Ireland in All Its Glory

By GAIL LOWE

Anyone who can claim Irish ancestry should make at least one pilgrimage to the Emerald Isle. But spending a week there — first Dublin, then Killarney and finally Galway — was just not enough. A trip to Ireland deserves not one week or two, but three or even more. There simply is not enough time to see all the sights, from the Book of Kells to the Ring of Kerry.

With Oscar Wilde

Every scene, every vista is more beautiful than the one before, and this is no exaggeration.

This is a country that takes pride in cleanliness. There is little to no litter lining the roadways, either highway or country lane. It simply does not exist in any manner, shape or form, and this makes Ireland all the more enjoyable.

We started out in Dublin at the Dublin Central Hotel on Talbot Street. Finding the hotel proved difficult because we were unfamiliar with the layout of the city. Talbot Street is north of the Liffey River, which flows through Dublin before it finds its way to the Irish Sea. The hotel’s signage is hung above a single entry doorway. Had we not looked carefully, we would have missed it. After a long overnight flight that landed us in London’s Heathrow before a connecting flight took us to Dublin, checking in was most welcome. There was limited parking at the rear of the hotel, but when we arrived there were two spaces left. We were so grateful.

The room we occupied was on the second floor, a small space without much room to move around. Even smaller was the shower stall. A man or woman of generous size would find it difficult to soap up and rinse off. But we had to make do, and we did.

Too tired to venture far from the hotel, we found a casino called “Play Land” directly across from the hotel. My five euros were gone within a minute or two. Hungry now, we found a pub called O’Shea’s and sampled delicious seafood chowder made with hake and cod, fishermen’s pie and burgers. Sorry, Legal Seafoods. O’Shea’s was just as good, if not better.

The following morning we could have walked to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells, and Grafton Street for a bit of shopping and even St. Stephen’s Green. But the drive to Killarney was four hours, and the collective thought was that it was best to get on the road.

We left Dublin — a big city much like Boston except the buildings are far smaller — on Thursday morning, and touched upon Kildare, Ennis and Limerick as we drove along the highway toward Killarney. We found our next lodging place — Castlerosse Hotel in Killarney, about mid-afternoon. A family of deer live on the nine-hole golf course and woke us the next two mornings with their bugling.

Killarney is not much more than a village, but it was chockfull of boutique shops, pubs and restaurants. On this day, we toured the

Dingle Peninsula

Dingle Peninsula by way of a comfortable touring bus. Only six or seven other people joined us as we cruised along the sometimes twisting coast and marveled at the steep cliffs, stone beehive “homes” indigenous Christian people lived in centuries ago and startling green fields where sheep and cattle happily grazed. The tour took up the day, but we were not too tired in the evening to drive to Killarney to sample Irish stew and fish ‘n chips at O’Donoghue’s, a restaurant and music venue. Both were delicious.

Later that night, we searched for authentic Irish music and found what we were looking for right at our fingertips — O’Donoghue’s. We listened to an Irish foursome sing songs like “Whiskey in the Jar” and “Dirty Old Town.” Fabulous songs accompanied by squeezebox, banjo and two guitars. Now I’d like to hear Irish music played at a restaurant in Somerville’s Davis Square.

We had reservations in Galway for Saturday and Sunday nights at Flannerys Hotel, an easy find. While in Galway, we visited the downtown and canal that runs through the city before dumping into Galway Bay. We knew a hurricane was brewing in the Atlantic — Ophelia — and wondered if it would impact our travel. It did, but not to the point that it spoiled our trip.

Sunday afternoon, we visited with our traveling companions’ cousins in Wakefield (Galway County). Late by 15 minutes, we arrived at 2:15 p.m. and cousin Frank’s wife Una promptly seated us and began serving dinner, which she took great pains to prepare. First course: A multi-vegetable (accent on squash) pureed soup that was absolutely delicious. Second course: Plated pot roast slices, mashed potato, baked potato, sliced carrots, broccoli and gravy. She also set on the table a casserole dish of cauliflower with cheese sauce and sliced peppers in various colors.

Cliffs of Moher

Not to be missed were the Cliffs of Moher, which we visited the following day, a spectacular scene of impossibly tall cliffs. The wind here was fierce, and people are repeatedly warned not to get close to the edge. We viewed the cliffs from a safe spot where a wall prevents falls. A lone sea stack sits in the water below where rolling surf comes in from the Atlantic.

At night we dined at Murphy’s, a pub for “old men” and enjoyed traditional Irish food, including Irish stew.

Hurricane Ophelia was threatening life and limb, so we left Monday morning and drove back to Dublin for a final night’s stay at the hotel where we started out — the Dublin Central Hotel. Three people in various locations in Ireland lost their lives during Ophelia, the biggest storm to hit Ireland in 50 years. Sadly, we missed seeing the Book of Kells, St. Stephen’s Green and Grafton Street because everyone had buttoned up — from restaurants and pubs to schools and colleges.

We did, however, enjoy one final stop at Madigan’s, a pub where some of us enjoyed a pint of Guinness. A jolly sort of man took my hand and showed me a wall of framed pictures of famous writers who had found food and comfort there. That’s how it is in Ireland. Entrance into a pub guarantees that you’ll leave having made a new friend.

While in Ireland, the famed Irish mist graced our skin. We heard Irish brogues everywhere. And one taxi driver showed off his Irish humor by telling a joke about Steve Jobs, Johnny Cash and Bob Hope. We even got a rainbow in Dublin when Ophelia moved in.

Rainbow over Dublin

There’s truth that Irish eyes smile and that the country is Emerald green. The Irish are proud of their heritage and take equal pride in Irish writers like James Joyce and Oscar Wilde.

Someone once told me that of all the countries he had visited, Ireland was the one place he wanted to return to again and again. Now I know why. I want to return, too. To walk Dublin where literary giants breathed the air. I want to hear more of that Irish music and humor. I want to talk to the people and ask them what they think of Americans. I want to find that four-leaf clover and kiss the Blarney Stone. I want to marvel once again at the remarkable green vistas where sheep, cattle and horses graze.

I want to fall head over heels in love with Ireland all over again.