Tallinn Tales: Ireland and the British Isles....

River in Conemara Ireland

River in Galway Ireland

River in Cong Ireland

Ireland- the Emerald Isle is living up to its rainy but beautiful reputation. But being here is different and even a bit strange after our time in Estonia. First, we are more overtly ‘tourists’ and are now ‘dancing’ through countries at a rapid and much more superficial pace. We arrive, gather maps, locate our bed for the night, prioritize what we want to ‘see’, and rush from place to place with increasingly larger hoards of other tourists who also scurry from ‘famous point to famous point’, heads craned upward, a map in one hand and a camera in the other. It is a role that I wear reluctantly. While I have also been an outsider in Tallinn, I could sometimes fantasize that I was more a part of the rhythm of the city, able to notice the small daily changes--some thing only possible over time and with repeated visits.

As I reluctantly merge into this stream of human tourist-fish, I find myself craving (and missing) moments of deeper connection that provide clues about what it means to be a resident of whichever place I happen to be. For example, on a bus tour of inland Ireland, I am delighted by the constant banter of our Irish tour-guide/bus driver, and also with the on-going interactions he has with the only two Irish women in our tour group. It is so different from the interactions I have been experiencing in Tallinn, where people speak as needed and often (it seems) from a deeper place. In Ireland words are like the air and their primary function seems to be to entertain or to transform what is into what should be. (or in the case of these two women, to inspire shame at anything that is less than brilliant)

Lake near Kylemore Castle

So far, Ireland feels almost normal, although I am still surprised at being able to actually understand what is being said. (Although I miss the negotiating for a common language to communicate.) This means, I can now eaves drop at will (unless Gaelic is being spoken- which is rare).

This is definitely a different place from Estonia: On the streets, people are shorter, with black or red hair, with lots of freckles against lily white skin. People are also much much spunkier and talk loudly and alot more. Around us, there is also a broader range of human colors and ethnicities (this means that we get to choose between the many yummy foods that comes with this diversity.) It feels more familiar and even the trees and plants remind me of plants at home (or in Oregon).

Lake near Kylemore Castle

My only constant reminder that I am in a foreign country is that the cars and people are on the wrong side of the road !!!! At street intersections, we now swivel our heads back and forth, over and over again, to be sure we have accounted for all possible cars and bikes. Of course we also do this to figure out what street we are on--apparently in the British Isles, the purpose of a street name is to let you know information about the particular and exact spot of town e.g. Red House Road, Smith’s Field Lane, or George’s Quay (pronounced key). This lets you know that once there was a red house on this block, or someone named Smith owned the land here or that George had a shipping company at this part of the docks. In fact these all might be different sections of the same street, but the names would change each block.

Lake in Conemara Ireland

Another surprising difference is that people will stop to offer help, even if we have only paused to look at our map. I have begun to develop a personal scale to measure how locals help foreigners in their country. In this scale, 0 is when people are basically non-responsive/hostile and 10 is being psychic and helping before you know you need the help. On this scale, I would rate the Irish at about a 7. In comparison Estonians would be about a 3 - 4 (e.g.they will gladly help but you have to ask first) Russians are a 10.5 (e.g. they know what you want better than you do-if there is a difference in opinion..they you are wrong and they are right) and Egyptians are an 11 (e.g. they ask if you need help even if you are not holding a map and actually know where you are going, and they will personally escort you to where they KNOW you actually need to go. This is usually one of their relative’s perfume/antiques/t-shirt/postcard shops).

Dublin Canal

OK, enough of my inner musings. Now for a few details of what we have been doing. First (after leaving Estonia), we had a brief stay with friends in Amsterdam, leaving most of our luggage awaiting us when we return for a longer visit in a few weeks. Then we flew to Dublin for a semi-grand excursion of the British Isles, excluding Great Britain itself.

Jewish Museum-Dublin (Did you know there were Jews in Ireland?

Dublin-two Wilde guys

In Dublin we stayed in a cute flat, with two guys and two cats, where we were well fed and treated royally. Most of the days we were there (only 3) we spent walking. Our excursion included typical tourist sights, like Trinity College (William and Kate were no longer is residence….), which was particularly remarkable for the huge ancient trees in the center yards of the campus (more about trees later). We went to evening vespers (evensong) at Christ Church Cathedral (Church of Ireland), walked to the edge of town to visit the Jewish Museum (I had no idea there were even Jews in Ireland…there were and are, but it is a small community--though it turns out the first prime minister of Israel was from Ireland!). Listened to some ‘trad’ music in a local pub ("traditional" with hand-drums, fiddles, flutes) while Bruce tried a Guinness (made in Dublin)--a funky pub in our neighborhood, so not a tourist show). And we visited a few additional museums (history and art), which were all free (thank you National Trust !!). The best part was a Historic LGBTQ walking tour, as part of Dublin’s Gay Pride celebration week, which started at the Oscar Wilde statue (of course!!). It was ‘grand’ (Irish term for almost anything good) to get a sense of the historic and current experience of LGBTQ people in Dublin and Ireland and hear stories of challenge and success from some of the leaders of the LGBTQ community.

Tree in Connemara Ireland

More trees Cong, Ireland

From there we took a bus to Galway, passing through rolling sheep covered-hills in every shade of green you could imagine. Galway is a small tourist-oriented town (at least in summer), but it is on the west coast of Ireland, and we were hoping to get a better sense of Celtic culture (as in Ireland in general, road and other signs are usually in both English and Irish/Gaelic), especially since it was the summer solstice. Because it was somewhat rainy, we opted for a bus tour that circled out into the countryside, past lakes, fjords and hills to some local abbeys and an 18^th century castle and walled garden named Kylemore Abbey.

I will leave it to Bruce to hopefully fill in more details, but what struck me most strongly at that last stop was the presence of ancient towering trees, with twining branches that extended out into the world everywhere we went. When I was younger I studied Celtic culture and myths a bit, and I learned about their sacred roles and meanings in Celtic culture. Having seen them in person, I now understand why this would be. The trees in this part of the world are amazing, breath-taking, grand, glorious and a host of other terms that only the Irish could link into one sentence. Each tree is unique, with broad trunks and jutting branches that filled the space and pierced the sky. Worthy of respect, praise and honor.