HPT in Ireland

A Picture-Perfect Waterfall

2010-06-19T10:54:00.000-07:00

On the way back from Dingle, we stopped in Killarney National Park, Ireland’s largest, for some light hiking. We stopped near Muckross House, a palatial estate, and Heather, John and Carol walked in to see Torc waterfall. The verdant forest, vines and wildflowers at this time of year, and views over a string of lakes, made it a fragrant as well as scenic stroll. Tom had duly warned John and Heather about Carol’s penchant for “death marches.” So when the group reached the falls, John and Heather made the smart choice to stop for picture taking. Carol, of course, made a vain attempt to climb farther to see the TOP of the falls. Even she gave up after the trail kept curving ‘round and ‘round the mountainside. The brief stop at the falls was well-spent by John, who once again managed to capture some of the breathtaking views of his ancestral homeland.

Another Magical Escape

2010-06-19T10:02:00.001-07:00

It is Saturday. Bright sunshine is painting the streets of Rosscarbery. But sweet sorrow approaches. The time we have left in Ireland can now be counted in hours. Life is full of twists and turns. Some sweet. Some bitter. It was a happy bend in the road of our lives that led us here to West Cork in December 2008 and again this past week.

This blog has been our attempt to share a magical experience with family and friends. Words can hardly do justice to the way this place feels. A small town, far from the beaten tourist track, Rosscarbery has become a special place for us. The people here have made it so. With their welcoming good nature, they have once again decorated our lives with memories to cherish through the years.

Is Anyone Really Surprised?

2010-06-19T09:57:00.000-07:00

Returning to the place where we discovered the game of rings has been sweet for John and Heather. They’ve both won two matches each against Carol and Tom. It may not be possible for them to have a rubber match showdown because it is difficult to play rings while the televisions are being watched in pubs. The match won by Heather on Friday was sweetened by the involvement of two young children who stopped in for a wee bit with their parents. The children here are cute beyond belief!

Check Out Rescue Hill

2010-06-19T09:55:00.001-07:00

Bartenders here know how to pour fine pints. On more than one occasion this past week, we were well-treated by Mark, who was picking up shifts at O’Brien’s. As will happen during bar banter, we learned that Mark, 25, is an outstanding musician. He shared an acoustic album with us, which we listened to and enjoyed. We’re delighted to recommend to our friends back in the states that they find the band Rescue Hill on Facebook!

Well-dressed Roads

2010-06-19T09:52:00.001-07:00

Some of the old roads we’ve traveled on are so narrow that roadside hedges rub up against both sides of our rental car. But many of the roadsides are embroidered with some of the prettiest wild flowers. One in particular caught John’s eye. They are foxgloves and native to mountains in Europe, not Ireland. But they still grow freely here, blooming from May to September, we were told.

A Holiday Bromance

2010-06-19T09:47:00.000-07:00

With the departure of Emily and Ali on Wednesday, a holiday bromance ended. John and Ali became fast friends. They share an interest in music and good drink. Between last Saturday and Wednesday, the two were almost inseparable. At one point when put on the spot about his bromance with Ali, John described it as a relationship that is “disturbingly comfortable.”

Our Tourist Excursion

2010-06-18T03:05:00.000-07:00

We haven’t felt like tourists most of the time we’ve been in Ireland. Rosscarbery has been so welcoming that we feel sort of like relatives who have strayed back to the old homestead. That said, we agreed before leaving Iowa that we would breakaway for one tourist excursion.

This happened Thursday. With Heather behind the wheel for more than three hours we drove across Ireland’s sunsplashed west country from County Cork to Dingle, which is in Kerry. For Carol and Tom, it was a return to a place they’d visited in the mid-1990s with their dear friends from Jersey, Marilyn and Brian. For John and Heather, it was a chance to go back about as close as you can to Iowa and still be in Ireland.

We arrived on an amazingly beautiful day. We had booked accommodations at the Dingle Pub, right in the center of this small seaport town. The Dingle Pub is both a pub and a B&B. The man who runs the show here is Tom Geaney. Chances are he will be here if you ever wander into the place. Our stay here was wonderful. For a glimpse at this place go to www.thedinglepub.com and enjoy!

Our host at the Dingle Pub encouraged us to take advantage of the lovely weather. The landscape was astounding and while it was not without visitors, there were times when it felt as if we had the entire peninsula to ourselves. The whole of the afternoon was spent driving and stopping to see sights such as a prehistoric fort, authentic Irish potato famine cottages and a church from around the time of St. Patrick. Oh, there was one stop at a brewpub, followed by a drive to Connor Pass. A narrow road with hair-pin turns took us to a viewing area 1,509 feet above the town of Dingle. John, of course, went mad taking photos and poor Heather had to drive the treacherous road up and back. Tom and Carol are enjoying the tourist life.

Today, it is back to Rosscarbery, but before we go, we thought we’d share a few more photos from our visit.

A Day In Dingle

2010-06-17T11:11:00.000-07:00

Today we spent a day driving to Dingle. The views were spectacular and the weather was incredible...We're going to let the pictures tell the story.

Sightseeing By The Sea

2010-06-16T11:11:00.001-07:00

Ali, Emily and Carol spent part of a day touring the pretty little coast towns near Rosscarbery, starting with Glandore and continuing on to Castletownshend before turning inland to Skibbereen. Glandore was postcard pretty, with brightly colored houses hugging the steep banks, moss-covered rock outcroppings and boats dotting the harbor. Of course, none of us had brought a camera. So, without much faith in the process, we took a few shots with Carol’s BlackBerry. The technology gods smiled on us, though, and we got nice shots of Emily doing yoga atop a small pillar, and Emily and Ali and Ali and Carol with Glandore harbor as a backdrop. Skibbereen has a bustling downtown, with grocery, furniture, hardware, jewelry, clothing and shoe stores, as well as many fine restaurants and tea shops, much like Clonakilty. It’s probably what many American downtowns were like until the 1960s or so, before suburban superstores sucked the retail life from main streets.

The Regatta

2010-06-16T10:52:00.001-07:00

For such a small hamlet, Rosscarbery features a surprising number of things to do, often surrounding a sport of some sort and accompanying betting. On Sunday evening, for example, onlookers were treated to a regatta in Rosscarbery’s harbor, involving teams from Rosscarbery and neighboring towns. There were different age levels of rowers, from schoolchildren to adults. It was a lovely sight: The sun still shone brightly, and the rowers were decked out in bright colors. Quite a crowd gathered to watch by the boathouse. Heather and Carol found a good viewing spot by joining the line of cars that pulled off to park on the bridge that leads into town. Unlike with road bowling, they didn’t actually see money change hands for betting. Since schoolkids were involved, perhaps the audience refrained from gambling. But don’t bet on it.

Karaoke At De Barra

2010-06-16T10:49:00.000-07:00

During a stop in Clonakilty on our December 2008 trip to Cork, we stumbled into De Barra, a bar that has long hosted live music and served as a hangout for musicians. This time, the entire gang of six hired a taxi van to take us there Tuesday night for the express purpose of attending karaoke night. Some vowed only to witness, but we figured with appropriate lubrication, a brave few might sing. As so often happens in Ireland, one of the most enjoyable parts of the night occurred entirely by serendipity. We happened to run into three American brothers and struck up a conversation: Chris, the oldest; middle brother Jon; and mountain of a man Ted, 21, who’s playing football and studying economics at a small college in Minnesota. They grew up in the Milwaukee area and are now scattered to California, New York and Minnesota, but rejoined for a tour of Ireland. We enjoyed comparing notes on America and Ireland, and, it turns out, both groups had planned a karaoke night out with some ringers in attendance. Emily, conservatory-trained at Syracuse University, wowed the crowd with her soaring soprano on “Jolene,” made famous by Dolly Parton. Ali, a bona fide rock star, outdid all comers in creativity with his hip-hop version of “Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve. And Chris clearly had taken many turns behind the mike on karaoke nights, whipping up the crowd for singalongs on the chorus of Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline.” The singing was organized as a lighthearted competition, complete with four “American Idol”-style judges, only they were all very complimentary. As the adage goes in American news writing, a good time was had by all.

Keeping The Lines Clean

2010-06-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

Draft beer seems to taste better in Ireland. One reason for this is that the lines from the kegs to the taps are cleaned out regularly. For example, once a month, Barry O’Driscoll arrives in Rosscarbery to clean the Guinness lines at the town’s pubs. While working at Nolan’s yesterday, he talked about his job. Usually he arrives in the morning. It takes about 40 minutes or so to clean a line. Most pubs have more than a dozen handles. Beer cannot be drawn from lines while being cleaned. Obviously, customers would be less than happy if beer were unavailable to them during a pub’s open hours. This does put some pressure on O’Driscoll to complete his rounds before the onset of afternoon. The problem, he said, “is that you can’t be everywhere early in the day.”

Executing The BBQ

2010-06-16T10:44:00.000-07:00

John caught some fire on Tuesday. In another brash display of behavior seldom seen from Americans in Ireland, John grilled beef and pork roasts outside. Under blue skies dappled by puffy white clouds, he turned out two masterpieces. Working with a gas grill graciously provided by Sean and Betty from Rosscarbery’s Abbey Bar, John also sautéed a mixture of mushroom, onions, peppers and potatoes that accompanied a salad and wonderful rice and smoked fish side dish made by Emily.

For the sake of full disclosure, it must be noted that this blog entry is being written in a pub. A handful of patrons at the bar have just been asked if they have any idea how many Americans come to Ireland and end up grilling their own dinner. After some shrugging and head scratching, the locals were content to say that until someone tells them differently they will believe that John is the first. As one patron said, “Americans come here to kiss the Blarney Stone, tour the Ring of Kerry, drink in pubs and peep at castles. I’ve never heard of anyone who came here to cook on an outdoor grill.’’

Amazing Hand Dryers

2010-06-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

Maybe we are too easily amused. For example, we’ve had conversations about sparkling cleanliness of the restrooms in all three of Rosscarbery’s pubs. The restrooms at The Abbey have motion sensors that turn on the lights when someone moves into the room, which is something that should be standard in restrooms everywhere. The prize for restroom amenity goes to Nolan’s, which has astoundingly powerful hand dryers. Unlike some hand dryers, which will leave you damp after what seems like an eternity, the hand dryers at Nolan’s comfortably blast hands dry in about 10 seconds.

Orchestrating A BBQ

2010-06-15T10:56:00.000-07:00

The sky was socked with puffy gray clouds most of Monday. They cleared out by early evening, but the less than perfect weather provided an ideal backdrop for us to hang around Rosscarbery. Truth be told, there was some lingering over pints with locals in the pubs. But the time was mostly well spent, planning for a Tuesday feast.

John has not been near an outdoor cooking appliance since last week. You can see the withdrawal pains in his eyes. Then in the morning, Emily and Ali hosted a wonderful breakfast of eggs, bagels and salmon, prepared by Emily. Her intentions were sweet, of course. But to the Iowans, this was an unspoken challenge. It was as if she was saying, “OK, let’s see what you can do!”

The feast is tentatively scheduled for late Tuesday afternoon. Sean at The Abbey Bar has graciously agreed to let John use a gas grill. Ali and Emily purchased meat provisions on Sunday in Clonakilty. And, as this is being written mid-morning Tuesday, the sun is shining brightly. Sadly, five out of your six pilgrims have not yet seen the sun. In Ireland, planning sessions can be grueling and last long into the wee hours of the morning.

The Doppelganger Incident

2010-06-14T04:43:00.000-07:00

On our last visit, we met a fine local musician Ger Deasy. So we were thrilled to learn that Ger had a gig at Bernie’s Bar in nearby Clonakilty. We sat in the back of the pub, waiting for Ger to start his gig. Suddenly a chap walked up to John and engaged him in conversation. It was as if the two of them were long lost buddies. After a half minute or so, the chap realized that he had mistaken John for someone else. Even though no harm was done, the chap apologized profusely. John learned later that he apparently looks just some fellow named Jimmy.

Playing In The Road

2010-06-14T04:36:00.000-07:00

John came to Ireland with a keen interest in road bowling. Popular in County Cork, but no doubt seldom seen by American tourists circling around the Ring of Kerry, this is a curious sport. It seems to have been invented by someone who grew tired of hearing his mother say, “Don’t play in the road.’’ The object of the game is to hurl a metal ball as far as possible down a country road and then go chase after it and throw it again. Players get a running start and then pitch the ball, softball style, as far as possible down the road ahead. The running start makes the endeavor look a bit odd. The player who reaches the end of the road, so to speak, with the fewest number of throws wins. Meanwhile, spectators wager on everything. We do not know whether anyone bet on Americans showing up for the match.

Road bowling results and schedules are printed in the local paper. But since matches are held out on country roads, tourists wouldn’t necessarily encounter them. We started asking around about road bowling soon after our arrival here in Rosscarbery. Pascal, the problem-solver at O’Brien’s, was kind enough to point us in the direction of a noonish Sunday match. With Heather at the wheel, we set out in the general direction of where the match was located. We knew we were heading the right way because we saw a sign, “Caution: Road Bowling in Progress.’’ But after that the road twisted and turned and went off in different directions. There were no more signs, but after a while, Heather took a turn, and we arrived upon a small crowd of people in the road, with two cars following behind. As we pulled up, a man waved us on, as if to say, “It’s OK. You can drive through.’’ But Heather told him we wanted to see the match, so we pulled up behind the two cars following the small crowd of people. Heather, John and Carol got out to follow the match. Tom got behind the wheel for the first time and drove about a half mile or so.

The cool thing is that the bowlers and spectators were so pleased to have an American audience that they offered John a chance to make a throw, which he did without hurting himself or anyone else. It is worth mentioning here that John’s throw made an impression on at least one person. In one of those odd men’s room moments at Bernie’s Bar in Clonakilty, a man told John, “I saw you earlier out at the road bowling match.”

Taming A Wild Beast

2010-06-13T05:55:00.000-07:00

Ireland is home to some of the most beautiful yet most vicious golf courses on the planet. Rosscarbery’s golf course sits by the sea just a few miles south of the square. The six of us spent the better part of Saturday afternoon on the links, playing 18 holes. With narrow fairways and greens the size of a postage stamp, the course proved challenging. Yet all of us had our moments when we were able to tame the beast. John authored the most spectacular shot of the day. He had pushed his approach shot on to a grassy knoll overlooking the torturous 10^th hole. Almost thigh deep in the wild rough, John was able to slide enough of his pitching wedge under the ball to coax it from the grass. The ball landed maybe three inches from the cup. It is probably worth mentioning here that John had several spectacular shots from the rough, yet he didn’t seem to understand that the rough is not necessarily where he wanted to be all the time.

The Problem Solver

2010-06-13T05:53:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this, you might want to hoist a glass at some point to Pascal, owner of O’Brien’s. One of Rosscarbery’s three pubs, O’Brien’s sits high on the main square. Pascal has owned it for about six years. Anyway, the six of us drifted in there around 11 Saturday morning only because we hoped someone might be able to point us in the direction of a place to get the voltage converter needed to keep John’s laptop up and running here in Ireland. While our pints of Guinness were setting, Pascal produced two converters. Then he filled us in on particulars of road bowling, a sport that we are eager to see while here. “It’s like you’re the concierge of Rosscarbery,’’ Ali said to Pascal. Indeed, were it not for Pascal, this blog would have been in deep peril.

Two New Travelers

2010-06-13T05:45:00.001-07:00

Up to this point, your travelers in Ireland have been John and Heather, Tom and Carol. Two new pilgrims joined the adventure Saturday – Ali and Emily. We did not just find them under some high top in a pub. Emily is the daughter of Carol’s brother Bob – hence her niece. Ali is Emily’s husband. He is from England, a fact none of us held against him on the first day as the World Cup match between the U.S. and England approached. For those of you who did not catch the score, the game ended in a 1-1 tie. While the conclusion may have been unsatisfactory for fans of the two sides, the fact that England could not defeat America delighted about two dozen Scotsmen who stopped at the Abbey on Saturday. Clad in green and white striped soccer jerseys, the Scots flew in on Friday to spend Saturday road bowling in West Cork. “We don’t like the English,’’ one of the Scots volunteered to us, just so we’d know why they were rooting for the U.S. and singing songs about Barack Obama. Upon asking why the Scottish did not like the English, we were told that enumerating all the grievances the Scots have against the Brits would take too long and would spoil a crackling good Saturday afternoon. Anyway, Ali took great interest in the game, but, well aware of the lack of love between Scots and Brits, he watched the game quietly in the corner. The result did not please him. One Scotsman put it in the form of a question, “You realize, of course, that America just beat England 1-1?’’

A Return To Rosscarbery

2010-06-12T04:51:00.000-07:00

We took it as a good sign that the sun bore through the ashen clouds as we stepped onto the tarmac at Cork Airport. Yes, we were back in Ireland, heading once again to a place that is magical to us!

For the next week or so we will be sharing bits and pieces of our return to Rosscarbery.

After being chauffeured here by Heather, who clearly has driven on the left side of the road in a previous life, we were swept off our feet again. Little has changed since we were last here in December 2008. We strolled the square of Rosscarbery – more or less the main drag of the town – in warming late afternoon sunshine. We sat down to tea, laid out by Nora Hubbert, the woman from whom we rent a lovely two-bedroom apartment here. We hoisted a pint at the Abbey, where we were delighted to visit with owners Sean and Betty. And, of course, we visited Nolan’s and O’Brien’s, you know, just to make sure they still remembered how to pour. Silly us. They did. We topped off the day with a stop for fish and chips at Roc’s, a small takeaway place that we wish we could take away with us back to Iowa.

Our Time In Ireland

2008-12-19T17:30:00.000-08:00

This blog chronicles our visit to Rosscarbery, Ireland in December, 2008, by four Iowans.

Part pilgrimage, part pure escape, the stay ended up exceeding our wildest expectations. The credit for this goes to good people of Rosscarbery.

They were beyond kind. Witty, generous and helpful, they embroidered moment after moment with good cheer. For seven days, they were fast friends to four Americans who had pressed themselves like iron-on patches to the social fabric of the community.

In the days leading up to our departure to Ireland, we would tell friends the trip was months in the making. Perhaps it was more than that.

Yes, our conversations about going to Ireland began in the spring. But now that we’ve returned with so many memories to treasure, we could be convinced that maybe this trip was, in a spiritual sense, years in the making.

Rosscarbery is a scenic, unpretentious village with a gentle soul. Located on the southwest coast of County Cork within earshot of the sea, the community has a population of about 950 year-round residents. It is off the well-worn tourist track of foreigners and too often given short shrift by guide books.

Despite its low profile, Rosscarbery has an attraction that most other cities in Ireland cannot claim – a direct family connection to John, one of the four Iowans and the shooter of the photos below.

The tie goes back to Ellen Wolfe, who left Rosscarbery in the shadow of the 1840s potato famine with her husband William Hawks of nearby Bandon, Ireland. They settled in Iowa and so many decades later, John, one of their many descendants was back in the clan. With his wife, Heather, and their friends Carol and Tom, in tow, John kept the memory of his ancestors alive with church and heritage center visits.

Ireland is a place where the phrase “Cead Mile Failte!” (One hundred thousand welcomes!) is more than just a tourist board slogan. Reaching back thousands of years, it is a greeting that reflects the ageless yearning of our species to commune in a spirit of good nature.

From Nora Hubbert, the craft shop proprietor who was keeper of our apartment over looking Rosscarbery square, to the 9-year-old who beat us at a ring toss game in The Abbey Bar, everyone we encountered treated us as if they were sincerely happy we were there.

All this made leaving on Friday, Dec. 12, for the airport at Shannon a sad experience.

Today, it’s difficult to say whether the fondness in our hearts for this one small town in west County Cork is the result of an accident or spiritual design.

But this much is certain: Genealogical research years ago by John’s family paid off. It lit our way to Rosscarbery, making all of us richer for our time away.

Eating well, very well

2008-12-11T08:38:00.000-08:00

Ireland is bit like Iowa when it comes to dining. Food snobs have traditionally given the local cuisine in both places a bad rap. The four of us know there are fine places to eat in Iowa. Now, we also know there is wonderful food to be had in Ireland, at least in Rosscarbery.

Gossip, a full-service restaurant, and Roc’s, a delightful, traditional fish-and-chips takeaway place, have already been mentioned. We were also most impressed with Lily House, which calls itself a Chinese restaurant but actually offers more than Chinese fare. For example, one dish in the gut-busting meal for three that we had on Tuesday evening was Malaysian.

The place we’ve eaten the most here is Pilgrim’s Rest Coffee House and Restaurant. Serving breakfast and lunch through the afternoon, Pilgrim’s Rest is an exceptional eatery. For starters, it is bold enough to have an Illy coffeemaker from Italy. This is daring in a country that worships at the altar of tea. Breakfasts are ample and delicious, owing to the fact that all ingredients are fresh.

Alex Suss and Joanne Durrant opened their restaurant here five years ago. Alex is from Switzerland. Joanne is from England. They definitely know what they’re doing. This is a place that tourists passing through might not know about, but they should.

Lord of the Rings

2008-12-11T08:34:00.001-08:00

Oh, they shoot darts in Rosscarbery. Indeed, some lads were playing 301 Monday evening at The Abbey Bar. They made the game look easy.

They also toss rings at The Abbey. This would be a great indoor game to share with friends who might not be safe to put close to sharp objects.

The concept is similar to darts. Each player gets to toss six rings at a board outfitted with `13 cup hooks. Each cup hook has a point value. The object is to land a hook on a ring until a player hits a predetermined number, usually 200. Then, before the first person to hit the number can claim victory, he or she must land three rings on the #1 hook at the bottom of the board.

Because this blog reports the whole truth, it must be mentioned here that the HPT delegation went looking for the toughest local competition they could find. In the late afternoon Wednesday, they took on Aaron. Little did they know, he was a ringer. Aaron quickly raced past Tom and Carol and then John. For a while, it was neck-and-neck with Heather. Finally, though Aaron landed the winning ring, teaching the Americans a lesson they’d likely remember for quite a while. Oh, by the way, Aaron is 9 years old (he’ll be 10 in January).

The holy places of Ireland

2008-12-11T08:24:00.000-08:00

It might be stretching it a wee bit to suggest that John has spent as much time in churches as he has in pubs. But it is a fact that not since he was an altar boy has John genuflected as often as he has this week.

On Wednesday, John woke up at the crack of dawn to attend the daily 9 a.m. Mass at the aforementioned St. Fatchna’s. He discovered that the sacraments here can be dispensed with reverential efficiency. Mass lasted about 15 minutes.

Tuesday, he called on St. Patrick’s in Bandon, the hometown of William Hawks. Built in 1861, on a spot that had been a place of worship for centuries, St. Patrick’s is impressive. The church rises above Bandon’s bustling center-city shopping district with regal flair.

As it turned out, John slipped into St. Patrick’s between two funerals. He even served as an impromptu usher, holding the church doors open for locals bringing in flowers for the second funeral. Once an altar boy, always an altar boy.

You betcha

2008-12-11T08:23:00.000-08:00

It is about as easy to find a place to wager in Ireland as it is to find a fast-food joint in the States.

The Irish clearly enjoy games of a chance. The Mouse Races we went to on Saturday are a good example. The betting was fast and furious. And when the four Yanks strolled in, eyes lit up. Someone was heard to exclaim, “The heavy money has come in from the States!’’

Rosscarbery, for as small as it is, has a bookie on the square. One day, Heather walked in, thinking there might be a wireless connection for her laptop. A customer smiled and asked, “Do you have a hot tip for us?’’ Seeing as how she had already won money on Saturday, Heather said, “Yes, go with mouse four in the sixth race.’’

And, finally, the fondness for gaming here was put this way at one restaurant. “Oh, yes, people here will wager on just about anything,’’ we were told. “We already have bets in the kitchen on how many pieces of bread will come back from your table.’’

In the doorway of Dillon’s

2008-12-11T08:20:00.000-08:00

The last time Tom and Carol were in Ireland, their partners in crime were Marilyn Dillon and Brian Horton, great friends in New Jersey. Back then, they were all delighted to find Dillon’s pub in the small West Cork town of Timoleague.

Our fantasy was that if we stayed in front of the pub long enough, one of Marilyn’s cousins would come out and ask if she’d like to have the pub. While we waited, Brian snapped a classic photo of Marilyn leaning against the door. That photo hangs on the wall of Tom and Carol’s house back in Des Moines.

Because we miss Marilyn and Brian and think of them often, and because we wanted to share a piece of our past with John and Heather, we returned to Timoleague. Carol leaned on the same spot where Marilyn leaned more than a decade ago. A photo was snapped.

Coincidentally, when we visited with Marilyn and Brian, Dillon’s was closed. It was also closed on Wednesday. If Marilyn had been given the pub back then, we know it would have been open.

The magical history tour

2008-12-11T08:14:00.001-08:00

Today will be our last in Rosscarbery. Tomorrow we will venture north through counties Kerry and Clare, before returning to Shannon for our Saturday flight back to the States. Today is likely to be bittersweet for us.

It is amazing how life works sometimes. Long lost echoes of time drew us to Rosscarbery.

More than 150 years after they left Ireland, William Hawks and Ellen Wolfe, John’s ancestors, spoke to family and the new friends tagging along: This is my Bandon. This is my Rosscarbery. Hear the sounds we heard. Men, women and children living, working, praying, playing and laughing. Smell the turf fires burning into dusk. This is our West Cork, with green hills, churches, castle ruins and narrow, squinting roads. This is the land we once knew, with proud little towns that have risen up through sunshine and rain for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Yes, this is the place we left behind so long ago, to make a better life for ourselves and those who would follow. Don’t make too much of what we did. Just enjoy the place where we lived while you can, and remember it when you like. That will keep us living for another 150 years.

Drive time in West Cork

2008-12-10T03:23:00.002-08:00

After spending four days as little miss know-it-all with Garmin GPS in backseat, Heather got behind the wheel. Driving on the left-hand side of the road is challenging for most Americans, but for Heather, it was as if she had been driving here her entire life. Heather's theory: “It’s from all those years of playing Pole Position.’’

Irish officials say pork off

2008-12-10T03:23:00.001-08:00

Irish hospitality has outdone itself this week. Consider that they have four Americans from Iowa casting about in County Cork. Sure, the Iowans love the scenery and the good people they’ve met in Rosscarbery.

But being Iowans, who all happen to work in the media, they are accustomed at least one jigger per day of pig news. So, to assure that the Iowans would not be incapacitated by nostalgic longing for pig news, someone in Ireland arranged for the headlines here to be dominated by pig news.

It seems some pigs somewhere ate some bad feed. For safety sake, Irish officials pulled all pork products off the shelves. That means no rashers, no sausage, no pork chops, no bangers. It was “Pork Off,’’ as one headline writer for a tabloid newspaper put it.

The Iowans heard the news Sunday in O’Mahoney’s, a small pub in Ardfield. At first, they thought it was a joke concocted for the benefit of four Iowans who might be going through pig-news withdrawal. But soon enough, the Iowans realized the news was both sad and true. OK, so Iowans are accustomed to pig news, but hearing this makes us feel bad for everyone touched by the episode.

Release the hounds

2008-12-10T03:17:00.000-08:00

Everyone who knows John and Heather can appreciate how much they love dogs. So, in a way, it is appropriate that our two encounters with killer canine were visited upon them. Call it the revenge of Riley and Quinn.

On Saturday, as we headed west, we turned down a lane so that John could shoot some scenery. Heather got out of the car too. Carol and Tom, being somewhat jaded perhaps, stayed in the car. While John, cap turned backward, snapped away, Heather ambled down the lane a bit. Without warning, a large black farm dog bounded out of the brush. The dog startled Heather, who began to make her way gingerly back toward the car. Clearly the dog was deliriously happy about having some human contact, indifferent to the reluctance on the part of the human. Heather ‘s every move back to the vehicle was diplomatic, sort of like a woman trying to move away from a drunk friend in a bar. For his part, the dog became even more enamored. His muddy paws left brown prints on her jeans. And poor Heather, as she finally eased into the backseat, smelled a little like a swamp mutt who’d been left out in the rain.

Monday, on our way toward the nearby sea, we stopped at a castle ruin. Across the road from a most impressive ruin, we spied more spires over the tree line. As John stepped out of the car about a dozen different dogs raced toward him, baring their fangs. As the lead dog was about to get the taste of fresh American ankle, John was able to pull himself back into the car. With all of us safely inside, we ventured forward. A woman came up to us as we rolled through a courtyard that clearly dated back to centuries ago. We had seen no “private property” signs, but still we apologized. The woman smiled. She said it was no problem. “Can we get out and take some pictures?’’ we asked. She smiled again, but shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t. Cross dogs.’’ None of us had ever heard the expression “cross dogs’’ before, but we knew enough catechism to know that “cross dogs’’ was not old Irish slang for Christian dogs.

You say it’s your birthday

2008-12-10T03:10:00.000-08:00

It is official according to Sean O’Donovan, The Abbey Bar’s publican and a man who would certainly know about such things. Talia, who turned 11 on Tuesday, became the first American girl to hear a pub in Rosscarbery sing “Happy Birthday’’ on a cell phone via satellite.

Talia is the daughter of Tom, John’s older brother. Uncle John and Aunt Heather felt bad about being 5,000 miles away, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, for Talia’s birthday. So, they figured they could celebrate in spirit.

They told just about everyone in town about Talia’s birthday. At Pascal O’Brien’s pub, they found Ger Deasy, one of the best entertainers in the land, and convinced him to waive his usual performance fee. He and Heather sang a duet, much to the glee of everyone in the pub.

Later, at about 11:30 in the evening – quite late for uncle and aunt, of course – they walked out the front door of The Abbey Bar to call Talia at home in West Des Moines. Sean, who was behind the bar, asked the good patrons if they would sing to Talia. Sean rang the bell over the bar when John and Heather came back inside with Talia on the phone. Instantly everyone in the bar, and we mean everyone, began singing.

“I can hear everyone singing!’’ Talia said.

Yes, indeed everyone did sing. As a matter of fact, even after Heather and John walked outside to say goodbye to their neice, the gang sang on at The Abbey Bar, declaring that Talia is a jolly good fellow!”

Ireland is a feast for the eyes

2008-12-10T03:00:00.000-08:00

Very little has been written here about the scenery we’ve been seeing. Part of the reason is because words could hardly do it justice. Sure, many have tried with varying degrees of success. But the truth is that no matter how gifted a wordsmith someone might be, the images he or she might paint would be impoverished facsimiles.

Monday began with angry rain beating down against our skylights and the cobblestone sidewalks below. Nora, however, promised that by afternoon, the sky would clear. John set out on foot to shoot some sights around Rosscarbery. St. Fatchna’s smiled for his lens. Later, as the sun tumbled down toward the Atlantic, we drove out south of Rosscarbery. We stormed a castle or two, photographically speaking, of course. Then, we plunged our car toward the sea. We ended up on a ramshackle road, and when we dared not drive the car any farther, John hoofed it down toward the sound of the waves. He returned with the rewards for his toil and trouble swallowed up in the belly of his camera.

Plate it again, Sam

2008-12-10T02:59:00.000-08:00

Ann Marie Haggarty waited on our tab Saturday at Gossip. She made us feel as welcome as loyal regulars from the moment we walked into the door.

Gossip, as mentioned previously, is a culinary joy. Ms. Haggarty’s wit and good humor made our experience all the more pleasurable.

Gossip’s decor is elegant yet understated. The tables are set not only with both salt and pepper grinders, but also square black plates that serve as a base for other dishes. These plates sparkled and gleamed. This may be due to the fact that they are meticulously buffed. Ann Marie informed us, with a glint in her eye, that touchie-feely customers are sometimes cautioned against touching the fine china.

“I do tell people to keep their paws off the polished plates,’’ she said.

Mouse Racing...Part 2

2008-12-08T07:25:00.000-08:00

Enjoy the mouse racing video!

Songs at The Abbey Bar

2008-12-08T07:15:00.001-08:00

Rosscarbery is home to three pubs, as mentioned previously. The Abbey Bar is nearest to our apartment, less than 20 yards from the front gate of our small residential complex. The Abbey has brought us good cheer in abundant portion during our first 60 hours or so in Ireland.

Sean and Betty O’Donovan own The Abbey Bar. In a way it feels like an old living room, as do many pubs in Ireland. Open the door, and there is a bar to the right and an open fire place to the left. Straight ahead there is a dart board, where Heather schooled John and Tom in a game of cricket. (Since Tom is writing this, he is deliberately obfuscating details to protect the wounded. He will mention that when the Americans returned to the bar, the darts were gone, perhaps to protect The Abbey’s regulars from the errant pitches of yours truly.)

The pub is friendly and welcoming. The air of hospitality is comforting. The beer is poured perfectly. On Saturday evening, after a tough night at the mouse races, we returned to find a band playing at The Abbey. After the band stop playing, we met Ger Deasy, a musician who stays quite busy around West Cork. We coaxed him over to our table, where he was kind enough to serenade Heather (yeah, OK, John and I were there, too) with a beautiful a capella version of “Fields of Atherny.”

Ger has his own CD, which after hearing him we purchased for 15 euro. The album is called “Ger Deasy’s Shenanigans.” Sean has told us that Rosscarbery was known for years as “The City of Saints and Scholars.” One of the songs on Ger’s album is “Viagra.” We wondered why the song was on the album, and Ger informed us that Viagra is made in Ireland. Somewhere, those saints and scholars might be looking on all this with doubt or amusement.

Noel Redding jammed here

2008-12-08T07:11:00.000-08:00

Noel Redding was the bassist for the Jimi Hendrix Experience. And we were at his home today. We met a great chap, John Miles , and he now owns Noel’s home. He was gracious enough to invite us to a tour of the home. Although it looked very modern and is in the process of being updated – 20 miles of wires and cables run through the manse – it dates back to the 1700s.

As a house that was home to one of the giants of music, the place comes with lore. John pointed out the spot where Noel fell out of a window and where he died. Of course, there is also the room where he jammed with Paul McCartney. While not necessarily a mystery tour, there was plenty of magic.

Scones on the stairs

2008-12-08T07:10:00.001-08:00

Our hostess for the week is Nora Hubbert. An engaging woman, she is not only proprietor of a delightfully well-stocked Irish craft and gift shop in Rosscarbery, she is also in effect our innkeeper for the week.

It was Nora with whom we corresponded, by email, to arrange our stay. Our accommodations, as you can see by clicking on an earlier link, are splendid. We are in the center of it all here. We have two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a comfy-cozy sitting room.

What sets our Croi an Bhaile apart from the ordinary is the affability of our hostess. Nora had fresh scones and other provisions waiting for us Friday. Then on Saturday we returned from a hard day of sightseeing along the Irish coast to find a bowl of fresh scones sitting on the stairs leading to our flat, a sweet and pleasant surprise for weary pilgrims indeed.

Communion in Ireland

2008-12-08T07:09:00.002-08:00

(This is Heather writing, so forgive us, Tom does a much better job!)…Despite visiting many pubs on Saturday night, the four of us were at Mass Sunday morning at 11:30. And we were not the last ones in the Cathedral. (Aunt Pat, you should really be proud of your nephew – he even had the good-feeling rosary beads with him). It was a beautiful service (and was over in less than 30 minutes).

It might be added here that the God of the Irish was quite understanding on this Sunday morning. John and Heather had in tow what would be described politely as non-regular church-goers in Tom and Carol. Had God been in a pissy mood, he could have rained fire and brimstone down upon them. But, in a way, He blessed the entire congregation. Just before Holy Communion, he chased away the sulking gray clouds that greeted parishioners as they arrived and sent out a burst of sunshine to warm the old stone walls. The Cathedral sits on a site where Christians have come to worship for about 1,400 years, according to local tour guides.

Gossip gives patrons something to talk about

2008-12-08T07:09:00.001-08:00

Saturday evening dinner was extraordinary. We ate at Gossip, a restaurant on the square in Rosscarbery. The food was absolutely wonderful. To start: A cold seafood platter, with locally smoked salmon and trout. The entrees, all delightful: Grilled sea bass, monkfish with a tomato and pancetta sauce, roast pork belly, and Heroldshire steak topped with blue cheese. The service was flawless. We could try to go on in great detail about how spectacular this place is, but it might still be a case of us not doing it justice.

Coming soon

2008-12-07T04:53:00.003-08:00

Pictures and video from the mouse racing are coming soon!

A night at the races

2008-12-07T04:53:00.001-08:00

It is a little known fact in the United States that Ireland has secret sports society. Few Americans have ever seen the sport in person. But on Saturday night, through a series of random events, the four of us not only witnessed, but we also wagered and won at the Night of Mouse Racing.

The Shark, aka Big Fish, would find us and kill us back in Iowa if divulged the location of Saturday’s mouse racing event. But because of John’s long families ties to County Cork he was allowed the document some of the evening proceedings for the readers of this blog.

Sooner or later, everyone goes to Roc’s.

2008-12-07T04:52:00.002-08:00

The Irish should be proud. They have, from what we have seen, resisted the temptation to desecrate their landscape with fast food joints. In Rosscarbery if someone wishes to indulge in the guilty pleasure of deep-fried food, they can go to Roc’s for fish and chips. It is wonderful, especially after you’ve visited the three pubs in town. They serve the best fish and chips we’ve ever had in Ireland. Roc’s serves only take-away. The place always seem to be crowded with folks from all works of life. It is a fact of life in Rosscarbery that sooner or later, everyone goes to Roc’s.

The good sense not to drink and drive…

2008-12-07T04:52:00.001-08:00

At one point as we sat in O’Brien’s , Heather looked around and exclaimed with giddy incredulity, “We’re in Ireland!’’

Without missing a beat, John tossed in the day’s best response to anything said by anyone, “Yeah, and we can’t take a cab home from here.’’

Rosscarbery, a fine place indeed

2008-12-07T04:51:00.002-08:00

We arrived in Rosscarbery after 3:30 p.m., after a somewhat torturous drive through alternating jags of rain and sun glare. As a reward, perhaps, we were treated to at least four rainbows. This prompted John to wonder out loud, “Are they on a schedule?’’

Rosscarbery is not listed on cheap maps of Ireland. It is as if they cannot afford to tell the secret of the small town’s location on the southwest coast of County Cork. This is a blessing, because while Rosscarbery would certainly welcome tourists, it does not yet seem ravaged by crass commercialism.

The focal point of Rosscarbery is called the square. Most of the village’s businesses congregate on two sides of a main drag. We haven’t taken full inventory of the shops, but we were able to visit three pubs: The Abbey, Nolan’s and O’Brien’s. There will be more on these establishments later.

The hostage incident on outskirts of Bandon

2008-12-07T04:51:00.001-08:00

Part of Ireland’s charm is the old-school conveniences that linger. For example, motorists are still able to find gas stations with restrooms. These can be places for rediscovering the simple joy of a cold toilet seat, as Carol pointed out.

Anyway, it happened that we were on the edge of Bandon, the County Cork city of John’s ancestors, the Hawks, when we decided to examine the facilities of a road-side gas station. The most intrepid of our group, Heather, went first. Tom and Carol, dog tired, watched passively from the car. After some time passed, they looked on to see that Heather had been taken hostage inside the bathroom. John launched immediate hostage negotiations, talking calmly through the door. Wisely, he sought local assistance. A man, we presumed to be the station’s owner, came to the door. Heather was released. The only ransom paid was an indignity visited upon the Americans by the gas-station man, who offered that there would have been no hostage incident had the instructions for unlocking the door been followed. This is malarkey, of course.

The shocking drive from Shannon to Rosscarbery…

2008-12-07T04:50:00.000-08:00

John did the heaviest lifting of the day behind the wheel, driving through the mangled streets of Limerick. No matter what anyone ever tells you, vehicles are still driven on the left side of the road in places like Ireland to encourage Americans to go on bus tours.

The most shocking part of the drive to Rosscarbery will be revealed in the following statistic: Pubs between Shannon and Rosscarbery: 321. Pubs visited by HPT between Shannon and Roscarbery: 1.

O'Hare today...Ireland tomorrow!

2008-12-04T13:52:00.000-08:00

So here we are sitting at O'Hare. Skies are sullen and it is cold outside, but it December in the Midwest. It could be worse. We're looking forward to arriving in Ireland, where, as we have been told by tourism officials, the weather is likely to be sunny and warm, as usual for the time of year.

Rosscarbery

2008-12-03T09:20:00.000-08:00

We will be staying in Rosscarbery, a village of about 950 year-round residents. The small town is located on Ireland southwest coast. It bustles with tourists during summer months, by all accounts. More important, one of John’s forebears, Ellen Wolfe, is from Rosscarbery. We have rented an apartment, Croi An Baile, which is Irish for “In the Town.” Virtual tour of our digs here: http://www.rosscarbery.ie/member.php?id=mb42

2008-11-28T11:50:00.000-08:00

Coming soon: Two couples from Iowa, the Hunter-Perrys and the Torpys (hence HPT), chronicle their stay in County Cork. For John and Heather Torpy this is their first trip to Ireland, the ancestral home of John’s family. Carol Hunter and Tom Perry have vacationed here before. John intends to devote time to genealogical research. Otherwise, the itinerary will be spontaneous and organic, with an emphasis on sightseeing. It is also possible they will visit at least one pub.

2008-11-28T10:26:00.000-08:00

Welcome to our blog! We have less than a week before we head to Ireland and we can't wait!