Seannacht i nGaillimh, part 2: Inis Meain

I decided to spend my last day in Galway on Inis Meáin. As I overheard a Frenchman saying on the bus:

“If you really want to know what is France, you do not go to Paris. With all this beautiful countryside, why do you go to Paris?”

Sometimes you have to out in the middle of nowhere if you want to learn where you are. Inis Meáin (the "middle island") is the least-visited of the Aran Islands. The ferry there was carrying supplies - a new TV, among other items, loaded by squinting, sunburnt men in caps into the sides of the boat - as well as people, and most of the people were locals traveling between the island and the mainland.

The boat was named Banrionn na Fharraige (that spelling might be off - I've not got my dictionary with me), which means "Queen of the Sea."

Now, my computer isn't letting me upload photos, so I'll keep this short for now and edit more in later (I'm sure you're all devestated at this sudden absence of pretty rocks). I went onto the island, and found a shop, which was closed. As was the other shop (there are two, I think, on the island), as was the hotel. I had no map, so I walked along for an hour or so until I saw another human being. She was sitting in a chair reading a book, in the yard, outside a house with a small sign that was advertised as a tea shop.

I tiptoed up and tried to look lost and friendly at the same time. She looked up, and greeted me - in Irish. Then she laughed and apologized at the look on my face.

Keep in mind that I've been learning to read and write Irish, not speak it - like most languages, it can be hard to recognize off the page.

It turns out the lady was from the Netherlands. She was a psychologist who'd learned Irish, moved to the Aran Islands, and decided that was they needed was a tea shop. I bought tea and banana bread. She stood next to the table and we talked for a while. She pointed out the path, and I paid and wandered off, and promptly got lost again.

It was lovely, though. All I could think, walking down the road, was, "Lord, let this not be the last I see of this place."

As I said, photos later.

Dublin: Books, Harps, And Other Irish Things

          This past week - or, the week before I became ill - I took a bus down south for two days in Dublin. It was an experience. I’m still in shock from the sheer quantity of historical and cultural treasures I’ve been exposed to.

I went with Maureen, who, as I’ve said before, is the other student from Warren Wilson in the same programme as me. We went to the big station near the city centre and bought round-trip tickets, for the long journey to the capital of Éire, all of two hours’ driving away. I made sure to bring my passport, and some other documents I didn’t know if I’d need (but better safe than sorry) in my backpack. We took the Bus Éirann. I could tell we were on the Irish bus because of the “Emergency Exit” signs:

And that’s how I knew we were in the Republic, as well: nobody stopped the bus. There was no check for passports, nor did I see a sign saying “You are now entering the Republic of  Éire” or anything to that effect. The change is in the language on the signs, from English to English/Gaeilge.

In Irish, apparently, a distinction is made between “exit” as a “way out” or an “escape,” and “exit” as a “point of departure.” This is why bus windows say ÉALÚ – EXIT but highway signs say IMEACHT.

But enough about language quirks. You’ll get more of that later on, no worries.

The landscape of Ireland is different from that of Virginia, but not too different. It wasn’t like going from the Southeast to the Southwest, which is like going to Mars. Here, there are the same big areas of farmland, clumps of woods, and the same rolling blue hills in the distance, but all on a smaller scale. There are more sheep than cows (in the States, there would be more cows), and fields are separated by hedges instead of - or in addition to - fences. The grass is alarmingly green. There are drifts of litter at the sides of the road, and every now and then a black shape boomerangs out from nowhere - this is a crow. It it's black and white, it's a magpie - and you hope you see a second one soon after.*

When we got off the bus, we were in the middle of the city. Like good tourists, we promptly went and ate lunch. But then we went to Trinity College for a tour. Maureen is out shopping for a grad school - she's graduating early, and going for a PhD or something in osteoarchaeology - so she's using that as an excuse to visit some pretty wonderful places.


Trinity was the big university in Ireland, and it may still be, I don't know. I didn't take in much of the factual content of our guide's spiel, though I remember the story of the professor who got shot, and obviously more important imformation of that nature.

Our tour guide with college buildings in the background. As you can see, Trinity is in a much older style than Queen's.  

I don't have a lot of photos from Trinity, because I spent most of the time in the library. This is where the Book of Kells is kept. Yes, that's right - the actual Book of Kells. For those of you who may not know, the Book of Kells is a beautiful, illuminated manuscript of the Gospels from the 8th or 9th century. It's said to have been created - or at least begun - in Iona, brought to Kells (in Ireland) because of Viking raids, and finally to Dublin for safekeeping in the 17th century. According to the Wikipedia page on the Book, it's "a masterwork of Western calligraphy... widely regarded as Ireland's finest national treasure."

And I saw it. There's a wonderful exhibit, where pictures and descriptions are up about the history, about medieval illumination, and symbolism, and more. In the final room, they keep parts of the book in a case, open to show the pages.

Upstairs, I walked through the Long Room. This is a long room filled with shelf upon shelf of old books, which are roped off to the general public. There are ladders to the top shelves, and white busts of famous dead people set at the end of each section. Halfway down is a case holding the Brian Boru harp. Though there is no actual historical connection to Brian Boru, the harp is still a precious thing - made in the 15th century, it's one of the oldest Irish harps in existance, and has become a well-known symbol of Ireland.**


Here are some links with pictures:


The first is a fun, photo-filled blog entry on the Book of Kells.*** Please, read it and look at the pictures - it's got more information than I've written, and the Chi Ro page alone is something everyone should see: http://bodyandsawol.wordpress.com/2010/11/11/a-most-mysterious-book/


And this is a picture of the harp: http://www.haverford.edu/engl/faculty/Sherman/Irish/harp.htm The site also has pictures from the Book of Kells, and other interesting things.


But, because I've gone too long without a picture, here's a photo of the ever-lovely Irish countryside. From a lot of people, that might sound sarcastic. I can assure you that from me, it's not. Damp? Grey? Green? Boggy? Love it.


Will write more later...

* "One for sorrow, two for joy..." and so on. I usually only see one.

** It's on the money. It's on the beer.  Everywhere.  

*** YES, A BOG.