Family Vacation

My family has Irish ancestors. So when an opportunity came up to go on an Irish tour, we decided to go as a family. We were a lovely boisterous group of seven canucks.

My siblings and I tend to be a little loud as a group. We laugh loudly, discuss things enthusiastically, and generally have a lot of fun. We fit in well in Ireland.

My sister and I took a “Viking Splash Tour”, which is just an excuse to have a quick ride around Dublin in a silly yellow boat/truck. We got to wear badly fitting Viking hats and startle people on the street by yelling at them like drunken raiders.

We learned absolutely nothing, but had a ball.

And we went to see the National Leprechaun Museum – which, despite its name, is not for children. We clambered on oversized furniture and rode down a rainbow to the pot of gold, but the stories told on the tour were scary and occasionally gory.  Not for the Irish are the pretty fairies of Disney fame. The faeries of Ireland are pale and ugly, living underground and taking children from their beds. And the secretive little leprechauns were vengeful when captured. The best that could be said about the little men was that they were excellent cobblers. That’s how they earned the gold in their rainbow pot: they played music to make the faeries dance until their shoes wore out, and then turned around and charged the faeries to fix them. Hmmm. Sounds like some businesses I know….

Unlike their leprechauns, the Irish are very friendly.  Every single resident that we saw smiled at us and usually wanted to engage us in conversation. Cab drivers especially would go on at length on any subject. But even people on the street were eager to stop and chat, and answer questions. One fellow even slipped my brother a bottle of moonshine to sample. 

Yes, we fit in very well in Ireland.

The friendliness of the locals seemed at odds with the strife that Northern Ireland went through not too many years ago. Even after 20 years, there are still pockets of resistance to British rule, and many of the buildings hold reminders of the messy war. 

In Befast, the police stations are wrapped in chain link fencing topped with razor wire. 

And even the townhouse that we stayed in had broken glass and barbed wire at the top of the courtyard wall.

You can’t say that the townhouse in Belfast was a small house. It had 6 bedrooms after all, plus a kitchen and 2 living rooms. It was tall and narrow, running 3 stories high with no basement, and I would be surprised if the entire dwelling was 16’ wide. That made for small rooms and cozy living arrangements. Good thing we all get along so well.

Despite the limited indoor area, I understand that 2 living rooms are common. The one is for family use, and the other to be kept in pristine condition for when guests drop by.

As we were travelling, I noticed that there was a pattern emerging. Each area, be it county or city, claimed to be better than any others. Only theirs had the best local produce, or the best sports team, or the friendliest citizens, or the best whatever. And in each city was the best or the oldest pub.

We, of course, had to test out each pub claim.

A lot of the Irish culture seems to center around drinking.

They are known for their famous Guinness beer and their Irish whiskey. One wonders about the state of the society when there are two or three pubs on every block. We even drove through one little town of maybe 6 or 7 blocks, and counted 31 pubs or drinking establishments. 

We fit into this type of atmosphere perfectly. 

Imagine our delight when we learned that they serve whiskey as an accompaniment to porridge!

In Irish vernacular, they have what they call “the craik”, pronounced  “crack”, which means having fun in a group with drinking and boisterous laughter.

I think we have it nailed.

W