It’s cold in Ireland in January. I haven’t lived in a cold climate for over thirty years, but my husband and I purposely got married in January so that we could have a wintry, snuggly honeymoon and subsequent wintry, snuggly anniversary trips. The brisk air, crackling fireplaces, down comforters, and layered winter wardrobes are so far out of our South Florida norm that winter trips feel like a real treat, something out of the ordinary. Hence, our trip to beautiful Ireland this month. We dug our winter coats out of the back room closet, packed up jeans, sweaters, shoes, socks, winter pajamas, and lots of moisturizer, then happily endured the long flight and excitedly anticipated the nine days ahead in a country that neither of us had ever visited before.

Upon our arrival into Dublin, we headed to Dooley Car Rental to pick up our pre-arranged tiny little stick-shift car with the steering wheel on the passenger side. (It’s a good thing my husband has driving talents as he had to drive on the wrong side of the road, shift with his left hand, navigate roundabouts in the opposite direction, and parallel park backwards. I was merely the backseat driver.) Our rental car pick-up was quick and uneventful; however, it was my first indication that we were far, far away from home.

We had asked the rental agent if wi-fi was readily available around the island and she said yes. So we declined to rent a portable wi-fi device thinking that we’d have plenty of wi-fi opportunities in our travels. Five minutes later, as the shuttle van driver was loading our suitcases into the back of his van, I thought I’d get a second opinion. He said no, wi-fi is hard to come by, especially in the more rural areas. So we rented the portable wi-fi device on the spot, which turned out to be the best decision ever. The wi-fi device allowed us to access Google maps on our iPhones which was a lifesaver since the Garmin navigator was constantly unsure of itself and “recalculating” our route, and all we had then was an old-fashioned paper map that neither of us could see without readers and lots of intense light. ha ha

So, much to my delight, besides very quickly discovering that every Irishman or Irishwoman has greatly differing answers to the same question and that I’ll never get the same response twice, I learned much, much more as we explored the beautiful island of Ireland. We had a rental car, Google maps, and reservations at four different castles in four very different towns. Our adventure took us from bustling downtown Dublin on the Irish Sea, to rural country roads in the middle country, to the medieval harbor town of Galway and the magnificent Cliffs of Moher on the west, to northern coastal “Yeats country” where the famed poet and author hailed from. Here is just a fraction of what I learned along the way:

It’s not a 15-minute walk, but the neighbors are nice. We spent the first few nights at Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel in suburban Dublin, in an affluent neighborhood perched well above the Irish Sea, home to celebrity residents like Bono. So far so good. I like it. The desk clerk told us it was just a 10 or 15 minute walk down the hill to the Irish Rail station to catch the train to Dublin. Cool. Off we went.

Reminiscent of the differing wi-fi answers, it wasn’t an easy, breezy 15-minute walk. Had I gotten a second opinion, I would have known that it was actually a challenging 25 minute walk in the  45-degree wind. However, the sun was out, it was a beautiful neighborhood and, as we were standing on the sidewalk admiring a magnificent old house, cold hands jammed into our pockets and backs against the wind, an elderly lady out for a walk stopped to chat. We talked real estate, values, taxes, celebrity neighbors, town history. She was a pleasure and it proved what I had read: The friendly Irish genuinely delight in engaging strangers to their land in conversation. Later, this was reinforced even more when a little card and some chocolates were left on our bedroom pillows by the housekeepers. The card read: “In Ireland there are no strangers, only friends you haven’t met before. (Anonymous)”. 

Cead Mile Failte: This saying is found all over Ireland on plaques, menus, signs. It’s Gaelic for “a hundred thousand welcomes” and it rings so very true among the sincerely welcoming Irish. I brought a little bit of Ireland home with me. A little burnished plaque that says Cead Mile Failte hangs by our front door, offering a hundred thousand welcomes to our guests.

By the way, six hours, a few pints, and a return train ride later, the long, 25-minute walk UP the hill in the now dark and frigid wind to the welcoming warmth of our castle was quite a challenge to this Florida girl who mostly walks in flip flops on flat land in hot humidity – especially since I was donning about 10 extra pounds of jeans, sweater, boots and down coat. But this did not stop us from repeating the fun the next night. Had to keep my eye on the prize!

Worldwide, teens are all the same. One day, we were comfortably and warmly homesteaded on the train for our 30-minute ride into Dublin when we stopped at a station that was apparently near a school. A gaggle of uniformed 14- and 15-year old boys and their Jansport backpacks embarked and settled in next to us. Pure entertainment. They were just like similarly-aged American teens with pimply-faced awkwardness, lively, boyish banter with an occasional forbidden swear word thrown in for dramatic effect and coolness factor among their peers, and haircuts that no mother loves (but, hey, you have to pick your battles). They had really cute accents. Their train ride included devouring bags of Hunky Dory potato chips, a brand that hubby and I found amusing and brought home for our own teenage sons to devour.

The Irish are proud to be self-sustaining, and rightly so. Restaurants, pubs, breweries, whiskey distilleries – they all support their local growers, fishermen, farmers, and sheep herders. No matter where we were, from a pub in Limerick to a restaurant on the coast, from the Guinness Storehouse to the Jameson Whiskey Distillery, everything originated from what their own land, sea, animals, and hands could produce. There’s no importing from China, no prepackaged crap. The homemade soups of the day, fish and chips, and Irish stew are notably fresh and delicious. The cheeses are creamy and awesome. The beer and whiskey are produced only from locally grown hops and barley. You have not had a Guinness till you’ve had one in Ireland, and even if you’re not a whiskey drinker, no doubt you’d enjoy at least one Jameson on the rocks. We knew that comfort food and beer would be in abundance on this trip, but the quality, freshness, and homemade goodness of everything that we ate and drank was an unexpected surprise. I am now in beer and fish and chip detox.

Everyone’s happy and smiley. The Irish are a merry group and I think I know why. It seems that pubs are a way of life. In every town, in every castle across the land, pubs are in abundance. Every single one of them is always packed to the gills. We visited many, many pubs, a copious amount of pubs, and I can attest first-hand to the fact that sometimes, no matter the time of day or night, there is standing room only in any given pub. So the Irish seem to always have their edges softened and they seem to find great joy in regularly socializing and relaxing with a beer and some good music. We particularly enjoyed the pubs that had traditional Irish music, and I especially loved current music, like songs from Ed Sheeran and Coldplay, that were performed with a traditional Irish twist by young duos and trios of very talented musicians.

Dromoland Castle in Newmarket-on-Fergus is the bomb. We were literally treated like royalty at this castle, not pronounced “DROM-a-land” but rather pronounced “Dro-MO-leen”, just FYI. We were shown to our “bedroom” after our little car was parked for us in the “car park”. It just took a quick phone call to the front desk from our bedroom any time we wanted to retrieve our car, which would then be waiting in the entry drive for us, even warmed up a bit. The ladies at the reception desk requested “take away” hot coffee and tea, and it was handed to us from a silver tray by the white-gloved hand of the gentlemanly butler as we headed out for the day. Nice. One day, we had a morning appointment to go clay pigeon shooting, something I’ve never done. I thought that maybe in a controlled environment and shooting only at clay and not at living creatures, that I might monumentally conquer my fear of guns and do so in a foreign land. Idealistic, but it wasn’t meant to be as the morning brought rain and the appointment was canceled. However, my husband was able to enjoy a private falconry session earlier that morning which he thoroughly enjoyed, and which sparked an idea.

We decided that we should return to Dromoland Castle in the summer with the kids. We could use the luxurious castle as our home base while we explored the parts of Ireland that we weren’t going to get to this trip. We thought the boys would surely enjoy clay pigeon shooting, falconry, go karts on the tennis courts, a round of beginner golf. So we inquired at the reception desk and our new receptionist friend said that she would put something together for us with two connecting bedrooms, and that she’d include a “returning guest” discount. Oh yeah! We could barely contain ourselves!

That evening, we were enjoying a Guinness in the castle pub in front of a small but toasty fire in the fireplace, listening to an acoustic guitarist, our nightly ritual while at the Dromoland. In walks our receptionist friend. She said she knew she’d find us here. Well, of course. Where else does one go when one is in a castle in the rural lands of Ireland?

Then, in a flash, she burst our hopeful bubble when we found out that our grandiose summer plans did not fit our less-than-grandiose family budget. Turns out that it would be 650 euros a night, discounted to 500 euros a night since we’re returning guests. Oh. That’s over $600 a night – per room! What did we know. We were there on a package deal that was apparently deeply, deeply discounted due to the wintry dates of our travel. Oh well. There’s always Plan B for summer vacation.

Ireland’s natural wonders and history are bountiful. Visiting Bru na Boinne, also called the Newgrange Megalithic Tomb, was quite an adventure. It’s a Stone Age burial mound and the tour included entry through its skinny passageway to the middle of the tomb. All loose items like cameras and purses had to be worn under your coat, and we were not allowed to touch anything. This one I did for my hubby. I would have never purposely put myself outside in the cold for 40 minutes (and after a 10-minute walk to the shuttle stop along a path in the frosty, windy woods) and then inside of an ancient tomb. But my husband was so looking forward to visiting Bru na Boinne, because he likes that stuff, it reminded him of the setting of his “Skyrim” Playstation game, and it was on his “must do” list while in Ireland. I would never want to crush his Bru na Boinne spirit. So of course I kept my reservations to myself and enthusiastically pretended and participated, and it actually turned out to be a wonderful, amazing, and educational afternoon adventure that I truly enjoyed.

Another adventure brought us to a flooded country road. We were told by many Dubliners to stay on the main roads once we left the city as Ireland had recently experienced downpours that left much of the rural areas flooded. We stayed on the main roads, but define “main road”! Irish main roads and American main roads are two different things! Some Irish main roads are merely pathways in the woods and pastures, sometimes with grass growing in defiant little strips where the tires haven’t yet beaten it down.

We had almost completed our distant drive to our new digs, the Kilronan Castle Hotel in the countryside, when we came to a halt. The little road in the valley was flooded so badly that it was closed, and a makeshift wooden pedestrian bridge had been constructed above where the sidewalk once was, indicating that this was not a temporary situation. Hmmmm. We consulted our paper map and Google maps, and discovered that we were so close, just about three miles away, but that a detour up and around the hills could cost us an hour.

So we waited. We wondered how deep it really was. We patted ourselves on the back for smartly prepurchasing full coverage car insurance from Dooley. We wondered how bad the damage could be to our little car if we attempted the crossing. We had visions of quickly and uneventfully zooming through the flood, then we had visions of the water engulfing our stalled rental car and causing us to dangerously float away. We sipped at our coffee and tea and contemplated our options. A few other cars approached and they waited too. Geeze. It had been a long day. We were so ready for our next castle adventure, so done with drinking gas station beverages and sitting in the car, having already stopped at abbeys, cathedrals, really old cemeteries and anything else we found interesting along the way. It would be dark soon… Then, suddenly, a big pick-up truck came out of nowhere and zoomed through the flood, clearing a watery path like it was the Red Sea parting, and all of us little cars instantly sprung into action and quickly followed in behind with shared smiles and a collective sigh of relief.

When we finally arrived at the Kilronan, the friendly desk clerk who checked us in enthusiastically told us that it was just a 15-minute walk into town if we wanted to leave our car behind and explore the beautiful grounds and area by foot. Much smarter than the day I arrived, I wasn’t buying that. ; )  I had already learned that the Irish, like our Caribbean friends, live life and judge minutes on island time. We had just come from town, three miles away via a skinny little road with no sidewalks that was flooded at the base of the hill and that led to the little rural town that was cool to drive through but otherwise void of any activity or people. Instead, we settled in at our new castle and ordered a bowl of homemade seafood chowder in the cozy Drawing Room pub with the grand, roaring fireplace and friendly bartender who patiently and expertly helped us plan our next day’s adventure over a pint of Guinness.

 

Cead mile buiochas a ghabhail leat, Ireland. (A hundred thousand thank yous.) Our anniversary trip to Ireland was out of season and off the beaten path, and it encompassed so much more that I could actually write a book about the people, places, history and adventures that made our trip fantastic. It was the perfect trip for the two of us, two peas in a pod with a shared wanderlust who happily travel really well together, regardless of the destination, weather, or time of year.

What was lovely about today: The best part about today is happening right now. I worked, picked up my ninth-grader from the car line, fed him dinner, completed all of my mom and wife duties, then settled in at my computer with a glass of wine to reminisce about our trip to Ireland. It’s always lovely to be able to transport myself to a vacation land, even if it’s only in my mind.