County Tipperary
January 30, 31
“The wind that blows these words to you
Bangs nightly off the black-and-blue
Atlantic…..”
We hesitantly leave The Land of Yeats with those poetic words. They are from his poem, Beyond Howth Head, written about the mass migration of Irish immigrants to the United States.
We are off to Cashel…..
About 7 years ago Ann came to Europe with Peter and their cousin, Jerry. They flew first class to and from Rome, stayed in first class hotels, got first class accommodations on ferries and trains and dined in 4 to 5 star restaurants.
We left Sligo on January 30th for our 6 hour bus ride to Cashel.
There was an elderly man from the reception office who assisted us. When he spoke, his eyes would close…..Ann thinks of Ricky Nelson singing in the 60s. He mentioned that people are still being buried at the Rock. There was a registry established in the 30s and if your family name is on the registry, you have the right to be buried here. He also said that in Ireland, a form of marriage proposal is “would you like to be buried with my family?”
That afternoon, Essie, an old friend of Ann’s who was a Sister at Nazareth and is now a Sister of Mercy, comes out to meet us and takes us on a tour of the beautiful Holycross Abbey. This monastery dates back to the early 12th century with stunning window mural paintings and heavenly music playing in the church. There is also a grotto to St. Padre Pio and his followers from all over Europe meet here. In the high season there could be 40 bus loads of people. We chit chat with the current pastor, who loves America, and is making improvements anticipating the crowds. They are doing a little digging for footings for an extended choir slab outside and we ask if they do that gingerly, seeing as how any time you put a pick into the soil around here you dig up an artifact…”oh, yes, yes, yes… sure I’m here supervising” he says…
We hesitantly leave The Land of Yeats with those poetic words. They are from his poem, Beyond Howth Head, written about the mass migration of Irish immigrants to the United States.
We are off to Cashel…..
About 7 years ago Ann came to Europe with Peter and their cousin, Jerry. They flew first class to and from Rome, stayed in first class hotels, got first class accommodations on ferries and trains and dined in 4 to 5 star restaurants.
We left Sligo on January 30th for our 6 hour bus ride to Cashel.
The only thing first class about this trip was Ann’s company and the countryside scenery: Ponds, lakes, rivers, streams, dare I say brooks, rolling green hills, et. al. Ann particularly liked our brief stop in Birr, a classic Irish village. Upon our arrival in Cashel, two women directed us to our B & B. I asked them if they knew any Dermodys and they told us that Willie Dermody (now deceased) once owned and operated a pub down the street eponymously (Gerard has always wanted to use that word) named. It’s now called Nessie’s but out of business.
The B & B is directly under the Rock of Cashel, a huge castle- like structure in the Romanesque style. It is actually an ancient Cathedral perched on a dramatic outcrop of rock that can be seen for miles throughout this beautiful valley.
The B & B is directly under the Rock of Cashel, a huge castle- like structure in the Romanesque style. It is actually an ancient Cathedral perched on a dramatic outcrop of rock that can be seen for miles throughout this beautiful valley.
Rumor has it that St. Patrick converted the local King, Aenghus, here in 432 AD. There was a baptismal ceremony during which St. Patrick raised his scepter and inadvertently brought it down and through the foot of King Aegneus, who, naïve that he was, said nothing because he thought it was part of the ritual. Picture Gene Hackman and Peter Boyle(‘fire good”), or if you like Moe and Curly
We’re greeted by Joan Joy, proprietor of the B & B who takes no time in giving us the rules, first and foremost, payment in advance in cash. Joan is short, stocky, 60ish, with what I believe is a blond wig. She’s pleasant but business-like. When she speaks, whether business or anecdotally, you feel like she’s said it 10 million times before. The room she shows us is nice but Ann prefers the room with the view of the Rock so we upgrade. We drop our bags and cruise to town. Beautiful, little town, not many people out…stores and pubs look dead.
We’re greeted by Joan Joy, proprietor of the B & B who takes no time in giving us the rules, first and foremost, payment in advance in cash. Joan is short, stocky, 60ish, with what I believe is a blond wig. She’s pleasant but business-like. When she speaks, whether business or anecdotally, you feel like she’s said it 10 million times before. The room she shows us is nice but Ann prefers the room with the view of the Rock so we upgrade. We drop our bags and cruise to town. Beautiful, little town, not many people out…stores and pubs look dead.
We stop in at the Moor Lane Bar. It’s clean, well-lit, strictly a bar. I met and have an extended conversation with Mick Dundee, former disc jockey and horse trainer.
(this is prime horse territory) Back in the day, he used to drink at “Dermodys” and he knew Willie Dermody. He said Willie was tall, very bright, brown hair, blue eyes, extremely handsome, athletic and women used to fight to be in his favor. Honest. Mick loved American country music. He had interviewed Johnny, Waylon, Loretta, Tammy, et. al. when he was a DJ in Dublin. Mick said that Roy Orbison wore sunglasses on stage as a gimmick. Cynical me thinks, au contraire – Roy, I believe, had an eye ailment.
After bouncing around to a couple of other establishments, all manned by workers from Poland, Lithuania or Latvia, we eat at Bailey’s, a cozy pub. Ann has a lamb shank, which she enjoys. It is actually the first piece of meat she has had, other than in a stew. Ireland, by the way, is a mecca for foreign workers from other European Union countries. From workers behind counters, instead of the Irish brogue, most often we hear foreign languages. It is staggering, the number of immigrants. Seems like there are more foreign people here than in the U.S.
The next day I have my pre-ordered (must pre-order) not so hearty Irish breakfast – one egg, small portion of bacon, one sausage. Ann generously donates her breakfast to me, she’s a muesli girl. Joan mentions that Joy is a tough surname to live up to and other parts of her shtick. I told her that I noticed a sign on the bed stand that said checkout time was at 10:00 AM. I told her that we would be vacating by noon tomorrow and she said, in a firm joyless way, that “you will be out of the room at ten but can leave your luggage under the stairs until noon.”
We tour the Rock on a cloudy, misty day. Since it is high on a hill, there are great views of the country-side, including Hore Abbey, which is about 600 yards away. There are ancient grave sites throughout the grounds. I notice a “Maher” family and a few sites over, a “Luby” family. On our street in Port Washington, Long Island, The Mahers lived right next door to the Lubys. They actually shared the same lot. I wish I knew their family history.
After bouncing around to a couple of other establishments, all manned by workers from Poland, Lithuania or Latvia, we eat at Bailey’s, a cozy pub. Ann has a lamb shank, which she enjoys. It is actually the first piece of meat she has had, other than in a stew. Ireland, by the way, is a mecca for foreign workers from other European Union countries. From workers behind counters, instead of the Irish brogue, most often we hear foreign languages. It is staggering, the number of immigrants. Seems like there are more foreign people here than in the U.S.
The next day I have my pre-ordered (must pre-order) not so hearty Irish breakfast – one egg, small portion of bacon, one sausage. Ann generously donates her breakfast to me, she’s a muesli girl. Joan mentions that Joy is a tough surname to live up to and other parts of her shtick. I told her that I noticed a sign on the bed stand that said checkout time was at 10:00 AM. I told her that we would be vacating by noon tomorrow and she said, in a firm joyless way, that “you will be out of the room at ten but can leave your luggage under the stairs until noon.”
We tour the Rock on a cloudy, misty day. Since it is high on a hill, there are great views of the country-side, including Hore Abbey, which is about 600 yards away. There are ancient grave sites throughout the grounds. I notice a “Maher” family and a few sites over, a “Luby” family. On our street in Port Washington, Long Island, The Mahers lived right next door to the Lubys. They actually shared the same lot. I wish I knew their family history.
There was an elderly man from the reception office who assisted us. When he spoke, his eyes would close…..Ann thinks of Ricky Nelson singing in the 60s. He mentioned that people are still being buried at the Rock. There was a registry established in the 30s and if your family name is on the registry, you have the right to be buried here. He also said that in Ireland, a form of marriage proposal is “would you like to be buried with my family?”
That afternoon, Essie, an old friend of Ann’s who was a Sister at Nazareth and is now a Sister of Mercy, comes out to meet us and takes us on a tour of the beautiful Holycross Abbey. This monastery dates back to the early 12th century with stunning window mural paintings and heavenly music playing in the church. There is also a grotto to St. Padre Pio and his followers from all over Europe meet here. In the high season there could be 40 bus loads of people. We chit chat with the current pastor, who loves America, and is making improvements anticipating the crowds. They are doing a little digging for footings for an extended choir slab outside and we ask if they do that gingerly, seeing as how any time you put a pick into the soil around here you dig up an artifact…”oh, yes, yes, yes… sure I’m here supervising” he says…
We end our day going out to lunch at the elegant Cashel Palace Hotel, cozy up by the fire….Ann has stayed at her last b & b! Lamb stew again, it gets a “B”, the restaurant and hotel an “A”. 
Two little Irish twins, Molly and Annie
Tupac lives ...on the wall next to a centuries old friary
No comments:
Post a Comment