I left my heart in West Cork

If anyone can believe it, the last time I was in Ireland was in 1980! I was a rambunc-

tious 6 year old who managed to get her foot stuck in the spokes of a bike wheel and crack open her skull after falling off a door in the space of about two weeks, prompting my relatives to request that my mom take me home and never bring me back! So, I haven’t been back since and now I don’t know why I ever stayed away.

I know I went on about how Africa feels like home to me, but within just a few minutes of my arrival in West Cork, I knew my spirit was home. The quilted hills that look soft enough to bounce on, the low-lying clouds that really make you feel like heaven is only just out of reach, the colourfully painted storefronts alternating with enough pubs for every hour of the day... I know you’ve heard it all before, but it is all true! I guess I’ll have to live 6 months in Africa and 6 months in West Cork! Although it is possible that the Guarda (or cops) in Skibbereen might take objection to me living there if they realise I was the one belting out Hey Mickey right at them while they were trying to close an illegally open pub or that I, too, was the one dancing on the table to Summer of ‘69 (justifying it with ‘C’mon, he’s Canadian!) while my cousins and little brother Brian looked on in horror and concern (Brian was very concerned that my dismount off the table would be very dangerous). Long story short, if I can get past the cops, I will definitely be back in Skib!

Highlights for the rest of Ireland have included:

-Brian and I realising (a little too late, cuz we were in the middle of some wonderful tunes in a Limerick pub) that not all Irish people sing as much as we Duffys do.

-Inspiring mass hooliganism as my cousin and I hopped the fence (read: broke into) the most westerly point of Ireland.

-Sleeping in a hallway on Christmas Eve cuz there was literally no room in the Inn!

-Treating Aman (and most of the street) to another performance of the Duffy Family Singers during the Literary Pub Crawl in Dublin (the poor girl couldn’t get a word in).

-Going head to head (and losing) with my big brother Conor in a trivia contest at the end of the above mentioned Literary Tour. In my defence, he IS a literature teacher.

-Stepping into The Dragon on New Year’s Eve in Dublin and very quickly realising that Karen, Aman and I would have to keep a really close eye on Sean, because the boys were far too pretty and the music was way too good!

-A trip to Belfast where, despite the sobering effects of this beautiful and sometimes troubled city, Aman and I managed to take in 6 pubs in one day (including the test-your-Fate pint in the often bombed Europa Hotel). And just to show you how generous the Irish are: they ordered up a blizzard for us to drive home in, so I could get all prepped for frosty Edmonton!

-The culmination of a fantastic journey on Dec 31^st, 2007, as The Jacket of the Clan of the Travelling Black Gold returned home to The Guinness Brewery at St. James’ Gate in Dublin. It was a beautiful experience that would have brought tears to a glass eye. It was made even more beautiful as Aman was accosted by what she assumed were the kids from Angela’s Ashes. That pic (and others of The Jacket) coming soon on facebook.

Yesterday, the last day of my trip, me Faaather and I decided to take in a little archaeology (in a desperate attempt to balance all the heretofore debauchery) and headed to Newgrange, a magnificent mound tomb built in 3200BC (that’s 500 years before the Pyramids, folks!) to align perfectly with the sunrise during the Winter Solstice. Then on to the Hill of Tara, the magical Druid seat of Irish power until St. Paddy came in a screwed them all over. It was a fantastic end to a fantastic journey, and we managed to find a pint anyway!

So there is it: after taking the decidedly long way home, I return to Canada. For those of you still reading, thank you for sharing in these 8.5 weeks, 600 pounds of pasta, 1000’s of works of art, one pasty Jesus, 14 tonnes of chocolate, 1000’s of birds that might or might not retake the world, gallons of sangria, one Atlantic Ocean, one Sahara Desert, 1 million sheep, one absentee Muffin Man, one millilitre of Ewan McGregor spittle, 5 million gallons of Guinness, 732 potatoes, and the best cousins a girl can ask for.

Love,

Jen