Me, Myself & Ireland
I am a firm believer and advocate for all things abroad. Wherever abroad may be. You know that feeling you get when you see one of those social media posts of a charming little village in some far off place where time seems to stand still? You think, “ah, it looks like a dream”. I get that feeling all of the time. I think it's pretty universal. And someone in that village or on that side of the world is also admiring a video or image of a place on your side of the world thinking the same thing. Originally it was a postcard we’d share. Now it's just a post.
Seeing the world can be addicting. I was bit by the travel bug well before I had ever been anywhere. I think I was born with it. I remember as a kid lying in my bed on many afternoons looking up at the ceiling dreaming of far off places. How badly I wanted to go snorkeling in the tropics and get lost wandering an urban jungle and climb mountain ranges from the Andes to the Atlas to the Alps. It took a while but eventually over time I was able to start checking off those boxes. I haven’t looked back since. Each new place reinvigorates me in a way nothing else can.
One experience that I had never had despite having been to many countries was the experience of traveling alone. I remember once hearing a woman talk about how she traveled all over the world by herself and had been to over 50 countries solo. I couldn't wrap my head around it. “I would be so lonely,” I thought. I remember feeling conflicted with the idea of being able to do something I love but then what would be the value if you don't have anyone to share it with?
And then years later life happened and my perspective changed. In particular, I had been on a long hiatus from traveling anywhere and desperately needed to go somewhere. The problem was, I didn’t have anyone to go with. So I was confronted with the choice of not going or going alone. Cue Fleetwood Mac music.
I decided it was time to evolve and knew exactly where I wanted to go. Peru. Machu Picchu. It had been on my bucket list since those adolescent days of staring at the ceiling dreaming of far off places. I began the planning process and then realized that the trip was not going to work out with my timeline and budget. Out of luck.
So I pivoted and literally spun a globe and put my finger on a spot. It landed on Cuba. Well it landed in the Atlantic Ocean near the Caribbean Sea and the first place I noticed near my finger was Cuba. The country had just been reopened to tourism by the Obama Administration. I had two friends who’d recently gone and so with some research, their advice and a little planning I was on my way.
The short of it was that it was amazing. I had one of the best times ``ever, anywhere, all at once”:) But before it was amazing, it was a scary endeavor. On the flight to Havana, I remember looking out the window with tears in my eyes. I had recently gone through a divorce, it was the longest I’d been away from my kids and I was going to create an experience that no one else would be able to relate to. Pure ambivalence. I wouldn’t have anyone to say, “remember that time in Cuba when…” or “oh my god! That was just like that time when we were in Havana and…” But eventually those fears subsided and I was immersed into a world that changed me in ways that I am grateful for today.
Since then I have traveled to Amsterdam, Costa Rica and Peru all on my own. Yes I made it. I conquered Machu Picchu and the Andes Mountains. I can't tell you how excited the 13 year old me would have been had someone told him that those daydreams weren't in vain. That they weren’t fantasies. I’d tell him to keep imagining because dreams are oftentimes made of the best parts of who we are.
Two years later, I am nestled snugly in a grand leather sofa, next to a fire in the basement lounge of the Grand Palace Hotel- a little slice of heaven on the western side of Ireland in the charming town of Killarney. It's a popular tourist destination and one that I happened upon because my original plan didn’t work the way I had expected. Kind of like Peru. I was going to start my trip in Dublin but didn’t book a place to stay in time for the St. Patrick's Day holiday and just like Peru it wasn’t meant to be. But Peru was meant to happen, it just wasn’t meant to happen the first time around.
When I hiked Machu Picchu a few years ago one of the guys I met was also from Denver. In fact we lived about 8 blocks from each other. Kind of wild to run into your neighbor at 4:00 am in the forest on the other side of the world. He had been in Ireland for St Patrick’s Day the prior year and so he gave me advice on Killarney for the holiday. I can honestly say that I may not have ended up here had it not been for him.
So I booked my trip to Ireland. Killarney on the front end and Dublin on the back. In between was nebulous. All I solidified was a rental car for three days and wanted to see where the wind would take me. That is one of the best parts of traveling. Seeing where you end up. Trying to plan out every little thing doesn’t leave room for pleasant surprises.
Back In Killarney, on the day of St. Patrick, the city was a bonanza. People filled the streets from the morning throughout the day and into the wee hours of the night. Late the next morning, I set off to drive the Ring of Kerry - a 111 mile loop through the southern part of the country. The lovely couple Muireen and Yuri who I’d met the day before had suggested that I take a slightly different route to the first town of Kenmare that most people don’t take when they drive the ring. Five minutes in and I was transported into an emerald world. Who would have known green came in so many colors? Sparkling shades of jade lined the cobblestone walls along the road, olive moss hung from the trees. Teal water floated along the banks of lakes and shamrocks rolled out like a carpet across the landscape. That was only the beginning of the green flavored oasis.
I drove for about an hour and then took my detour towards Ballinskelligs. A dot of a town about ten minutes off the Ring of Kerry. The wind was wild and when I arrived, I found one lodge and asked if they were open. The lady told me no and that the only place serving any food was about 15 minutes away. Next I learned that I would need to take a boat in order to see the famous Luke Skywalker filming location from the movie Star Wars: The Force Awakens (the only reason I had made the detour). Not ideal. In fact not what I wanted to spend my day doing. I was ready to see more of the countryside and I also didn’t know where I was going to sleep that night so I felt it would be wiser to keep moving. Thus the joy of traveling alone. I didn’t have to consult with anyone. Had I been with someone dead set on seeing “Star Wars island”, my day would have been spent on a boat and probably would have ended up searching for the closest place to stay.
Three hours later I had driven about 80% of the ring and came to a decision. Go back to Killarney and just stay another night or turn left and drive the Dingle Peninsula. I went left and an hour or so later pulled into the seaside town of Dingle which looks like one big postcard. The sun was setting over the harbor and the wind carried the voices of seagulls and locals delicately on its wings. It was peaceful and tranquil. I had arrived at that quaint village where time seems to stand still.
I facetimed my daughters and as I saw their little faces pop up on the screen, I turned the camera for them to see the view and I could only hear their exclamations “Wow!!! That's beautiful! Where are you?”.
“I’m in a town called Dingle”.
We chatted and of course they were more interested in the Irish sheep dog named “puppy” that was running nearby and the giant ice cream statue outside of Murphy's, the famous ice cream shop all over the country that is “handcrafted in Dingle”.
My stomach grumbled and I had yet to eat any fish and chips so it felt apropos to find a pub. I could hear the cheers from the bar across the street echoing out of the door. Sports fans. Inside, I found a place near the bar and tv. The steering wheel of an old ship hung promptly on the wall behind the table and seemed like a fitting place for me to end my day's journey. Ireland and England were embattled into a bitter rugby match and Ireland was winning. After the Irish won a sentimental chorus of “The Fields of Athenry” rang out by the voices of the locals in victorious unison.
“A Guinness please” I asked the bartender.
Afterwards I meandered my way through the quiet streets towards my bed and breakfast up the hill. Again, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was the night after the country's largest national festival. But it was serene and tonight was the first night I could see the stars. The Dingle Peninsula was as dark as anywhere and Venus shone bright over the little town.
The next morning I was up early and needed to figure out where to go. I pulled up my map to see where the Cliffs of Moher were and what towns were nearby. There it was, Lahinch, I’d forgotten about the advice from Muireen and Yuri but knew it was where I’d go.
The innkeeper of the bed and breakfast brought out a plate of eggs and bacon and asked where I was headed. “Lahinch” I told her.
“Lahinch is lovely,” she said. “Make sure you do Slea Head Drive before you head out though. It only takes an hour and it's wonderful”.
Done. I thought to myself.
About 45 minutes later I was on a sheep farm overlooking a turquoise ocean like something out of National Geographic. I was playing with baby lambs and exploring 11th Century beehive huts - stone houses used by monks at the beginning of medieval times.
An American couple emerged from the cliffside guesthouse with their suitcases and we got to chatting. They were from Colorado as well. We marveled at the place and then discussed the adventure it took to arrive at our location. The Slea Head Drive road is only wide enough for one car. And that’s a European rental car. F150’s don't really exist there. Most cars are compact and small and they were too big for this road. Despite its narrow width, the road is indeed a two lane highway and the speed limit is around 50 mph. One side is a cliff that goes straight down into the ocean and the other is typically a wall of granite. Driving it is a white knuckled adventure to say the least.
They headed on and I went inside to the barn to play with baby lambs. I asked the farmer if any of the sheep were used for shearing.
“No, there's no money in wool. All these sheep are bred for meat”. I am not a vegetarian but I have done my bouts of it and as I held the delicate little lamb in my arms I decided veal wasn’t for me.
The singlewide road stretched on in the rain and wind and I continued north towards the famous Cliffs of Moher. In the rain it was spectacular. The power of these cliffs was overwhelming and I could see why so many people were there. In fact it was a little odd. I’d only seen a large gathering of tourists like myself on St. Patrick's Day. Since then it had been pretty mild but pulling into the parking lot in the middle of nowhere was like entering Disneyland. Two to three hundred people strolled all over the area and bus and after bus pulled into the parking lot delivering more crowds. The visitor center was a zoo because the rain was so heavy. I stayed as long as I could to marvel at the landscape and eventually ventured on with the crowds.
Lahinch is a small coastal surfing town south of the Cliffs of Moher. The Atlantic Hotel is a wonderful historic place right on the main street. Again, I’m tucked in a corner at a table next to a fireplace. A perfect spot to sit and sip by myself. I had Guinness and Guinness beef stew. No lamb. Afterwards, I stepped out onto the empty street. Not a soul. I pictured the vibrant St. Patrick's Day festivities that only a few days prior certainly crammed people from every village along the coast into the handful of pubs on the street. I decided to do one more pint and then head back to the remote cabin a mile outside the edge of town.
Castledarcy is a large stone ruin now but at one point in time it was called the Lodge and was a sort of guest house for those who traveled the area. The place fell into disrepair and now the owners Siobhan and Donncha have turned the land beside it into an amazing glamping experience. When I got back I was greeted by a friendly Donncha who gave me some ideas on where to go the next day. “Check out Galway but don’t take the main highway. Take the coast along Doolin to Fanore and then through Ballyvaughan”.
Like the famous David Bowie quote - I didn't know where I was going but I knew it would be boring. Thanks to the advice of Donncha, I took the road less traveled and created memories for myself that are exclusive to me. The original fear I had in Cuba that I wouldn’t have anyone to share the experiences with had now flipped and I was cherishing moments that were for me, myself and Ireland. Upon my exit to my next destination, I reflected on the journey over the last day and heard it recap in my mind through rhyme.
I left the village of Dingle
On a road made for singles
And was right for the ferry from the County of Kerry
As I turned over there
ending in County Clare
My trip was a cinch as I got to Lahinch
Now pull me a pint for my day has been long
And play me a tune and sing me a song
After a night in Galway, I made my way due east across the middle of the island back towards Dublin, passing the famous fields of Athenry. The place the Irish folk ballad is about. Originally written by Pete St. John in 1979, the tune catalogs the story of the great famine and a man sentenced to prison in Australia. A sort of Les Miserable like tale where stealing a loaf of bread to feed his family, the man is sent to serve his sentence in Botany Bay. I may have only been in Ireland a little over a week but I heard the song sung in almost every Irish pub I drank in.
One of the things that struck me about Ireland was that a large piece of the country's identity is tied up in its history through literature, language and heritage. For instance, there are four Nobel Prize winning laureates from Ireland. There is a town called Limerick which is a literary device and all throughout Dublin the written word and the history of language abound as an economic driver.
Irish heritage and the pride that comes from the diaspora resonates here. Irish people are proud of their identity and roots. You can trace that sentiment back to the country and see why and where it comes from. Ireland's “exports” for lack of a better term are in its identity. The way that Turkish rugs are world renown from Istanbul or how Thailand is known for its food - Ireland has created a cottage industry around who Ireland is.
I arrived in Dublin around noon and made my way to my hotel. I set out to explore and little did I know I would accomplish a tourism marathon within a few short hours. I like to walk, especially in a European metro. I like to explore and if my feet get tired, I know I’ve accomplished what I came to do. That afternoon I visited the James Joyce Museum, Remembrance Park, The Hugh Lane Art Gallery, The Dublin Castle, The Chester Beatty Garden, The Chester Beatty Library, St. Patrick's Cathedral, The Marsh Library and St. Stephen's Green Park. I walked 11 miles in about 6 hours. The reason why this is relevant is that traveling solo allowed me to do all of this. Many people might look at this itinerary and think “no thank you”. Had my daughters been with me, we would have likely made it to 2-3 of these.
Back home after my trip. I am sitting with my older daughter after a long day and she is emotional and crying. She tells me that she is afraid sometimes of being alone. That it is difficult to transition from Mom to Dad because she is often scared when the other parent isn’t there.
My heart went out to her but after comforting her it became a conversation about how being alone can be powerful and eventually she will learn that time to herself can be a gift. As I looked into her big watery eyes I could sense that she was really listening to what I was telling her. I let her know that what she was feeling is something that everyone experiences throughout their life. I don't want to lie to her and tell her that she’ll never be alone because even people with the most supportive families and strongest networks experience it. It is part of the process of living.
But she doesn't need to be afraid of it. It is important to learn to embrace it. To dive into it and to love yourself in a way that allows you to become your own best friend. Life will certainly throw her for some loops and being prepared to handle those challenges is the best way through them.
Once again Ireland found a way to influence me in a way no other place could. It turns out writing about the power of traveling alone can be summed up in a simple limerick.
There once was man all alone
Who traveled abroad to and fro
At first he was scared and a little unprepared
But it was the lesson he needed to grow
