An Experience in Ireland

I am looking at a picture of thirty five people - expressions of pleasure evident in a range from subdued contentment to broad smiles of utter joy. Thirty five people in the midst of bonding during an adventure in Ireland. How different we are and how very much the same. We owe our presence to the common bond of the alumni of MCLA/NASC/NASTC, (and particularly to the recruiting efforts of Becky and Nancy and the coordination work of Dan and Janice). We are mothers, fathers, sisters, sons, daughters and friends all gathered to mark a moment in our travels and forge a tangible link in the chain of memories. Many of us are aware of ancient finnilial roots planted in this tiny country. Some are about to have their first contact with the irreverent and self-deprecating humor of its citizens.

We journeyed from all over the USA to congregate in Logan Airport before departure to Dublin. Once we landed in Dublin, we met the tour driver who would share his wit, charm, and friendship for the next six days (and nights). David also had a great deal of practical and historical information to enhance the overall experience. We all knew we were witnessing "authentic Blarney" at its best.

After a quick trip to the elegantly appointed Dublin hotel, to catch our collective breath, we were treated to a bus tour of the life and times of the capital city. David also pointed out some entertainment opportunities available for independent inspection later in the day and evening. The jokes and the painless history lessons began - all the while we were deftly maneuvered through traffic of gigantic proportions We saw the "tart with the cart" and the "floozie in the jacuzzi" as well as statues with bullet wounds from days of "the troubles". On our own for supper, some caught up on sleep and some rambled alone to greet the city on foot.

Our days followed a pattern of three times to note: wakeup call; which came or not in typical Irish whimsical fashion, (we tended to keep track of one another), breakfast; at which time we were to produce the ONE bag for storage on the bus and partake of huge and varied eating offerings, and dinner; another wide variety of wonderful victuals. Time also played a part in governing the daily schedule of travel, site visits and shopping. Nobody was ever left behind as driver and crew faithfully counted those seated on the bus at the end of each venue visit.

Our travels took us into Armagh, in Northern Ireland, for a taste of the atmosphere where police carry rifles in the historically religious center of Ireland. After a visit to St. Patrick's Trian, with minor purchases being made, we traveled on to begin an association with castles. Of varying ages, although all old, we slept in, climbed in, kissed in, drove by, and speculated about castle life. Our next destination was Galway and the Royal Tara China factory. Now this was major shopping! It was also our first definitive brush with the other tour from the same company. Now that the rain looked like it would be a factor, the schedule was slightly altered to avoid crowd issues and still see sights without drowning. The next stop was Clifdon but the weather dictated saving some sites until we could walk outside, so we visited Kylemore Abbey and the Connemara marble factory. Shopping extraordinaire! The wind and rain notwithstanding, we forged ahead to Killarney for two nights. On the way, we practiced our singing in preparation for the night show at the pub.

What joy! What lovely little girls dancing for our pleasure. What silliness to tickle our funny bones. How did some of us become nuns? Another piece of trivia to spark laughter and standing, recurring jokes. The greeting of the Kerry man, cooked tomatoes with breakfast, teasing about shopping bargains, (How many bags do you have now?) and always the music of the Irish voice, speaking and singing, to delight us.

On to the Ring of Kerry. This was, apparently, the most favored ride. It most approximated our picture book expectations of the "real" Ireland. With more shopping ahead in Killarney, life seemed good. The only less happy news was that we were to lose David for the last day. The farewell celebration that resulted was not to be denied. The Competition of the Buses reigns supreme as a party to end all parties. We met the driver who would get us to the plane on time but felt saddened that we would not share the last hours with the fellow who guided and organized and entertained with skill, warmth, and great good humor.

For the last day, Bunratty Castle provided more shopping opportunities and more castle experience for those who hadn't exhausted their wallets and stamina. Flying home from Shannon airport gave us an even wider contact with Irish procedures. Pre-customs check-in became a subject for discussion - but even that, perhaps, was a result of our disinclination to admit that we were indeed on our way home.

It is impossible to recount the myriad of details and memories. The flavor of the travel with the spectacular vistas, the discovery that Irish whipped cream is sugarless, the impact of the wind and rain on the environment, the isolated sheep balanced on impossibly tiny rock outcroppings, David leading us in song while the other driver played the spoons, laughter, laughter and more laughter, and of course, the shopping all become flashes of detail that bring to mind more details and memories. "Look at the foliage", 'terty-tree, terty-four", "Hu-huh!", "dat catedral", "Mother Superior", "I need another suitcase!" Watchwords for a grand excursion! I hope not to miss the next one.