Island Hopping

Tigh Melchior was busting at the seams this past week. In addition to Tom and sue Melchior boarding here, Jim and Kathleen Melchior pulled in last Thursday for a two week stay. After the latter two got some rest, we marched them to Murty Rabbitt’s for the evening ceili session of Dusty Banjos.

The four venerable ones pooled their sovereigns and rented a car with an automatic transmission – a rarity in these parts. Friday was spent teaching James (or ‘Seamus’, as he now prefers) to drive on the wrong side of the paved cow-paths. Undaunted, the elder Melchiors followed their younger counterparts up the coast of the Connemara, past a three-day old bog fire, and on to Rossaveel. From there all boarded the ferry Draiocht na Farraige (Magic of the Sea), and made for Inis Oírr, the smallest of Na Oileáin Árann. A horse named 'Captain Morgan' hauled us on a wagon tour of the island, including a side trip to the hulking remains of 1960 ship wreck on the southern shore. Even grandpa Tom, on the verge of his third set of synthetic knees, held up well despite the walking. The sunshine and daffodils certainly helped. It was a great day.

These days, Inis Oírr, Inis Meain, and Inis Mhor - the Aran Islands - are fading apparitions of their storied past. While starkly beautiful in their wind bathed desolation, thatched roofed hovels have given way to modern cottages with satellite TV and broad band internet service. Why wouldn’t they? It is 2009, after all. During the summer, tourists overrun these islands to glimpse the past, which has all but evaporated. Strange and sad, though, to see the curraghs - now made of black fiberglass instead of canvass and tar – lay unused, kept mostly for show. No doubt plenty of the old charm and much of the beauty remains on these famed islands, but JM Synge and Liam O’Flaherty would be shocked to see a flashy Supermac’s chain burger joint gracing the shore of the big island. Still, an amazing place.

On Sunday, Tom, Sue (the matriarch), Seamus and Kathleen left for Kerry, Cork, and parts unknown. We’ll meet up with them near Wicklow this weekend.

Meanwhile, Theo was thrilled to see that his school band, with him in the 29th row, made the front page of the Connacht Tribune! Lately, he has been practicing his Catholic coral pieces (in Irish) that his class will sing for the Bishop of Tuam on Thursday. Blood and ‘Ouns!

The Irish Song O' The Day is by Jenny Mulvey, who plays the tin whistle in our trad/ceili group Dusty Banjos. It turns out she can sing, too, and she recently released her first vocal CD!. This song, called Maire Mhor, is sung in Irish.

The Birthday Grail

When a guy who is in large part the product of nineteenth century Irish immigrants is born on St. Patrick’s Day, he is saddled with certain responsibilities to his kin. First, he is considered a possible ‘second coming’ of the Messiah by his pure-bred Hibernian grandmother, great aunts and uncles. After they recover from the crushing disappointment of reality, these same leprechaun-sized relations - descended from the great clans of Moore, Connolly, Burke, Shaughnessy, O’Connor, and O’Leary - place great expectations on him to carry on the traditions of west Cork, the Kerry peninsulas, and the Connaught.

Blessed by his parents with the gift of gab, the love of music, humor, and stories, and an acute – almost religious – appreciation for stouts and ales, he develops a deep sense of identity with the Irish people and their land. To celebrate this day of his birth, this day of Naomh Phadraig, in the land of his ancestors has left him feeling lucky, blessed, and loved. This personal grail quest – denied him by mere hours some twenty years prior by a North Sea storm – has finally been fulfilled.

And what a birthday it was. By mid-morning it was sixty degrees out with a cloudless, calm, blue sky. The greatest gift, however, was that of family. Imagine the joy of this same fellow as he watches his nine-year old son march and play the tin whistle with the Scoil Chaitriona band in the grandest parade in all of Eire. The fact that his wife, eldest son, and parents were also there and wearing silly green hats was just icing on the cake (which happened to be a rendition of a giant pint of Guinness).

After being blessed by St. Patrick himself at the end of the parade, the family shared a celebratory lunch at the Western’s pub, before relaxing at home. In the evening, birthday man and his beautiful bride strolled for hours along Salthill’s promenade and watched the sunset over Inis Mór and Galway Bay.

Not a bad day to turn forty-six.

We'll leave you with a bit of Na Banna as Scoil Caitriona in the Galway St. Patrick's Day Parade . . .

Guest Blogger

Greetings from Ireland,

Grandma Sue and I arrived a week ago although Continental Airlines did its best to waylay our journey. The blasted airline said our flight was late and re-routed us to Northwest/Delta. That’s 0-2 for Continental, so they are off my list. The two Sues, Paul, and I went out for an "Irish" breakfast after we recovered from flight: rashers (back bacon from an Irish pig, bangers (pork sausages-no spices), white pudding (pork, barley, oatmeal, and unknowns), black pudding (pigs’ blood), grilled tomato, brown bread, beans, etc.)

Every Thursday night Paul practices with a group that plays "traditional" Irish music in Galway. He’s quickly learning the songs. At about 9: 30 the group gathers at Murty Rabbitts to play an 'open session', and can they play! I counted two accordion players, five guitars, two tin whistles, two banjo players; several fiddle players, two low whistles (flutes), two mandolins, and a partridge in a pear tree. For much of the night, Grandma Sue was sitting with her Irish beer between Johnnie from Glasgow and Paul. I had a glass of Guinness at Paul’s urging and had a coughing jag during the night due to an allergic reaction. No more Guinness for me!

Touring has been great although I am still not used to the left lane. I have declined every opportunity to drive. We rented a second car this weekend to tour the Clonmacnoise Abbey on Sunday. Paul and Sue drove. We also visited Ross Abbey on Friday and Connemara on Saturday. Fantastic! Google the Twelve Bens.

If you like cool, windy, cloudy weather, this is the place for you. Despite the weather Sam is working on his pitching and catching fly balls. The Twins have nothing on them. The Irish lads in the neighborhood were out with Paul and Sam playing hurling. (Check Google). I took one swing at the ball and pulled my biceps muscle. I gave notice that I am done with the game.

On our trip to Connemara Sue and I stopped at the Quiet Man Bridge. Dat’s herself and me huggin’ there. We had just watched the movie, so it was a big deal. Eat your heart out Kathleen Brown(e). We’ll not be goin’ to Cong until ye and James get here.

I’ll be leavin’ ye now lads and lassies. St. Patty’s Day is comin’ tomorrow, and Paul will be celebrating his 46th. Here's one of my favorite songs to celebrate our arrival - Whiskey in The Jar by the Dublin City Ramblers.

Galwagian Slang and New Arrivals

Our first guests have arrived. Sue and Tom made it to the West of Ireland. The boys are very excited that their Grandparents are staying with us. After sleeping for twelve hours on their first day they have both adjusted nicely.

I was hoping to post this before our first guests arrived, but as in Ireland, better late than never. Here is my lesson on speaking Galweigan vernacular:

Banger – Sausages, usually for breakfast
Rasher- Canadian Bacon (US), Back Bacon (Canada)
White/ Black Puddin’ – a meat substance with barley and seasonings in a tube form.

Chips- French Fries
Bap – Sandwich, usually served in a pub.
Easy Peelers – Clementine.
Crisps – Potato Chips also referred to as Taytos for the popular brand.
Squash – A delicious concentrated juice beverage diluted by the glass with water.
Messer – A trouble maker
Sultanas – Dried green grapes
Topper – Pencil Sharpener
HB - Pencil
Jumper - Sweater
Runners – Tennis Shoes
Wellies – Tall rubber boots
Banjaxed - Broken
Desperate – Bad, needs attention
Craic – Pronounced 'Crack', fun times
Queue – A waiting line; to get into a line
Deadly - Gorgeous
Brilliant - Wonderful
Knackered - Tired and frustrated
The Jacks - Public bathrooms
The Bog - Poorly kept Jacks

In the morning at our Renmore home the boys enjoy bangers, rashers and puddin’, while their Mum puts together their lunch’s of sultanas, easy peelers, crisps and baps. After breakfast the boys put on their scoil uniform jumpers (or track suit and runners if they have PE in the yard). They quickly fill their packs with their copies, topper and HBs. After sixty minutes in desperate traffic queues we leave them with a quick slan and remind them to avoid the messers. We then have five hours for housework, some lunchtime craic in a pub, and various work duties until it's time to collect them. By evening, the boys have us knackered and ready for bed.

Forty

Little Meg Melchior turned forty years old today. We called to wish her a happy mid-life, even though she's only recently entered her baby makin' years. She was also warned that her Irish birthday gift from Galway had been delayed at the US Customs' quarantine facility, but would be cleared within a week and forwarded to St. Paul. A bale of fresh hay will arrive prior to 'the package'.

In honor of Meg's big day, the Irish tune du jour is the metaphorical I Don't Like Mondays by The Boomtown Rats (1979) - Bob Geldof's band from Dun Laoghaire in County Dublin. Happy 40th Birthday Mary Margaret. We love you.

Science Lavatory

Paul concluded his three week study of toilet paper dispenser neglect in the GMIT Life Sciences Building as a way to quantify the appalling condition of the college’s bathrooms. The study was adequately controlled and the sample population included six (of nine) randomly selected stalls from three (of five) randomly chosen men’s rooms in the building. Sampling events were randomly timed (during work hours) and occurred once per work day. Stalls were considered ‘empty’ if the dispenser was bereft of any tissue, and ‘full’ if at least one visit’s (for lack of a better term) worth of tissue was still available in the stall.

Results were as follows:

Sample events: n= 132
Total ‘empty’ events: 104 (79%)
Total ‘full’ events: 26 (19.5%)
Total ‘non-full but tissue depauperate’ events: 2 (1.5%)

The results clearly indicated that, with an effective empty rate of 80.5%, the chances of a male restroom user finding a toilet with adequate paper resources is a paltry one in five - ominous odds since each restroom only has three stalls. Combined with the intangible of periodic toilet seat thefts, and the emergency user is clearly vulnerable to the desperate unpleasantries of a TP deficient visit. In conclusion, this study strongly suggests that the typical GMIT building user appropriate an independent, and therefore more reliable, supply of bathroom tissue prior to use. Furthermore, due to the chronic olfactory assault faced when entering these facilities, it may well be advisable to go at home.

The accompanying photo from the author’s GMIT laboratory is included for a flavoring of both irony and absurdity. Please note the tag on the assembly.

County Kerry

Due to the inadequate portrayal of our weekend in County Kerry by the primary author, the rest of the Melchior clan has temporarily blog-jacked this site. This may become a more common occurrence if it continues to take until Thursday evening to report on the activities of the previous weekend. Don’t expect Joyce or Yeats, just the facts folks. Click on the photos to enlarge them!

We got an early start on Friday due to Theo’s short school week. I don’t think he has put in a full five day week since we arrived. We pulled Sam out early to hit the road; no one should drive the rural roads of Ireland at night. We arrived in Tralee at the “Grand Hotel” after our 3 hour drive - it’s like going to Naylon’s. The hotel had a three star rating and was quite honestly nicer than anything we have stayed in before. After consuming three large Irish breakfasts and one porridge we were off to explore the Dingle Peninsula.

Our first stop was pooh-poohed by our driver (something about going to the Netherlands later this Spring) - the largest windmill of its kind in Europe (21.3 meters high). The morning was beautiful so we stopped at a beach near the town of Camp. Theo found some razor clams and two full sea urchin shells, while Paul and Sam tossed the football around on the hard sand beach. We were very excited to see some stone ‘beehive’ huts, unfortunately our first stop was cut short by the gentleman in the ticket booth requiring two Euros each for us to go in his backyard and see the ancient ruins. Our patience paid off outside of Ballyferriter at the Gallurus Oratory, however. We ended our day at an unremarkable B&B in Killorglin.

The next morning we set off around the Ring of Kerry. Our destination for the day was Cahersiveen. We went directly to the Cahergal Fort. I saw a picture of it in one of the brochures we got at the Grand Hotel. The photo depicts a beautiful stone fort ruin filled with tourists. To our pleasant surprise, though, when we arrived the fort it was all ours. It will be interesting when we have to share our finds with tourists! It was an incredible site. The circular ring had small staircases up the sides of the walls with “cozy little benches” that Theo discovered at the top. You could walk up all sides and even the top of the ruin. Inside was a beehive structure that had lost its roof over the years. We read that it was inhabited by a family of wealth somewhere between 500 BC and 1000 AD.

We continued on to Waterville for a lunch break and a little “trinket” shopping. We ate at a wonderful pub “The Lobster”. We met the proprietor who hailed from New Jersey and had the laid-back Irish lifestyle down - it took us longer to get our bill paid and our take-out boxes than it did to order and eat. Our travels lead us to several wonderful spots for photos and a stretch. We are anxious to get back to the area as it is now our “favorite” part of Ireland.

The clan headed for the Kerry Coast last Friday, ancestral home of the Moore/Connor line of our family tree. We spent the night in Tralee at a nice little hotel, a la Fawlty Towers (complete with Manuel). We dined at a hole in the wall called Allegro, which had the best lasagna imaginable – a major feat in Ireland, which apparently has never heard of Italian sausage (the Bragnalos and Mezzengas in our life would not be able to cope). After we returned to our digs, Theo and Paul headed for The Pikeman, the pub attached to the hotel, for a nightcap. The former had neopolitan icecream while his daddy enjoyed a pint of Dublin’s finest nectar. Sue and Sam followed a bit later and we all enjoyed the company of the local patrons.

Saturday brought us out to the Dingle Peninsula. After sunshine in the morning, we dealt with rainfall most of the day. The landscape is so incredible, however, that little could dampen our spirits. We cut through the mountains via Connor Pass, stopped for lunch in Dingle Town, and spent time at remarkable beach at Slea Head. After a night in a cheap guesthouse in Kilorglin, we spent Sunday exploring the coast and hinterlands of the Iveragh Penninsula. The fabled Ring of Kerry circumscribes the Iveragh, and affords great views. The real treasure, however, is the drive on single-lane, trecherous roads through the center. Magnificent scenery. We were stymied by the local bovines who believed the road was theirs.

The way home brought us through Limerick, home of the Cranberries. Thus, we'll leave you today with Dreams - the quintessential song by Delores O'Riordan and her band.