Irish charm and leprechauns

So there we were – the four of us – at our local watering hole.

“I’m going on a holiday to Ireland,” I announced between glugs of beer.

“Guinness!” exclaimed the crony to the left of me.

“You must drink lots of it,” gurgled the other to the right of me.

“Irish coffee,” slurred the third bosom buddy, half-propped on his bar stool.

“And hunt for leprechauns,” hiccupped the unknown drunk who was draped on the bar, right besides us.

So on that rainy Sunday – amidst much, gurgling, hiccupping and slurring – the itinerary for my holiday to Ireland was hammered out: I’d drink a lot of Guinness, nurse my hangovers with Irish coffee, and – if time permitted – even look for leprechauns…

The first pint… and then another
Two weeks later, I found myself disembarking the Air Aeran flight that brought me to Dublin from Heathrow. As for the weather, I couldn’t ask for anything better: Bright and sunny!

Now for those who aren’t aware, Dublin is THE city for those who love their tipple.

For one, it’s in Ireland, and who hasn’t heard of Irish pubs. Secondly, the first Guinness brewery was set up in this city in the eighteenth century. And thirdly, it’s home to the Temple Bar District – an area known for its hotspots of bacchanalian revelry.

“One Guinness,” I promptly ordered at my first pit stop. I had a schedule to follow, and I wasn’t about to fall back on that.

The bartender graciously set about his task; placing a tumbler filled with a rich black liquid in front of me. I sipped, and sighed. The stout has a lovely bitter taste to it. (For those who’d rather do without the bitter, ask for a cranberry in the beverage.)

As I neared the end of my pint, the bartender informed me with a smile that it was customary to order a second.

“A bird does not fly on one wing,” he winked.

I happily complied. Again and again, and again…

The rest of the evening was a blur: I don’t quite remember the lyrics to half those Irish drinking songs, but I distinctly remember seeing my first leprechaun after consuming healthy amounts of dark brew.

Much, much later, after tumblers of revelry – as is a custom in almost any Dublin pub – and a superb meal of steak and potatoes at the Clarence (which, by the way was the hotel I was staying at), I retired to my room.

The Clarence Hotel in Dublin, owned by U2

At this time, I wished I had more time to spend in that splendid city, but my itinerary being the way it was, I had a long drive to Galway on the morrow.

Idle boast of the day: The Clarence is owned by rock stars, Bono and Edge of U2 fame. Hah!

Note of caution: Those looking forward to a smoke along with their drink might be disappointed. All pubs, and almost all hotels have a ‘no smoking’ policy. But step out of any establishment and you will find smoking companions who are just as ‘quick with a joke’ as they are ‘to light up your smoke’. And let me tell you, there’s no other place that you’d rather be.

Of poets and painters
The next morn, as soon I stepped out of the diner after my morning repast, I was informed that Gerry – my guide for the next two days – had already loaded my bags into his van for our drive to Galway.

Gerry promising to lead me astray

“C’mon me lad,” he smiled as soon as he set his eyes on my brown face. “I’ve got the bonny task of leading ye… Leading ye astray, that is.”

And so, we set off on a four-hour drive, stopping once on the way for hot coffee and buttered scones. Delish!

Now it must be said of the rural Irish landscape: It’s enough to make a painter or a poet of anyone: Its sylvan spread of green meadows, roofed by blue skies that are daubed with the white fluffs of soft clouds. Ah bliss!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... Zzzzzzz

And it’s easy to fall asleep too… all you got to do is count the sheep. Indeed, Ireland’s green meadows are the stuff that picture postcards are made of. Flocks of sheep speckle the various shades of green – and then, as you near Galway, the flocks are gradually replaced by grazing horses. Of course, Friesian cows are everywhere!

Race day?
Coming to the city: If there’s one thing that Galway is famous for, it’s got to be its rich tradition of music, song and dancing. Also, its citizens love the races – both horses and hounds.

“That place is gone to the dogs,” Gerry remarked during one of our drives. He was, of course, pointing to the racecourse for the canines.

Now, if you’re there during the Galway horse races – which happens to fall between the last week of July and the first week of August – you can expect a jolly good time, what with all the women dressed up in hats, men looking forward to that winning wager and all – or so, I’ve been told. I was wretchedly going to be out of the country by then.

The Galway City Square

Nevertheless, I buried my disappointment with a walk through the city; and also found the time for touristy stuff: Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I did pick up T-shirts with ‘Ireland’ emblazoned on them. A few Guinness later, and the sun was shining brightly in my head. Outside, it was raining.

Interestingly, the city’s inhabitants have a wonderful way of predicting the weather: I once asked a Smart Alec for forecast of the day.

“If you can see those mountains,” he said, pointing to the hills in the distance, “then there’s a fair chance of rain…”

“And if ye can’t see them?” I asked.

“Then it’s already raining,” he said, puffing at his pipe.

Sunshine or rain, Galway is beautiful. Also, there are few things in this world that a lively Galway pub cannot cure. Besides, Gerry kept his word. He led me astray, but I was never too far off from a pint of Guinness or a glass of Irish coffee.

Delish, delish Irish

Must visit: Moran’s of the Weir, a famous seafood bar and restaurant located in Kilcolgan, a few kilometres outside Galway city. The place is renowned for its superb oysters, and of course, the ambience is fantastic!

The bright outdoors
Now, if you – like me – find yourself in County Galway, do make it a point to visit Connemara for a dose of that old-world Irish charm: Stone walls, thatched cottages and Irishmen who actually speak Irish!

Stone walls and thatched roofs that house

Irishmen who actually speak Irish

And once in Connemara, the famous Aran Islands are a mere 40-minute ferry-ride away.

Inis Mór, the largest and the most developed of the Aran Islands also boasts of the island’s most celebrated monument, the 2,500-year-old Dún Aonghusa: A semi-circular stone fort standing on 300-feet cliffs.

Visitors to the island can choose between three modes of transport: You can hire a bicycle, ride on a horse-drawn carriage, or hitch a ride on one of the tourist coaches.

Atop the 2,500-year-old Dún Aonghusa

Being as Indian as I am, I took the tourist coach.

Of course, I made sure I had my camera handy: The scenic coastline, the virgin landscape, the famous ruins of the Na Seacht d’Teampaill (the seven churches) and the excursion to Dún Aonghusa provided abundant opportunities to use my click-happy finger.

A churchyard at Na Seacht d’Teampaill

Heck, I even took pictures of the sheer drop of the cliff by lying stone-still at its edge. Very exhilarating!

Living on the edge

One of the most interesting things about Inis Mór – with its 300 native inhabitants and all – is that it has an airport. So, instead of getting back by ferry, I flew back on a on a ten-seater, sitting right behind the single pilot in a flight that lasted a mere eight minutes. Woo hoooo!

No kidding, that was my ride

Must buy: A visit to the Aran islands is incomplete if you don’t pick up the famous Aran sweater. Of course, with its beautiful, traditional designs, the garment might burn a hole in the pocket of the sweater you’re already wearing.

Heading northwards
Over the next few days – interspersed with rounds of Guinness, Irish coffee and sightings of leprechauns in myriad shapes and sizes – I also found the time to make my way to Northern Ireland.

When in Belfast, I say, tootle-off to its famous shipyard. The twin ship-building cranes, Samson and Goliath, greet you as you enter the premises of Harland & Wolff – constructors of the RMS Titanic!

The Titanic was built here!

Locals joke that since the yard is one of Belfast’s greatest tourist attraction, the H & W painted on the cranes might as well stand for “Hello & Welcome!”

While strolling around the dry dock where the ill-fated cruise liner was built, Billy, my guide for the city, was quick to assure me that the Irish did indeed build a ship that was unsinkable.

“But we never took into reckoning that it would be captained by an Englishman,” he joked, half seriously.

Yet another attraction in Belfast – I was to discover – is a ‘Black Taxi Tour’ of the city’s famous murals. The superb artworks – located on the houses of working-class citizens – illustrate Belfast’s politics, struggle and strife.

And truly, there’s no better way to learn of Irish history than to walk down the streets and check out these beautiful paintings by the local artists. Wonderful really!

Must do: Like Dublin, Belfast has its own share of pubs. And let me tell you, it’ll take you a good whole week, before you finish crawling through fourteen of its historical best. Needless to say, it’ll be quite a record if someone were to die of thirst in this city.

Whisky in a jar!
After Belfast, my next stop was Bushmills – the town renowned for its whisky, and its proximity to the Giant’s Causeway – a natural formation made up of around 40,000 basalt columns; some as high as 40 feet!

Giant's Causeway: There's a hex on it

What’s wonderful about this World Heritage Site is that most of the columns are hexagonal in shape and look almost man-made.

Legend has it, that an Irish giant by the name of Finn McCool built the causeway to walk to Scotland to fight his Scottish counterpart, Benandonner – and therefore the name. As for who won the fight, I’m sure – both – the Irish and the Scottish have their own versions.

Me, I didn’t bother myself with the local politics, instead I made haste to the Bushmills brewery and bought myself a bottle of their finest single malts.

I had spirited friends back home who’d appreciate the effort!

Hobbit dwelling? No, that's the Bushmills Inn

Things to do: The place to reside at Bushmills has got to be the Bushmills Inn, a quaint hotel that’s almost reminiscent of cozy Hobbit dwellings. And yes, a canter over the famous rope bridge at the nearby Carrick-a-Rede is bound to give you boasting rights, if you have pictures to prove your brave feat.

The Carrick-a-Rede is ideal for

touristy boasting rights