Thursday off to Bantry for the final leg.  We stopped in Cobh where there was a HUGE cruise ship that deposited a million tourists. The Americans do stand out.. and not in a good way. Fred and I separated because of our differing ideas on how to experience new places. I met an interesting guy while looking at the cruise ship. He seemed a bit vagabondish, but turned out not to be. He’s 60 and married. Needs surgery for varicose veins — really bad — in one leg, but the wait here is FIVE YEARS. The downside to a national healthcare program is apparently the long wait times. Anyway, he said he had a brother who went to America and died there. He was 24 and had gone off to have a career in computers in the Ozarks (of all places). The family bought him a car. He was ready to start work the next day, but drove on the left side of the road and met a truck head on and was killed. 

In Cobh.

We LOVE our AirBNB here — about ten minutes from the busy little town of Bantry. It's the cleanest most cheerful place… On these driving days, we tend to chill a bit once we arrive, and our host was gracious enough to let us get in early. Dinner was at a pub in Bantry. Fred had black pudding SALAD which he was delighted with. Another huge cruise ship was in the bay, but seemingly just gathering the passengers and setting sail. WHEW!  The tv in the bar was turned on and the bartender was changing the channels to find something interesting. There’s LOTS of sports to watch here. Hurling is the main sport in Cork, but there’s also Irish football and rugby. But he settled on DARTS… a DART tournament from 2021!  Fred and I were kind of confused and made a tiny wise crack when the girl next to us at the bar said, Oh, this was a great tournament. The 2022 tournament starts up soon. I’m on this pub’s team...and she pointed out the score keeper sheet on the wall. So who knew? We have seen NOBODY playing darts in Ireland!  

Our Bantry place, photo courtesy of the AirBNB listing. 
See the listing here: https://www.airbnb.ie/rooms/32299123?source_impression_id=p3_1657549067_DKPbk%2BCmVqiow7yv

Friday. We were facing four days of NO PLANS, unlike the previous two weeks. We took a long ill-fated walk. Ill-fated in that we thought it was one hour, over the mountain, where we would reward ourselves with lunch. There was much debate about whether it was one hour (as I had read) or 1 1/2 hours (as Fred had read). After 3.6 miles, we reached the top of the mountain, only to find more land as far as the eye could see. Our destination was supposed to be right on the water. As we decided to cut our losses and turn back, a guy and two kids in a pick-up truck drove round the bend. He said our mistake was not uncommon. We simply took a wrong turn. Back at the house, I worked all afternoon after which we drove to a pub in Ahakista —nearby town — that Fred had read about. GREAT spot on the water. Awesome inside environment, too. Then on to Arundel’s on the Pier for dinner, but they were packed. On to O’Sullivans’s in Dullus, but they had stopped serving five minutes prior. These town sare “nearby” but just the most harrowing driving. Exhausting. Finally found a spot at a bar in Bantry. Nice waiter from Croatia. 

This is what the driving's like:  https://youtu.be/40FgtJmZ0aI

Saturday — Big long driving day down the Beara Peninsula. Stopped at lovely towns along the way — coffee to go in Castletownbere, lunch in Allihies on the tip of the peninsula where there were copper mines years ago. When they ran out of copper, this town of 2000 became a town of 200 when all the people left for Fall River. Then off to Michigan, and finally settling in Butte, Montana, which even today has a huge Irish population. The bartender had such a mild Irish accent that we asked him about it. He said basically he tries to make sure he can be understood because of his job as a bartender with a lot of foreigners. He said, My boss—nobody can understand him! 

The café where I got my coffee.

A defunct mine.

After miles and miles of a winding one-lane mountain road — what felt like being on a roller coaster and made Fred car sick— we stopped at Arundel’s again to make a reservation in person because I cannot figure out the phone. Nothing again this night, but we’re on for tomorrow night. While I was inside trying to get someone’s attention, a super handsome striking and charismatic guy walked in, exchanged some niceties with the clientele, and went back outside to hang at the wall by the water with some other people. He was a cross between Burt Bacharach and Robert Redford. Tall, tan, white haired, Ray Bans, very white straight teeth. I was convinced he was famous, but I guess I’ll never know. Once home and showered, we left again to go back to O'Sullivan’s, the place we tried to eat last night at but were there too late.  Lovely setting in their outside beer garden, with a band across the street playing Americana stuff… America, The Band, Eagles, John Fogerty. When they played the Bee Gees song “Massachusetts” there was much cheering, so I think there were some Bay Staters in the house. On the way to O'Sullivans, we saw that same guy in the same spot on the top of the mountain in the pick-up truck. This time his kid was driving. Looks like he was teaching him to drive (at the age of maybe 12). We rolled down our windows as we passed, and at the same time we said, “Figured we’d/you'd take the car this time!”    

This is the bar across the street. They posted this to their FB from that night. https://www.facebook.com/longboatbar/videos/pcb.10160294105759042/712322449836579

Fred's very good-looking tuna melt.

SUNDAY  A lazy morning — intentionally lazy, as we needed it.  When our AirBNB host learned we’re going to Arundel’s tonight, she told us that Graham Norton was married this weekend (he lives in Ahakista) and is having parties at Arundel’s all weekend, and that Elton John was there last night!  That was NOT the handsome guy I saw, but now it seems he may very well have been a Hollywood type !I can’t wait to see if anyone’s there tonight! She said to go early. It is the most beautiful setting. I did a couple of hours of work this am, and Fred drew in our yard, after which we left to spend a few hours in downtown Bantry — he, sketching, I, blogging. I had lots of tea at busy little spot called Box of Frogs. A few hours in, the crowd thinned and I ordered a protein shake and asked them if they heard Elton John’s in town. They acted all interested, but later, when I was leaving, the guy said, So if you see Lady Gaga tonight, put in a good word about Box of Frogs!  I said, WHAT? He said, Apparently she was to be Elton John’s guest at the wedding! I said, You knew more than I did all along! And he said, Ah but I don’t believe a word of it…

My wonderful hosts at Box of Frogs.

Lovely dinner at Arundel’s tonight but no stars, as they were all at Graham Norton’s place next door/across the street. You could see the tents, bonfires, hear the thump of bass. Very fun but so frustrating to be so close, and yet so far… 

A café with a conscience, Box of Frogs. 

Arundel's by the Pier

My seafood chowder. 

Pretty specials board.

The bar at Arundel's

Coveside seating at Arundel's.

Arundel's is the the white building on the right.
The white area on the far left are the tents at Graham Norton's house.

Closest I could get to the party....

We brought our drinks down the pier to get that view of the party.

MONDAY  Last day. Work for me — oddly picking up, just in time! — and also doing household stuff like a dishwasher run, 40-minute HIIT workout (second one in 21 days…), Fred’s drawing and I dropped off recycling, filled the tank, bought farewell gin & tonics in a  can for tonight. Now in a café where I overheard that Cher and Adele were in attendance this weekend also!

If nothing eventful happens tomorrow on the way to the airport (God willing!) this will be my final post! 

So, until next trip—thank you for reading. 

Tallyho, Ballycotton!

Sunday we left Cork City and first drove to St. Finnbarr’s Cemetery and to a town called Cobh (pronounced Cove) where so many left for a better life over a century ago. Sadly, one of those ships was the Titanic. We never did get to Cobh, though, because the directions we plugged in required a ferry so we headed on to Ballycotton and will catch Cobh on our way to Bantry next week. 

We arrived at our lovely AirBNB which is above a little shop and is quite busy and loud during the day and the early morning, which I kind of like, and nothing a little white noise can't drown out for Fred, who has a hard time tuning it out. Had lunch at Blackbird — great space --  fried monkfish and chips. Later, I had tea at the cafe below our apartment while Fred walked and explored and drew. Mary Ivers -- whom Fred met via FB looking for ancestry and is a second cousin once removed -- dropped by and we made a plan for coffee in the am. Dinner at Schooners where the bartender and his daughter knew people with all the last names of Fred’s ancestors: Walsh, Lane, O’Keefe, Ivers. Funny. 

Evening view out our kitchen window.

Tumbling roses on a white-washed wall.

 

The hydrangeas here are insane. Ballycotton had a Bermuda feel to me.

Sweet touches.

A message from the beyond. If you know, you know.

Morning view from our kitchen.

Monday — 9:30 coffee with Mary Ivers at her sister's home, two doors down from where we were staying. Coincidental. She is a fascinating person -- a nun who left Ballycotton for Equador where she works with the indigenous. She is my kind of nun -- irreverent and spunky. She stayed with us till 12:30 at which point I dropped Fred off in Churchtown South, basically a small crossing of two streets, where his great grandmother Ellie O'Keefe was born. I walked and chatted with my folks. We had dinner at Schooners, a little family pub in the center of town. 

Tuesday. The Fourth of July. Dinner at Ballymaloe House. (Pronounced Ballymaloo.) This is a famous restaurant run by chef Darina Allen, Ireland's Julia Child. I hate to be negative — I think we’re glad we went but we remembered we don’t do well with sitting at a table in a restaurant. What IS that????  We tend to sit at the bar when we're in the States. NOT to chat up the other bar sitters, but there's just something less precious about the setting of a bar.  One of our worst nights out was an early-on wedding anniversary at Number 9 Park, on Beacon Hill. The tiny little artful dishes take all the joy out of eating for me... I'm a fast eater. It's just a bad combo. Fred's fish and chips course (not really called that) could fit on a spatula.

The food was all very tasty -- especially the  ice cream for dessert. Insanely good. Then little truffles. Had a cocktail on a balcony first. 

The people watching was very good. We had a waitress named Caoimhe to whom I said, Guess what, Caoimhe, I know how to spell your name! She lit up. So cute. She was about 18 I would say, with braces. Caoimhe (pronounced QUEEvah) is a friend's daughter’s name. Later she told me she loved my outfit so naturally she’s my favorite all-time human :)   The clientele was interesting. VERY varied. One couple we’d seen at the Blackbird pub -- super outdoorsy looking. She doesn't drink. He does. She was loud and super annoying in the Blackbird, but quiet here. Again -- the atmosphere is stifling when you could sneeze and blow your $60 amuse bouche right off your plate.  Naturally she was subdued. There was a young couple who were also very quiet. Barely spoke to each other. She was a cross between Laura Linney and Amy Adams. Very cute. Her husband had the same cuteness quotient. Another table of two generations were there to celebrate the parents anniversary. I later saw them in town where T-shirts that said "Would you marry me again" on the front, and something irreverent on the back. Another table was two seemingly gay guys and a large woman. She asked her male waiter all kinds of questions about his life and goals and looked him up from head to toe after each question. 

We were in one of many rooms of this large estate. The wallpaper was stained and the white marble fireplace dirty.. maybe they’ve taken a hit during the pandemic. Who hasn’t? We had another waiter who was a lovely woman my age about. I asked if she has ever served Gabriel Byrne (Fred heard he’s been here) and she said, Yes, actually, I have! Will you be seeing him? As if we were friends! hahaha!  THAT's the kind of clientele at the Ballymaloe House!

Tuesday — Not a big day. Fred drew. I had tea and blogged at Ballymaloe House, a separate sweet little cafe where I stayed a long time after dropping Fred off in the middle of nowhere. Later, I moved him to another area in Churchtown South, but stayed this time. I was just too tired to go back and forth. I stayed. He was drawing the house of his great grandmother Ellie O'Keefe and asked the woman who came out of the house  —Kathleen O'Connell who lived there if she knew the name, and it turns out both her grandmothers were O'Keefes.  I said, and you turned out okay! Thankfully she let out a big laugh. What's curious (but maybe not) is that she was more shy and reserved when Fred was there alone, but when I came, she popped back out of the house and was chatty and asked for a selfie! I think it was because I came and made it less awkward to be chatting up a man, asking for a selfie. She's an only child and inherited the home and barley farm. Back in town we did the Cliff Walk, quite stunning. So much less retricted than cliff walks in the States.  I had some work to do before dinner, but then had dinner at Sea Church — another Church of Ireland turned into a restaurant. (Nothing makes me happier than the sacrilege of this!  They want to steal a country? There's a price to pay once we get it back! 

Wednesday — Coffee with Mary Ivers again and learned even more -- history and life lessons. Then off to Midleton -- home of Jameson's. We were driving home and passed one of those honor system farm stands and pulled over. It was a closed cabinet sort of structure, inside of which were so much more than we'd anticipated. Not the usual baskets of anemic tomatoes and gnarly summer squash, but tons of canned preserves -- jams, beets, chili sauce (!), etc. 

I brought Mary with me to pick up Fred because she had some more stuff to tell him about another Ivers who was interested in talking to Fred. John Ivers. He lives by the water and would meet us outside the house if we were interested. I dropped Mary back in town and Fred and drove out to the other Ivers house — we had a phone number. Fred called it and left a message, and just when we were about to head home, a man called Fred's name. John and Patricia Ivers had us up to the house to chat geneaology and have tea and homemade fresh-from-the-oven scones!  Fred and John are third cousins once removed. Whatever that means. 

This jam was made by the woman who lives in the old O'Keefe house -- not the one with the Barley farm, but the one in Churchtown South. A widowed English woman lives there now. 

Tomorrow we're off to Bantry, our last stop. And all vacation. No ancestry to speak of. 

Weekend in Cork City

These next four days were much of the same, so they get ONE post.

Thursday, we left the little hamlet of Kells and drove to Cork City via Shanacloon (a section of Kilgobnet) where the Sullivans came from (on my mother’s side) and then Kilgarvan (for more of Fred’s roots —Shea). These were just quick drive-throughs since we hadn’t any more to go on than the names of the towns. They were SMALL, sometimes just the intersection of two roads. The driving, by the way, is getting much smoother. I no longer need two hands to put the car in reverse, and changing gears is less lurchy as I now know the difference between the locations of first and third gears. 

Fred's caption: You can take the girl out of Kilgobnet, but you can't take the Kilgobnet out of the girl.

Kilgarvan.

Once in Cork, we easily found our AirBNB which was good enough, but for a few huge mosquito/leggy spider things in corner cobwebs. It’s an uneasy feeling to be in someone else’s home to begin with, but for there to be bugs and webs is a tough start. And super old worn-out carpeting. Ugh :(  And no top sheet on the bed…. hoping to God they wash the duvet cover in between guests. The patio of which they boast was completely overgrown with weeds and branches. But in true Irish fashion, I will not write a negative review. Instead I will “say nothing.” 

Good book (per Fred) called "Say Nothing."

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/22/books/review/say-nothing-patrick-radden-keefe.html

Trad music at The Corner House per Chris and Natalie’s suggestion, and dinner at the bar at Gallaghers — both of which were in our ‘hood, the “Victorian Quarter.”  

Here them here:  https://youtu.be/Y0jPKCzD310

Dapper fellow!

Cork was a whiplash experience after our very rural windblown coastal visit. It was a bit jarring for us. So many people, so much grit. Fred found the areas of his roots to be quite grim in a different way than the rocky ruins of Kells. Not so romantic, I would say. Plus no Brian, Ann-Marie, Pat or Mary Lynch… And no Chris and Natalie. 

Friday in Cork poured — as did Thursday, I believe. Fred got soaked and trudged around a lot. Have I mentioned we brought no rain coats to Ireland? I went on a walking tour with a NJ couple and Noel, the guide, a retired entertainment journalist. Very sadly, I got word halfway through the tour that my uncle had died. I walked through the rest of the tour in a daze, texting my sons the news, and stole away at the end to head back to a church to light a candle. I'm not religious but figured it can't hurt and somehow it does feel good to do. 

Fred and I had drinks in our living by the open door that led to the patio, and then dinner up the street outside at a pizza /tapas place. Horrendous pizza but we both ate every bite.

Saturday.. lovely morning... Fred off to draw and I blogged at a perfect coffee shop with the best vibe in a cute neighborhood called St. Lukes, right where that pizza place was the night before. Sarah Vaughn, Chet Baker, Frank Sinatra wafted through the air… after a TON of Elton John probably because he was in town for a concert, which was apparently amazing. "Two and half hours, at 75 years old. He really plays the piano well." was what I overheard later. I was inside and outside at times because of the rain, which of course, came. And went.

St. Luke's Square in the Victorian Quarter of Cork.

Later, walking down a narrow street with a church at the end, I heard bells chiming what seemed to be Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star. I thought, is this some kind of joke? I asked an old man coming my way if what I was hearing was what we know as Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star... or the Alphabet Song, but his response to my question, which I posed every which way, was always: "Those are the chimes! Yes! Is it three o'clock? Well, yes, then those are the chimes!"  There was a big tower attached to this church which I climbed only to learn that the bells were coming from THIS tower and they can be rung by anyone who climbs it! They have instructions on how to play FOUR songs. Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star, the theme from Top Gun (hello????), Amazing Grace and Ode to Joy. Naturally, I chose the Grace song for the whole town to hear. Super fun!

The Church Tower

The climb.

The ropes to pull the bells.

 
The View.

Pouring rain again, I found refuge in a "bun" shop called Dolce, had tea and a little tiny cake they gave me for free — like a cream puff and then met Fred for a pint at Mutton Lane Inn Pub — a pub a very distant relation once owned. VERY cool spot… Then walked back and left again for dinner at Son of a Bun where I had a great salad and Fred had an epic burger. We chatted a bit with a guy named Ed Crosbie whose family is famous in Cork for owning the newspaper for generations. He was very knowledgeable about world politics.. and liberal, thank God.

Mutton Lane Inn Pub (all three of these)