So I had him drop me off in Ennistymon, a sweet little town where Jeanne works as a pharmacist. Almost the first thing you see when you enter it is the cascades, a very impressive waterfall that the road goes over. There is just about one main street, with small shops all along it. Quite a few of them are closed. This might have something to do with the "Fitz's Supervalu" up the road. There is a Supervalu in every town of a certain size, and they all have a name in front, "Dermot's Supervalu," etc. Probably to try and personalize them.
I walked aimlessly, then followed a sign saying "Burren Chernobyl Project" (what?). It brought me to a gallery/studio space, which had some exhibitions on. One of the women who works at the front desk invited me to join them for coffee, so I did, with two Jackies and a Dara. Dara was talking about a "biscuit cake" (made with crushed-up biscuits) she was making for a wedding. One Jackie was an artist there, the other had been an artist. Dara seemed a bit grumpy, and repelled anyone's suggestions on how to make her cake taste better by saying that she would follow the recipe to the letter, thank you. Then we examined the art around us--some beautiful portrait paintings and an umbrella that had been sewn with pins coming down from the inside of it, like rain. "This is pretty good," said Dara. "Some of the artists... well, they do work very hard on their stuff..." "We've seen some pretty horrible things in here," confided one of the Jackies.
I visited an abandoned school, one of many broken-down boarded-up buildings around. The Burren Chernobyl Project turns out to be an exchange program between the Ennistymon area and somewhere up in Russia, with kids from both places visiting the other. Then I went to see Jeanne, who told me there was a path along the river, so off I went. It was beautiful. I took some pictures with my phone... now to get them off of it and onto the internet. :P But here's someone else's picture.
Oh yeah, and I had a traditional gluten-free Irish crêpe, and bought some traditional Irish tofu. And talked to the guy in the health food store, where I bought the tofu; he was originally from Bavaria but had been in Ireland for 30 years. He said that, from his perspective, Ireland was not as relaxed as Italy, but more relaxed than Germany; you could do your own thing as long as you didn't step on anyone's toes. "Hang upside-down from a tree? Go ahead," he said.
I believe that Ireland is relaxed, since none of the buses seem to leave on time! Jimmy went to pick Jeanne up from work today, and three hours later they were still away. It turns out that they decided to go see a friend's new house, and then stopped a cafe, and then eight of their friends turned up.
But anyway, I started walking the 20-minute walk from Ennistymon to Lahinch, the next town along, hoping to then hitch from Lahinch to Liscannor, where I live. Everyone here recommends hitchhiking as the best way to travel when you don't have other transportation. When it started to rain, someone pulled over and asked if I wanted a lift. Her name was Dee, and she lived in Lahinch, and vaguely knew Tess, one of Jeanne's friends, when I started running through people, certain that in a town that size we had to have someone in common. In Lahinch, I bought fudge, and then stood by the road with my thumb out.
A lot of people make inexplicable hand gestures at you when you're hitchhiking. As if I'm supposed to know what pointing at my side of the road, pointing at the other side of the road, or pointing straight ahead are supposed to mean. Are you giving me silent advice on where to stand? Or just pointing and laughing? Anyway, after a while, a bus came along, but it was going the wrong direction.
Then a vanload of Germans stopped next to me. They were staying just down the road from us (not saying too much though, since there are only about three roads in Liscannor). We spoke a mixture of German and English to each other. I was grateful for the German practice. They're here in the west of Ireland because various relatives like to ride motorbikes. Why Ireland and not somewhere with straighter roads and better weather? I suppose variety is a good thing. :)
So that's how I got home. Sadly, when I got home, I realized that Jimmy had locked the door before he left, assuming that Jeanne had given me a key... so I had to climb through a not-very-big window, accidentally stepping on a picture frame in the process. Oops. :(
No comments:
Post a Comment