Nov 2, 2000 The low clouds parted to give us our first brief glimpse of meandering roads, green fields stone fence mazes of the Shannon river valley. Heaher and Mark met us at the airport. Heather was smiling, Mark was as bright-eyed as any 2-year old and every day he was learning more about his world. Outside it rained softly. Heather took us to their beautiful home in Naas. Skylights brightened the upstairs and flowers still bloomed in the backyard garden. When Philip returned from work, Heather cooked a wonderful curried chicken dish for us.
 

Nov 3 2000. Ginnie and I were to meet Philip at noon and he would show me where to catch the bus to Sun Microsystems for my first interview. The bus and Dart subway transported me to Sun much quicker than I expected. I walked through the business park, past the park's convenience store and Sun's hardware facility. When I arrived at Sun I was greeted by a quirky automatic door and a cheerful, spunky receptonist. The intrviews began and one of the first questions about a problem I'd worked on reminded me of the software bug that caused the computer to say "Hold your breath" without commanding the corresponding "Breath." This broke the ice, but soon the converstion moved to a deeper technical level where I missed some questions about C++ and one about Unix. Brian took me downstairs to await my next interview. Several hours had already passed and Brian and I had an informal conversation about work at the company and the company football team. Then the relocation specialist arrived and waited in the lounge with us. Then the relocation specialist explained some things about living in Dublin. She drove me to the train station for the ride back to Naas. Heather, Philip, Ginnie and I had take-out Chinese food. Later we warmed up with tea and talked until very late in the evening.
 

Nov 4, 2000 I was finally able to sleep in and enjoy time with Heather, Philip, Ginnie and Mark. We went back to Dublin to pick up the hired car. Ginnie and I walked down
Grafton street and through the colourful open air markets of Moore street. Heather and Philip took Mark to McDonalds. We wandered into a gift shop. Celtic carved stone and Waterford crystal were displayed in the front of the store while green hats, shamrock T-shirts and plastic leprechauns decorated the shelves in the back. An elderly irish gentleman walked quietly towards the back of the store. Someone bumped one of the leprechauns which caused it to start beeping the tune "When Irish eyes are smiling" in a tinny electronic tone. The white-haired man reached into his long-coat and pulled out a cell phone. He held it to his ear and tried in vain to speak with whoever had called him.

No 5, 2000 We drove through the Wicklow mountains near Carmel Gillis' home to Glendaloch, the monastic settlement of St. Kevin. Misty clouds descended from the autumn colored mountains beyond the ancient church. Lichen covered celtic crosses were scattered throughout the graveyard. It began raining hard by noon and we were a bit late on starting our journey to Cork and my second interview. We stopped at the Rock of Cashel and parked across a field from the entrance to the place where St. Patrick used the shamrock as a symbol of the holy trinity. This is also where St. Patrick baptised king Aengus while accidently driving his walking stick into the king's foot. I wonder if either of these events took place in weather such as this. Gale force winds and icy rain caused bits of stone to fall from this Christian fortress and we were prevented from visiting the grounds. We had dinner at a chipper before continuing south to Jury's hotel in Cork. The rain continued.

Nov 6, 2000 I stepped into the taxi cab while the driver spoke with a famous Irish football player from the glory days in the early 1970s. He told me that I would get the job offer because his was a lucky cab. EMC corporation of Ballincollig was a whie two story flat building. The interior also had that late 1970s plastic and glass look that remind me of Sarasota's Fairchild-Weston before Loral's buyout turned it from a successful working factory into a tax writeoff for a corporation famous for exporting missle technology to communists. Dermot met me and brought me to his boss's glassed-in office. The director of EMC's software was visiting, so soon we were evicted from this office into Dermots shared cubicle. The wind rattled the walls of the building and drove rain against the glass and steel windows. They told me about the job and asked a few technical questions. I was taken back to the hotel in time for a late lunch. The concierge had a message for me to meet Ginnie at a rsturant called Zanzibar. The windey narrow streets of Cork made it quite difficult to find Zanzibar. I asked a few peope I met on the street and although they were very willingto help, none knew how to find the elusive "Zanzibar." A customer at a health food store overheard me asking about Zanzibar. He gave directions which led me down a brick street and up a stairs to a quiet restauant. A CD played the pan-flute version of "Down by the Sully Gardens" as Ginnie smiled. The menu had some perfect combinations Mexi-Indian, Irish-African... We walked back to the hotel and started off towards Blarney Castle The main road and Blackrock Castle wre flooded by the river Lee. So we had to take a much narrower city street past the Gaul (prison) to Blarney. By the time we arrived, the sky was darkening and Blarney Castle was about to close for the day. Cold rain spat at us as we approached the imposing Castle. Storm clouds rolled past the top of the castle as a stern old man shouted into the wind, ''Last call to kiss the stone." We climbed the narrow spiral stairs to the very top of the Castle. The guardian of the stone wore a bright yellow raincoat and stood next to a hole in the Castle roof that revealed an 80 foot drop and a stone worn smooth by the kisses of several hundred years. Perhaps I should have done this on a warmer day and before my two interviews. But I was a tourist in Ireland and this old man had stood in the cold wind all day for such a silly tradition. For all who care, the kiss of this particular stone on this November day was cold... and wet. I didn't notice any subsequent improvement in my eloquence, typing ability or penmenship. This is when Ginnie discovered Blarney Woolen mills. We stayed until closing then returned to Cork where we window shopped at a few antique shops. We saw an enormous crowd a few blocks away and when we drew nearer we could see that this was not a rock concert, presidential appearance. It was a funeral for a well-loved person. We had a late evening meal and went to sleep.

Nov 7, 2000
I attempted to ring the HR repesentative from EMC and someone from the relocation company. I wasn't successful so returned to Blarney Woolen Mills. Several hundred dollars later, we began our jouney West, richer by a few wool sweaters and coats. Our first stop was the colourful seaside town of Kinsale. Sun alternated with light rain as we walked the narrow crooked streets browsing antique shops and gormet restaurants.
We stepped into a cobblestone pub to have lunch. Turf burnned in the fireplace behind me as we enjoyed another excellent meal. We continued towards the southwestern corner of Ireland. Here mountains blocked the north winds and focused the remnants of the Gulf Stream to warm the shoreline of Bantry bay. We found a sign for a B&B atop a hill overlooking the narrow bay. We arrived at the top of the hill as night deepened the blue and purple colors of the sky. It appeared that no one was home. I rang the doorbell and a cheerful woman came out to tell us that because of the rain and floods, she had closed for the season a few days early. We inquired about other B&Bs and returned to our car. As we were about to drive away, she tapped on our car window. She told us that if we dont mind that it will take her a few minutes to clean up, she could take us in for the night. We thanked her for the opportunity and brought our bags into her home. She spoke in that high musical voice of Southwest Ireland and punctuated her sntences with gleeful exclaimations such as "Oh stop it!!" and "Go on with yourself now!" We aaked directions to a place for dinner and were directed to a smokey hotel that was under construction. Along the way we passed what looked like a youth hostil. We entered, hoping that we could find an internet connection.. The place was full of families who appeared to be from all over the world. One person told us that it was a place for refugees. We bypassed the smokey hotel and entered a pub. At first we were the only guests in his pub and te proprieter was asking us about the election. I had purposly avoided election news so this was the first I'd heard that the election was too close to call. An English woman sat down to dinner shortly after our seafood arrived. The Englishwomen went on about what she enjoyed about Ireland. The people of Ireland seem to have their priorities straight. Friends and family and children are more imprtant than careers and excess material wealth. She was to take the ferry back on the following day. We all wondered about the waves in the aftermath of this November Gale. This reminded the owner of the time he was returning from England and storm winds and waves prevented the ferry from landing in an Irish port. The ferry and its passengers remained at sea for three days.

The English woman asked if we were environmentalist and we responded that we try but our county isn't set up for that. Ireland is much closer to being an energy efficient nation. Water is drawn and heated on an as needed basis, skylights and doorway windows illuminate the interior of homes, water is pumped up into resovoirs at night to generate hydropower during the day, wind turbines make use of an almost constant Atlantic breeze. Highly efficient low pressure sodium lights illuminate the busiest roads without excess glare. None of these simple ideas are outside of our capability in the US, we just choose to be wasteful. While we were discussing these topics with the english woman, the pub owner interjected with, "What do you think of your current president, Reagen?". "Don't you mean Clinton?" I asked. "Oh yes, I mean Clinton." 12 years and two U.S. Presidents passed by without effect or concern to those on the shore of Bantry bay. "Clinton, yes. I think he's done a great job." Like a dog with the mange, the further you get from some politicians, the better they look. It is ironic that by visiting this small coutry to escape his problems at home, this charismatic man may have helped inspire the Irish with hope that peace is possible after all of these centuries. Yet I wonder if it had more to do with experiences such as this. A British woman, an Irish man and a politically diverse American couple discuss the world from a pub in a quiet town on a forlorn penninsula while down the road an Ethiopian and an Albanian refuge play pool against a Somolian and a Sikh.. It was quiet and warm night in this small town, the mountains blocked the north wind as the almost full moon rose over the bay.

We returned to the B&B, watched "Splash" on T.V. and went to bed. Something awakened us at about 2:30 A.M. The bright moon shone through the curtains. We found that by changing sides so that I faced west and Ginnie faced east with our feet pointing north, we were able to sleep. Feng Shui in Bantry bay? We didn't know that at this time in the U.S. the polls were begining to close and people were scratchig their heads in wonder as a nation teetered like a penny on its edge.

Nov 8, 2000. We got up late and had a great breakfast with our host (We avoided the Black Pudding and blood sausage.) A sheep wandered into her garden which reminded her of the problems she'd had when a loud and destructive goat would howl at her doorstep while guests were trying to sleep. "Oh stop it!" she exclaimed in her expressive and musical voice.

We began our journey north through the lakes and mountains of Killarney. Blue sky and sunshine made its first appearence on our voyage. White clouds rolled across the mountaintops of Kilarney while bright red and green holly, yellow wildflowers and multicoloured lichen decorated the rocky shores of the deep blue Killarney Lakes. Weather this beautiful is rare even in summer. We saw the castle, Torc falls and the Abbey before we continue towards Dingle.

We'd hoped to reach Bunratty Castle in time for their Medieval Feast, so we stopped at a petrol station midway out the Dingle penninsula so that Ginnie could call in our reservations. While she was on the phone, I looked out over the calm sea and watched small rain showers approach the rugged green shore. A man pulled his truck into the petrol station and was greeted by the resident gentleman. The conversed in Irish for a few minutes before the driver pulled away. Celtic crosses and other ancient grave markers crowded a bluff behind us and glowed in the afternoon sun as gentle waves washed ashore. We cut across the penninsula and followed the Shannon river upstream to Limerick,then back downstream to Bunratty. Ginnie inquired about accomodations at Durty Nellies, an inn established in 1620. Apparently it was primarily a drinking place. After inquiring into a few other B&Bs and hotels, we decided to stay at the Bunratty Hotel. We changed out of our muddy cloths and walked over to the Castle. Ginnie lead the crowd towards the torches illuminating the castle door. The cooks and entertainers unprepared so we were literally storming the castle. We had fun! The lead entertainer was a boistrous baccus-like man with a keen sense of humor. We were first entertained upstairs by a pretty red-haird harpist and an intensly shy violinist. We sipped the hot-spiced wine and listened. Then we were led down stairs to the banquet room where stories, history and song accomanied a 7 course meal. The room was full of Americans, happily enjoying the dinner and honey-sweet mead. Many of those at our table were New York prison guards. One pointed at me and said "You must be from here." If we'd brought the costumes from our renaissance wedding, we might have been put to work.

As we tasted our way through the 7 course dinner, the harpist and violinist played some beautiful solos and duets. The crowd clapped and cheered afterr every song. The musician's reacted as though this were their first appearance at Carnegie hall. We later learned that the violinist mighthave performed there. The shy smile of the violinist and glowing laughter of the harpist brought warmth and cheer to everyone.

It was a clear moonlit night when we left the castle. We waked past the stone and thatch roof cottages of Bunratty folk park and spoke with some Americans who were sitting on a park bench waiting for their friends to come out of a pub. It was a clear niht, but cold. Standing water from the previous deluge was beginning to freeze.
 

Nov 9, 2000
We started west and north towards the Burren and cliffs of Moher. Where we went first depended more on random wrong turns and "Major Construction" than any planning on our part. We arrived in the town of Doolin, long after the end of tourist high season. Ginnie read the weathered sign for the youth hostil, "Internet access here." We were still trying to contact Sun Microsystems, EMC and our friends Dawn and Pat so we pulled into the

Whitewashed stone houses and empty cabins were scattered amongst dunes and sea grass. We listend to he sound of a quiet breeze beating brightly colored cloths on a clothsline, the gurgling of a brook and the calling of seabirds. Once in a great while, the sound of tires on gravel disturbed the silence for a moment. We stepped into the youth hostil and Ginnie went into the phone booth-sized internet room while I tried to ring EMC and Sun. Someone was using the phone in the laundry room so I walked outside to search for another phone. I wasn't sucessful, the nearby B&Bs were shut and still. I returned to use the laundry room phone. A cheerless young girl scolded me for tracking dust into the room. I offered to clean the floor after calling my potential employers. She said nothing, but mopped furiously. Ginnie printed out the message from Heather that said Sun was trying to reach me. We didn't want to risk the wrath of the mop girl, so we went up the road to another youth hostil. Their phone didn't work, but the helpful manager directed us to a pub which housed the only reliable "business" phone for the town of Doolin. Still unable to reach Sun, we drove back south past a castle overlooking the sea and stopped when we saw some men thatching the roof of their whitewashed stone house. Ginnie asked if we could take pictures and asked about the thatch. "How often do you have to do this?"

The younger man answered, "About every 40 years, you'll have to ask him how to do it, because he's older than me."

"Where do you get the thatch?" Ginnie called up to them.
"It's imported from Turkey, they say it is supposed to last longer than the local stuff."

Ginnie drove us furthur on, to the cliffs of Moher. My sister was engaged to be married here just a few months ago. Waves crashed into the rocky face of the cliff far below. From our vantage point, the sea looked unusually calm, but the strong west wind blew the sea spray straight up the 600 foot face of the cliff so that we saw what looked like rain sparkling in the late afternoon sun and falling up into the deep blue sky. We drove back east to find the pre-christian ringfort and stone age dolmon.

The sun set quickly and a full moon rose over the misty fields and graveyards. We were unable to find the ring fort, so we stopped to look down to see the moonlight sparkling across lough derg and backtracked to the ancient stone tomb called Poulnambrone dolman. The sky was so very dark, clear and cold that we could only see the horizon as the place where the stars stopped. Saturn, the pleides and brilliant jupiter rose in the east. The moon allowed us just enough light to see the fractured rock landscape and something that appeared tilted and out of place to the north. It was the dolmon. There were no nearby lights to interfere with our viiew of the sky. Everything appeared almost exactly as it had the year someone built this tomb and mourned and shed tears over a lost leader or lover or friend. Thousands of years passed like the blink of an eye while Buddahism, Islam and Christianity were born. The Dolmon was here when the first Christians came and when they were followed by the Vikings and the English. This monument stood silently as wars were fought and the earth's poles moved to a new star.

We traveled north to the mountains overlooking Galway bay,then east around the bay towards Galway. A sign pointed the direction to a youth hostil. We followed the dirt road and pulled in behind the stone house. A long-haired gentleman with a velvety English voice invited us in out of the cold. He was alone, reading and drinking tea beside the fireplace. The time-yellowed walls were decorated with paintings, photos, letters and newspaper clippings. Something about his quiet warm voice and manner told me that he was well read, and at least through books had led a life of uncommon depth. He told us that this was the home where W.B. Yeats met Lady Gregory to form the Abbey theatre. The man very much wanted us to stay, out of lonliness if nothing else. When he heard that we were going home soon and that we hadn't been to Galway, he said "You've never been there? Oh, you must go to Galway." He sent us on our way, but it was with mixed feelings. He went back by the fireplace to read. I hadn't thought of it at the time, but as I write this I wonder if this poem by W.B. Yeats resonates with something or someone in this man's life: