to Sam’s school in Salthill. On the way back to Theo’s digs, we can see the sunrise over Galway Bay. That alone is worth the price of admission!

Barách Úi Bama Nation and Synthetic Hog Blood

Unlike Rush Limbaugh, An Teaghlach Mélchior watched and celebrated the inauguration of President Obama with about 100 American expats and about as many Irish nationals at the King’s Head Pub on High Street. What a place to be – an 800 year old pub with an open coal and turf fire heating the main room and a giant LCD television above the mantle. With a pint of the G in hand (or orange fizzies for Theo and Sam), we toasted and cheered with the crowd. It’s amazing how closely the Irish followed this election. Not surprising, I suppose, because they all consider him part of the Irish diaspora since his great-great-grandad was from Monygall in Co. Offaly. To mark the occasion, Paul heisted his Guinness glass, despite the three Gardai officers outside the entrance.

The boys had a good week at school. Theo is a hit at Scoil Chaitríona, and has made pals with Ruth Ann, Aisling, Ronan, Ryan, and a host of other befreckled redheads. He is learning the tin whistle with his class and aspires to invent ‘Tin Whistle Hero’ for the Wii.

At recess, the children are not allowed to run. However, Theo reported to Sue on Wednesday, ‘I got a game of tag going at recess, Mom.’

‘Tag? Without running?’ said Sue.

‘Yeah. It was walking tag, but it was better than no tag at all.’

Sam, who can see Galway Bay from his bedroom (image below) joined both the Traditional Irish Music Club and the Guitar Club at Colaíste Eínde this week. After the first meeting, another axe player asked him to play a few rock riffs. The next day he asked Sam to join his punk/alt rock band for weekly jam/rehearsal sessions. The kids are about four years older than Sam, but Guitarzan apparently impressed them enough be enlisted. Dad will of course do background checks on the lot of them before agreeing to it, but they seem harmless and drug-free.

As for domestic life, we’re well settled. We had only one minor disappointment this week. After all the mental preparation and gastronomic anticipation of the past year, it turns out that black pudding’s most famous and important ingredient, fresh hog blood, no longer colors or flavors the famed sausage of this land. According to Tony the Butcher, since the great BSE outbreak of 1990’s in Britain the Irish government has prohibited the real deal in black pudding, regardless of its source. According to our cleaver-wielding Connemaran friend, “Can’t even put mutton blood in’t. Got us usin’ artificial blood, and Jay-sus knows what’s in that rot. What’s the point of it all then, yeah? It’s desperate madness, I tell ya. Madness.” His fresh white pudding is untainted, however, and is as good as it gets so long as you don’t know its composition.

Horizontal Hail

We have not seen a weather report for a while, but there’s really no point. The weather is as predictable as a schizophrenic cat. If we predicted gale-driven stinging rain, we’d likely be correct on any given day. Just when the peeks of sun lull you into venturing out side, the North Atlantic turns on you like a rabid badger. It’s an experience to savor, and still beats -20F in the twin cities.

This weekend, we decided to take advantage of our first Saturday morning with sufficient rest to get out and explore the county side. We drove west of Galway to Kinvarra to see the Dunguaire Castle. It was locked up, but we were able to walk around the muddy foot path, slipping and trying not getting blown off the hill. Some ‘foreign tourists’ had scaled the walls and were on the inside, making Sue cringe with jealousy at the photo op deficit.

We continued on, trying to keep our spirits up and came across another ruin along the bike trail the Irish call a main road (these roads are quaint until another car is approaching). Theo and Paul braved the horizontal 00-buckshot hail and wind to check out the old Norman tower. Sue and Sam decided they could see just fine through the windshield. After lunch back at our house and a break in the weather, we decided to drive into downtown Galway on the gorgeous 14th century cobbled streets, which are far too narrow for our little Fiesta, let along the BMW 7s and Land Rovers people bought during the boom. We found some music stores and the 2 Euro shop, Ireland’s version of the Dollar Store. When it was time to figure out where the car was parked, Mother Nature gave us her worst. By the time we our carriage, everyone was soaking wet and could no longer feel their extremities. It’s hurricane season in the west of Eire.

Some have said that western Europe is well beyond the U.S. in being techno-savy and wired. Bollocks. At least in Ireland. Throughout the economic boom of the past 15 years, Ireland has led the continent in biopharma and biotech production. They’ve built tens of thousands of luxury homes where old cottages once stood. But open access internet is not a reality here yet, which explains our recent reticence. Not to worry – we ordered cable internet access, which should be up on Thursday.

New Digs New Wheels

We have been off the grid the past few days getting moved and getting our more permanent car. We wanted something European, like a Peugeot, Alfa Romeo, or Skoda, but as is typical, we landed a new Ford Feista. Mind you, it’s not the load-of-crap Ford Fiesta of USA ‘80’s fame. It’s well built, sharp looking, and smooth running – clearly not built in Detroit. Paul scraped the fender on the first car (in the driveway of all places), and we had to forfeit the 65 Euro deductable. This new agreement has a €1200 deduct, and so we’re a little worried. All visitors to our home will be asked to put their change in the ‘just in case’ coffee can in the pantry!

Our house is a four bedroom dream in the Gleann Rua neighborhood of Renmore on the east end of Galway City. We are in the process of getting internet access at the house, so we will be up and ready to Skype next week. We’re renting from a young woman named Patricia, with whom we are enamored. She’s a chatty, pleasant person and has been very good to us. The sign that we were in the right place came during our walk through when she and Paul discovered that they were both born on St. Patrick’s Day. They are ‘the chosen ones’ in this land. Just ask them.

If you are planning a visit, be sure to get your name down in our calendar. Sue is thinking of starting a B&B for family and friends. We’ll supply the bed, you supply the breakfast! Our butcher, Charlie, will help cut the rashers to your liking, and tell you stories while trimming the fat. Sue was wondering how long she’ll need to know him before she asks to take his photo. We can imagine Grandpa Tom and Uncle Jim jawing with him already.

The boys made it through their first week of school successfully. Sam joined a group that plays traditional Irish music on Tuesdays and Thursdays at St. Enda’s. We are getting him ready for his pub debut. Theo is getting acquainted with Ms. Naughton’s classroom and how it works. He is learning the metric system and decimals in ‘maths’ at the same time.

First Day of School . . . . . Almost

Theo got all handsomed up this morning, but Scoil Chaitriona closed as soon as we arrived. No heat!! This doesn’t seem to be an issue in any of the other 542 under-heated buildings we’ve visited, so there must be an ordinance affecting schools. He got to meet his new teacher, Ms. Naughton, and it was love at first sight. Theo looks pretty snazzy in his uniform, including tie and Irish wool jumper.

Sam starts ‘second year’ on Tuesday at Colaiste Einde (St. Enda’s College). Most of his classmates will be a little older – the 13 to 14 crowd. No worries, though. His new buddy, Michael O’Connell, is going to be his shepherd this first week. Courses will be from the 'beggars can't be choosers' menu. Since Spanish class was full, Sam will be taking advanced Irish and second-year French during two of his nine periods. He's heard of both languages, and so figures it won't be a huge challenge. With Spanish at home, he’ll be marginal in four languages by June!

Sue braved the wee roads (sraid beag) of Ireland today, only bouncing off the curb once. In short order, she’ll be torching corners and tailgating dangerously just like she does at home. Paul, meanwhile, has found his driving mojo, and has gotten considerably more comfortable in the Chevy (nee Daewoo) Kallos (Callus? More like bunyon). Both drivers now know that Bono was singing of Galway in U2’s 1987 hit, “Where the Streets Have No Names.”

We spent time at Salthill strand today. It was calm, sunny and about 50 degrees. Theo and Sam collected shells and enjoyed the sea side before we headed home to play catch with what the locals think is a hurling ball.

Life in Spiddal

Spiddal, the tiny coastal village where we are staying this week as we look for more permanent dwelling space, is beautiful, even in January. The Waterboys, one of our favorite Irish musical groups, lived and worked here for a time in the 1980’s. Our hosts have been magnificent, and every person we’ve asked for help has gone out of their way for us. What a great place.

Paul has mastered the left-hand shifting, and driving is fine so far. Galway is an ancient city, though, and there is not a straight route in it. Couple that with an utter lack of street signs, and it is frustrating to say the least. We’ll break down on Monday and rent a GPS for the microvehicle we rented.

We ventured into the city again today, bought $300 worth of boys school cloths, plus some food. We also stopped at a luthier’s shop to pick up John-Paul Foyle’s acoustic guitar. He’s lending it to us for the duration. Quite a guy, JP. He’s the Park Lodge’s answer to Basil Fawlty.

We purchased cell phones yesterday. Please e-mail us if you’d like the numbers. Paul downed his first Guinness today, though only a half-pint. He’s working his way up.

Baggage Gone All 'Mavericky'

We made it! We arrived at Shannon at 5:20 a.m. on a dark, chilly Atlantic morning. Unfortunately, our luggage decided to stay the night in Boston. Our eight suitcases have gone renegade on this trip once already, hijacking Del and Carol's car and forcing them to go to the wrong terminal at MSP on Wednesday afternoon, so it's no surprise that they opted to take in a Bruins game and some beers in Boston. Aer Lingus was wonderful, and will send our bags here to us in Spiddal tomorrow. Sam and Theo don't seem to mind the lack of an underwear change.

We have been greeted by the wonderful Foyle family, who have opened up a cottage at the Park Lodge - home of the CSB/SJU study abroad program in Ireland since 1984. Three of their boys, Michael (13), John (10), and Tomas (8) go to Sam and Theo's respective schools, and came up tonight to spend time with us. Such a great gift to our kids to have some new friends already.

We passed GMIT on our way into the city, and it looks like a vibrant place! Tomorrow we'll venture back into Galway, rent a car, and meet with the kid's schools.