Last summer when I was in Ireland I climbed Croagh Patrick. It was one of the most gruelling things I ever did in my live. ‘Cause I wasn’t prepared for it at all. I left the youth hostel in Westport thinking ‘let’s just climb that bloody mountain and take some pictures of the place where Saint Patrick chased the snakes from Ireland’. It took me actually more than two hours to get to the top and getting down was even harder. But it was indeed worth being on that particular place where Ireland’s patron saint had been hundreds and hundreds of years before to free Ireland from the snakes.
So, great was my consternation when Jonny announced Sunday morning that we were going to go the place where…..Saint Patrick chased away…..the snakes. We were miles and miles away from Westport, so it was quite clear to me that he was talking about another mountain than the one I climbed. And indeed, rumours go round that it wasn’t Croagh Patrick, but a place called Slemish where Saint Patrick performed the miracle. Rumours indeed, ‘cause Jonny, I’m still not convinced. But I’m indeed grateful that you drove us there, as there is now not the slightest doubt anymore about me being to the place where Saint Patrick. Feels great anyway.
After the obliged picture in Slemish we drove back to Jonny’s place. Taking a shower, drinking a nice cup of tea and getting ready for a very exciting sport afternoon. Well, for the boys anyway. Katie and I weren’t too keen on spending the whole afternoon in a crowded pub to watch rugby and the Liverpool soccer match afterwards. So the boys dropped us of at the Ulster Museum. We spend a good bit of the afternoon there. ‘t Was nice. They have a varied collection, from paintings from the old Flemish and Dutch masters, till the first Egyptian mummy outside Egypt and a good bit on Irish history as well. Meanwhile Ireland beat England in the Six Nations Cup, which was great indeed. We arrived in the Globe when Liverpool started the overtime against Chelsea (although I’m not for one hundred per cent sure if it was Chelsea. Was it?). Till about ten minutes before the end of the match it looked like Liverpool was going to win and that we were going to get some very happy guys back home, but then there was the own goal. A shame indeed, and it got even worse as Liverpool eventually lost the match with 2-3 (or 3-2, don’t even know which team was visiting. Shame on me again). Jonny was disappointed. Think they deserved to win the game.
Anyway, there wasn’t too much time for grieving as there was still another big thing on the program. Luka Bloom indeed. Again indeed. So we went back home, where Jonny’s mum served us a delicious spaghetti and than back into the car, towards the Waterfront Hall. The concert hall looked very modern, very spacious, impressive. Luka was playing in the Studios. I found us a nice seat on the fourth row. The show was good. Although he played nearly exact the same set list as in Dublin, the atmosphere was completely different. No drinking here. Full attention. A very modest audience. Which made it very intimate. No standing ovation (there was one in Dublin), only one encore (there were two in Dublin), but nevertheless a great show. And he did play ‘I’m a bogman’. The song the three of us were waiting for, especially after the macabre experience we had there the day before.
I was kind of expecting the weekend to be over after the concert, but I was definitely wrong there. So after the gig back in the cab, towards Jonny’s local pub again. When we arrived there, the door was already closed. But people were still in, so after a short chat with the ‘very dangerous looking bouncer with the earphones’ Jonny managed to get us in. We were just in time for ‘last orders’ (a very peculiar Irish (and English) phenomenon: just order as much as you can, ‘cause there is no chance to get another drink after that call). And still the party wasn’t over. Back to Jonny’s kitchen. Where I had…..my…..first…..dancing lesson. Yes mum and dad, me dancing in a ‘stranger’s’ kitchen. After Darren and his fiancée left, Jonny’s mum and Pat just started to dance. I initially opted for the safe way: sitting in the corner of the kitchen, sipping my white wine, taking a picture from time to time. But the more drink there was served, the more obvious it became there was no way for me to escape the ‘dance floor’. And I did enjoy it. And indeed I was a bit clumsy at the start. But who cared? The five of us were kind of drunk, so it was just a matter of having a good time. And I definitely had. The hours flew by and before we knew it was half past five. I had to catch my bus at eight. As there was no time left to enjoy a good night’s rest, we just took a one-hours’ nap and get up again at a quarter to seven. Jonny’s mum had breakfast ready for us (she didn’t went to bed yet). Isn’t she great?
I nearly missed my bus back to Dublin ( the driver wasn’t very happy about waiting for me running to the ticket office to buy a ticket). The way back was hell. I hoped to sleep, but just couldn’t. Suffered a small hangover. Had to change bus two times and was afraid to miss my stop by falling asleep. Anyway, I arrived in Mallow around five, which wasn’t too bad. I had kind of planned to have a quick sandwich and get into my bed. Suffering from a headache, I wasn’t in the mood for chatting at all. But I forgot about Julia of course. So the minute I entered the house she started firing questions on me about the weekend. “How was it? Did you spend a lot of money? Isn’t amazing how quick time goes? How was the concert? Did you find a place to stay in Dublin”. I know she was just interested but it just wasn’t really what I needed at that time of the day. So I politely answered some of her questions and sneaked upstairs after about an hour. Fell asleep at six ‘o clock and slept till my alarm woke me up the next morning for another day at work.
A great weekend it was indeed. Although we didn’t see too much of Belfast itself, I definitely had a great Northern Irish experience up there. It was more than a hospitable welcome. The Antrim Coast was just amazing. Was overwhelmed by the weather. I know people in Belgium are suffering a very severe winter at the moment, but weather last weekend was just amazing. Blue sky, no wind, the sun shining. Think “the bad weather myth” is just a story the Irish made up to keep those bloody tourists out. And right they are.
Saskia
So, great was my consternation when Jonny announced Sunday morning that we were going to go the place where…..Saint Patrick chased away…..the snakes. We were miles and miles away from Westport, so it was quite clear to me that he was talking about another mountain than the one I climbed. And indeed, rumours go round that it wasn’t Croagh Patrick, but a place called Slemish where Saint Patrick performed the miracle. Rumours indeed, ‘cause Jonny, I’m still not convinced. But I’m indeed grateful that you drove us there, as there is now not the slightest doubt anymore about me being to the place where Saint Patrick. Feels great anyway.
After the obliged picture in Slemish we drove back to Jonny’s place. Taking a shower, drinking a nice cup of tea and getting ready for a very exciting sport afternoon. Well, for the boys anyway. Katie and I weren’t too keen on spending the whole afternoon in a crowded pub to watch rugby and the Liverpool soccer match afterwards. So the boys dropped us of at the Ulster Museum. We spend a good bit of the afternoon there. ‘t Was nice. They have a varied collection, from paintings from the old Flemish and Dutch masters, till the first Egyptian mummy outside Egypt and a good bit on Irish history as well. Meanwhile Ireland beat England in the Six Nations Cup, which was great indeed. We arrived in the Globe when Liverpool started the overtime against Chelsea (although I’m not for one hundred per cent sure if it was Chelsea. Was it?). Till about ten minutes before the end of the match it looked like Liverpool was going to win and that we were going to get some very happy guys back home, but then there was the own goal. A shame indeed, and it got even worse as Liverpool eventually lost the match with 2-3 (or 3-2, don’t even know which team was visiting. Shame on me again). Jonny was disappointed. Think they deserved to win the game.
Anyway, there wasn’t too much time for grieving as there was still another big thing on the program. Luka Bloom indeed. Again indeed. So we went back home, where Jonny’s mum served us a delicious spaghetti and than back into the car, towards the Waterfront Hall. The concert hall looked very modern, very spacious, impressive. Luka was playing in the Studios. I found us a nice seat on the fourth row. The show was good. Although he played nearly exact the same set list as in Dublin, the atmosphere was completely different. No drinking here. Full attention. A very modest audience. Which made it very intimate. No standing ovation (there was one in Dublin), only one encore (there were two in Dublin), but nevertheless a great show. And he did play ‘I’m a bogman’. The song the three of us were waiting for, especially after the macabre experience we had there the day before.
I was kind of expecting the weekend to be over after the concert, but I was definitely wrong there. So after the gig back in the cab, towards Jonny’s local pub again. When we arrived there, the door was already closed. But people were still in, so after a short chat with the ‘very dangerous looking bouncer with the earphones’ Jonny managed to get us in. We were just in time for ‘last orders’ (a very peculiar Irish (and English) phenomenon: just order as much as you can, ‘cause there is no chance to get another drink after that call). And still the party wasn’t over. Back to Jonny’s kitchen. Where I had…..my…..first…..dancing lesson. Yes mum and dad, me dancing in a ‘stranger’s’ kitchen. After Darren and his fiancée left, Jonny’s mum and Pat just started to dance. I initially opted for the safe way: sitting in the corner of the kitchen, sipping my white wine, taking a picture from time to time. But the more drink there was served, the more obvious it became there was no way for me to escape the ‘dance floor’. And I did enjoy it. And indeed I was a bit clumsy at the start. But who cared? The five of us were kind of drunk, so it was just a matter of having a good time. And I definitely had. The hours flew by and before we knew it was half past five. I had to catch my bus at eight. As there was no time left to enjoy a good night’s rest, we just took a one-hours’ nap and get up again at a quarter to seven. Jonny’s mum had breakfast ready for us (she didn’t went to bed yet). Isn’t she great?
I nearly missed my bus back to Dublin ( the driver wasn’t very happy about waiting for me running to the ticket office to buy a ticket). The way back was hell. I hoped to sleep, but just couldn’t. Suffered a small hangover. Had to change bus two times and was afraid to miss my stop by falling asleep. Anyway, I arrived in Mallow around five, which wasn’t too bad. I had kind of planned to have a quick sandwich and get into my bed. Suffering from a headache, I wasn’t in the mood for chatting at all. But I forgot about Julia of course. So the minute I entered the house she started firing questions on me about the weekend. “How was it? Did you spend a lot of money? Isn’t amazing how quick time goes? How was the concert? Did you find a place to stay in Dublin”. I know she was just interested but it just wasn’t really what I needed at that time of the day. So I politely answered some of her questions and sneaked upstairs after about an hour. Fell asleep at six ‘o clock and slept till my alarm woke me up the next morning for another day at work.
A great weekend it was indeed. Although we didn’t see too much of Belfast itself, I definitely had a great Northern Irish experience up there. It was more than a hospitable welcome. The Antrim Coast was just amazing. Was overwhelmed by the weather. I know people in Belgium are suffering a very severe winter at the moment, but weather last weekend was just amazing. Blue sky, no wind, the sun shining. Think “the bad weather myth” is just a story the Irish made up to keep those bloody tourists out. And right they are.
Saskia
2 comments:
Hi Saskia!
Getting caught up on your lovely weekend as I'd not read pt.2 yet! Sounds like you were really surrounded by a lovely group. Johnny's mum sounds awesome! Laughed about the 'last call'...always thought that was a neat phenomena. Mad dash for loads of drink!!! ((-: Loved your dancing lesson! Do you remember any of the steps?? Whewww...tough journeying early in the a.m. though with a hangover. Those are longgg trips without a hangover! Though been on some really lovely long bus travels. Quite the journey, Saskia, sounds like it was surely unforgetable!
Great stuff,
Knuffels,
Vicky
Dearest Saskia,
Please accept my humble apologies for this, the most unforgiveable of delays in posting a comment on your truly entertaining corner of cyberspace.
I really enjoy your coverage of life as a Belgian living in my homeland, and indeed - seeing as I am an Irishman living in Belgium - it's quite the eye opener to see how you're coping with the demands of the Irish lifestyle, for I still continue to struggle with the demands of the Belgian lifestyle!
Can I just say, that it was a pleasure having you in Northern Ireland (or 'Norn Iron' as the locals pronounce it). I appreciate the effort that you had to make, in getting there, and I hope it was worthwhile. Judging by your report it would seem so (although I wonder if this is becuase you knew I'd be reading your report?!)
My mum has informed me that you are welcome to return any time you wish. You're perfectly house trained and caused no trouble at all.
;-)
Perhaps for a second dancing lesson??!
See you soon,
Jonny
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