Travel Tips from the Varney Girls

3:05 P.M. July 2012 - in the Minneapolis Airport (for 7 more hours)

Note: This is for those you planning to travel in Ireland! The girls had intended to blog about the various places we stayed...and ended up doing it all at once. Abigail's comments are, unsurprisingly, in purple, and Ella's are in blue.

Dublin: O'Shea's Merchant Bar/B&B

At first, when you hear you are staying in a bar, your expectations drop a bit, but the room was not bad at all, offering a nice view over the town, giving an ideal place for a little people watching while sipping tea. The food is nice, the setting perfect for easy access all over town! Over all, not bad.

I have to agree with Abby on the staying in the bar, it’s a little on the creepy side, but the room was nice, small with three beds that took up most of the space, and a nice view. Besides when you are so tired you could sleep in a dumpster in an alleyway in Manhattan NY, do you really care about what your room looks like?

Laragh, County Wicklow: Tudor Lodge B&B

Although the main building is a B&B, we stayed in a serene little cottage. It was small; there was the main room, which was dining room/ living room/ bedroom. This was where my parents slept. By the groans and constant complaints of long term back injuries, I am not sure it was the most comfortable situation, but me and Ella were housed in a little loft. I managed not to hit my head but Ella was constantly having short notice meetings with the first aid bag. The village was small but cute, nice food. We went on a nice hike, accompanied by these things that are like mosquitoes, they are called midges and they pee on you - really nice. There was a great bar that served you free chicken wings at half time for the soccer game!

Overall it was a tranquil place to stay and very beautiful setting with good service.

 Wow did I hate the ceiling of that loft, Abby’s right I managed to hit my head on the low ceiling every time I went to bed. We spent most of time exploring the town; it was cute and sleepy with a nice restaurant where we celebrated my parent’s anniversary. Seven years of love, how sweet!

Belturbet, County Cavan: Staghall Old School

Very good service……and cookies! The room was great; the town was a short walk away. Good movie selection, we watched King Arthur - I did not pick it out! Beds were very comfortable, the breakfast was delicious, and they had some horses and a foal which was super cute! Overall extremely nice place with great service!

 I enjoyed staying at this house, even if it was only for one night. The room was very sweet with a homey feel to it. The bathroom was a very important part of this room, it was actually bigger than the main part of the room with the beds! It was every girls dream with a basket with everything ranging from tampons to lavender hair spray! The breakfast was good made up of mostly meat. The sausages were a little soggy, not my favorite but good, and the service was great!

Rathmelton, County Donegal:Donegal Shore B&B

This was my favorite place! They had extremely good service, great rooms, beautiful gardens and good breakfast! They were very nice folks, welcoming, and I cherished the four days I spent there! Nice walk to town, fun town, only one restaurant though! While we were there the Lennon Festival (named after the river, not John Lennon, as we suspected) was happening. We got to watch the raft races, people built rafts and would race, or float at a leisurely pace down the river and back, hilarious! This place is highly recommended and has my vote!!!!!

 I enjoyed this house; it was comfortable with a conservatory and a beautiful garden and in it a small pond. In the pond were two fish, Josephine and Tommy, we grew quite close in the four days we stayed there.The first morning at breakfast two men who were also staying at the house and were sitting next told us stories about England and their childhood. That night my parents went out to the pub. We were asleep by the time they got back so we did not find out about their night. The next morning as we were exploring the town and two men looked up and started asking my dad and mom if they had headaches from there hangovers or if they were feeling okay after last night. It gets you wondering what happens in pubs come nighttime!

Derry: Pump House Apartments

Nice place, fun. Great setting for easy access to the city. We went on a nice tour while we were there, got caught up on the city’s history, this tour is highly recommended, called Derry city tours! Place was big, comfortable, you have to go up like 100 flights of stairs though (only three) to get to the apartment we stayed in, very physically draining. Nice view of the white building next door, you could really see the intricate design of bricks covered by white wash, nice really! J Overall, good!

I liked this apartment it was well furnished and nice, but no real highlight of the trip. It was a relaxing place and I liked Derry a lot. We went on a tour of the walls, it rained the whole time and my rain jacket is more like a rain failure! The actual tour was very informative and enjoyable! As Abby said we had a wonderful view; the lovely building complete with broken pipes and overhanging weeds on top of whitewashed  walls was the best part of Derry.

Cushendall: Garron View B&B

Very nice place! Nice rooms! Best breakfast we have had at a B&B! There was this cow there, really nice!  Would come up to you and lick your clothes and shoes! We named it Roshin! There was also this baby cow that was born when we were there, cute!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Very big mom, I don’t know what they fed that thing! Great places to visit, waterfall hikes, we opted to take the scenic route, more like death wish route, it was super long and we were once again visited by the midges, I don’t know what they drink that makes them pee constantly! Nice hike though!!!!!!!! We also went to an orange order parade, weird! My mom probably had a bit more to say on that thing! Overall, great!!!!!!!!

I never knew you could fall in love with a cow! Roshin was a cow who acted like a dog. Seriously. She would lick you and let you hug her and pet her. The food at this bed and breakfast was great the warm rolls and homemade breads were exceptional!

Belfast: Premier Inn

Not bad, they offered you a lot of different benefits that never really worked out. Interesting place, service was good, comfortable space! Belfast was a very interesting town! Fun!!!!!

I loved Belfast, like Dublin it was bright and colorful with performers in the street and booths selling gifts and home-made foods and candies. We visited the titanic museum which was so interesting and so informative!

 Skerries, County Dublin: Jantol House B&B

Nice place! Cute little town! Good access to the beach, which was beautiful. We went to a cute museum, the house was nice, the service okay, weird breakfast ordeal!  Overall, nice place and great little town!

I enjoyed this place immensely, the walks on the beach and the thrill of the cars flying through the corners during the rally. The place we stayed in was a big B&B with a nice atmosphere. The town was cute and quaint, pretty much the same as the rest of the country towns in Ireland.

Athlone: Arch House Apts

Nice, big space! The town was kinda depressing, but not that bad! Spent a very relaxing time there! The house was nice and comfortable, although the utensils were kinda dirty!  Over all, great place, not a very fun town!!!!!!! But was close to other places such as Galway, which are nice towns!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We stayed in the arch houses, and as Abby mentioned it’s a big space. We visited Galway on Wednesday. Galway has been my favorite place to go, with performers on the streets and celebration in the air, the atmosphere is warm and makes you happy. The people are friendly and helpful. It is a big tourist city, though small, and people line the streets; laughing and talking, selling and buying toys and treats in the gift shops that line the sidewalks. Our own town is small and sleepy, rainy and quaint.

6:21 P.M. July 18, 2012: Top 10

6:21 P.M. July 18, 2012

Tomorrow we head back to Dublin for our last night in Ireland. It’s hard to pick favorites from five weeks of travel. The flow was great.  A week in study, a week travelling with a girl-friend, three weeks adventuring with the family. As a student and practitioner of peace and reconciliation, the time exceeded my expectations. This blog was dedicated predominantly to those experiences, as a way of sharing with folks back home something of what I am learning, and selfishly, helping me record my learnings. But as we wind down out time here, here’s my top 10 favorite things about this trip (at least the ten that come to mind at the moment), unrelated to peace and conflict.

1.   Being called “love.” There’s something so endearing about a fellow that will approach someone standing a little lost on a street corner, map in hand, and ask, “You all right there, love?”  It happened often enough, and I always instantly felt better.

     

     2. Dancing in Derry. I mean, yes, the countryside and coastline and fields of sheep are all incredibly beautiful, but when you live in Montana, everything is sort of beautiful all the time. The Derry “club scene” was incredible in its own right. Perhaps because the island is mostly rural, folks go all out in the cities. Think giant hair, copious makeup, los of skin, excessive sparkle. I was sure half the women were drag queens; I was wrong. I found a woman from my program, Sarah, who - in addition to being a rock star anti-racist/queer/feminist educator in Sydney - loves to dance as much as I do. We had a blast rocking to an eclectic pulsing dance mix that spanned Gaga to Paul Simon, and somehow worked. The men in Ireland aren’t known for their skills on the dance floor, but one boy from Belfast more than made up for that.

     3.       Tea everywhere. It’s such a sweet ritual, really. And I learned that it’s always tea time: when you wake up, arrive somewhere, meet a friend, return home, need a pick-me-up, are gearing to go out at night, before bed...

     4.      Jared and the calf. I had heard from Josie, our B&B host in Cushundall, that they had a calf the night before. I had yet to meet her husband, Jared, but when I saw him drive in as we were heading out I went to ask him about the calf, hoping the girls and I would be able to visit. As it turned out he was just returning from saving the calf from the river, and though we were meeting for the first time his eyes filled with tears while he described the harrowing rescue of the newborn, punctuating (as I learned was his way) every few words with my name. “I’ll tell you Amie, the wee calf was down in the river, Amie, and I didn’t think I could get there Amie. The water, it was rushing all around me, Amie, and I was sure that calf was going to die in the water and rocks, Amie, but, Amie, I got to it, and, Amie, it’s just grand.” I too was crying by the end of the story.

     5.       Wee. In the North, everything is wee. It often appears several times in the same sentence, as in, “you’ll just take the wee road to the right, and you’ll see a wee caravan park with a wee sign for your B&B…” It’s also used to describe things of giant proportion, like the largest meanest scariest mama cow I have ever seen who was described by farmer Jared as “a wee bit cross.” Every time I heard it, it made me giggle on the inside, even while trying to avoid eye contact with the mean scary mama cow.

A wee poster.

    

     6.   The Singing Bar. We arrived in County Donegal, in the wee village of Rathmelton, just in time for there annual festival, which included, among other things, a “singing bar” competition. We didn’t know what that meant until we found ourselves in one. Apparently it’s a competition among pubs – a different pub in town has a different night of the week to impress the judges with the size of their crowds, the vibe of the evening, and the quality of the local talent. “Local talent” was anyone who could/would sing. A little band accompanied each performer, and before I understood what was happening I was put on a list and before long they called out “Amie from Montana” and our new friend from Great Falls yelled out “Brokeback!”  and there was no turning back. I survived! (Indecently, this was the second time someone felt compelled to yell the reference to Brokeback Mountain as I was approaching a critical moment. The first was at the closing ceremony for my course in Derry, just as I was receiving my certificate from Nobel Peace Prize winner and key architect of the Good Friday Peace Agreement, John Hume. Thanks, Barry.)

Meeting John Hume. 

      7.      Being taken home by Maria. This is really a placeholder for the amazing generosity of everyone we’ve met. I was walking along a coastal path, set to meet my family in a couple hours, and came upon Maria and Zhi-Zhi, her sweet greyhound cross. We walked for an hour, Maria telling me about growing up in Ireland and the troubles and her politics and then she took me to her little house - in process of renovation after a mudslide flooded the place - served me wine and we looked at paint chips and talked about Mexico, and about being women travelers. What a gift! And everyday had someone like Maria.

     8.     Jersey Shore. This is a placeholder for all the cooky pub experiences that might have been gross/weird/scary had I not gotten to share them with Jenae...and because I DID get to share them with her, they were hilarious.  Jersey Shore was the name we gave to a young man in Portrush who was very excited to meet two Americans – especially one from New York. He said, “You know Jersey Shore? I love that show!” while he started sort of swaggering and pelvic thrusting and grabbing his boy parts and trying to put them on the table (someone will have to tell me if this has something to do with the reality TV show). It went on and on…“You know Snooky? I’m going to do her…” He was easily confused, thinking I was married to a much older man sitting near us, then relieved that I wasn’t, and then taking me aside and in a serious tone and asking, “why did you do that to your hair?” He thought I had streaked it grey (there are no grey haired women in Ireland, and I think just three colors of dye: platinum, red, and black). He was just one of the characters that particular night in that particular pub, and there were many characters (a rowdy crew of aging lesbians; an old man who only said “fuck off”, and said it often; a raucous hen party; etc.) – it is so special to experience these characters with a close friend!

Jenae on the bus. 

     9.    Roisin. I have written elsewhere about the affectionate cow. The girls and I sort of fell in love with her, named her Roisin (Row-Sheen), and visited her several times a day for the few days we were staying near her pasture. She would lick our shoes, thrust her neck forward into our faces and roll her eyes back when we scratched behind her ears, rub her head up and down the entire length of our bodies. I am certain now that my Rottweilers are part bovine.

    10.    Sean’s Bar in Athlone. It’s apparently the oldest pub in all of Ireland, dating back to 991 A.D.  For real. It’s long and narrow, with various rooms, creating several different pub experiences in the same locale. The night Lauren and I were in, the front of the house had an “open set” going. Folks wander in with instruments, join a circle of musicians, and take turns leading songs. Everyone - from young punked out vocalists to old traditional flutists - accompanies one another, and we heard original tunes, old Irish folk songs, Poison, Delta Blues, James Taylor…It was my idea of heaven. In the back of the house was a 20 piece brass band, median age about 80, playing swing. Also incredible.

Throughout it all, the most significant experience for me personally was the gift of unstructured time. Particularly these last three weeks with my daughters, my husband, and myself. I have built a very full, rich life, a life which I am so incredibly grateful for. And, I rarely have significant stretches of unstructured time. What an amazing thing to settle into such a different schedule: to take whatever detour we wanted, to get lost, to walk without destination, to stay in bed on rainy mornings and read, to fall into conversations with strangers and take them to their natural conclusion, to patiently wait for sheep to cross the road.  I am so thankful for all that made this possible, particularly the board and staff at NCBI. The trip has been inspiring and restorative, and I am ready to come home!

Sheep crossing. 

11:07 Sunday July 15, 2012

11:07 Sunday July 15, 2012

The last peace-building organization I visited in the North was the Corrymeela Community, set on a hill overlooking the stunning coast of Northern Ireland. It was established in 1965 by Reverend Ray Davey. Davey had been a prisoner of war in Italy and Germany. He envisioned an ecumenical spiritual community where people live, work, and pray together as an alternative to the violence he witnessed in the world. When the troubles broke out, Corrymeela grew into a place of refuge - people who were burned out of their homes found temporary housing there - and reconciliation. Corrymeela became known for facilitating dialogue between diverse groups, teaching mediation and conflict resolution skills, and fostering positive relationships across group lines. Their physical location and space was central to their mission. They are physically removed from areas of conflict, and offer a residential setting where groups can come and stay together.

Though NCBI doesn't offer the residential experience - outside of our High School Training of Trainers - their practice, methodology, and values are very similar to our own. The setting is stunning, and even to me, a mostly secular Jew, the place felt deeply spiritual. It was easy to imagine people having transformative experiences in such a place.

But it was hard to imagine the folks from Rasharkin there, the Catholic hurlers and the Orange men and the police officers. Even if they were willing to engage in some sort of a community-building process, the community does not have resources to pay for a program at Corrymeela, and Corrymeela doesn't have the resources to orchestrate such a gathering, as they have lost much of their funding since Northern Ireland moved further into the "post-Conflict" years.

Corrymeela continues to do excellent work, leading summer programs that bring together Christian, Jewish and Muslim youth from around the world, for example. Reflecting on the range of organizations I have visited, it seems they each fill a niche, and meet a need, and that though the needs are changing they have not gone away.


Over the last month I have visited folks from a dozen peace-building programs, I have toured a handful of museums and communities in conflict, and in pubs and cabs and on beaches and mountain trails I have had probably over a hundred informal conversations with people about their experience of the troubles. My heart and mind are full of the images, stories, and songs of this place. 


We'll be in the Republic of Ireland for this last week here, and though I will continue to have informal conversations about peace and conflict, my formal investigation - so far as I know - is complete. Next on the agenda is attending a stage rally (cars driving fast down windy roads)...you can guess whose idea that was!

The girls this morning, on the beach in Skerries.

6:09 A.M July 13, 2012

6:09 A.M July 13, 2012

Though I've stumbled upon a handful of Orange Order marches since I've been here, with all the tension and conflict associated with the 12th of July, I felt ambivalent about attending any on the big day. A new friend (owner of The Tower Bar in Ballymoney) reminded me that's sort of why I'm here.

There were hundreds of marches yesterday, most of them completely uneventful. A couple made the news, with the most trouble in North Belfast. Lauren, the girls and I went to the little village of Rasharkin, population 800 or so, not far from where we are staying.

There are hundreds of different "lodges" of the Orange Order throughout Northern Ireland and beyond;  each choose different locations to march. It seemed like a dozen or so came to Rasharkin for the 12th.The march is really three waves of marches. First, over the course of several hours, each lodge marches through town to assemble. Some lodges are quite small - twenty or so people. About mid day, the full group marches back through town, heading the opposite direction. In Rasharkin I'd guess there were a couple hundred marchers in total. There they assemble again, have tea, snacks, and maybe a couple pints. Then, early evening, the full group marches through town a third time. Unlike U.S. parades that stick to main streets, Orange Order marches like to travel through neighborhoods as well. Things are more likely to get hot when the Order marches through Catholic neighborhoods, especially during the third trip through town, when marchers and neighbors may be a little sauced and some Catholic neighbors have had it with the "we won, you lost" feel of the day.

Rasharkin was one of the contested marches this year, as residents of a predominantly Catholic cul-de-sac had petitioned to keep the Orange Order from taking their traditional path through their neighborhood. The parade commission granted this request, and the Order had responded that this failure to allow them to march their traditional route was a breach of their civil rights. A resident group requested permission to protest (you have to do that here, as a result of the history of riots in Northern Ireland), and were allowed 50 people.

We rolled into town around 11:30. It really isn't much of a town - you could drive through it trying to find the city center. None the less it was decked out for the 12th, as all Protestant towns are here, with union jacks flying from every light pole.

We talked to a few Orange Order folks gathered at one end of town, learned the main march started at 1:00, and where to park so we could get out later. Though the streets were strangely empty, police were everywhere - about 8 per block for 10 blocks or so. We found the protesters gathered under a single tricolor - the flag of Ireland - in the parking lot of  the grocery store. It was a group of 15-20 men. They were in their own sort of uniforms - all wearing athletic jerseys and carrying hurling sticks. 

The first guy we talked to told us they weren't really protesting, since the parade commission had swore to uphold the approved route. They were mostly just watching to document any abuse from the marchers. Watching with hurling sticks, Lauren asked? This is where we play, he responded. Any day you drive through town we'll be here, hitting the ball against the side of the store. As we waited for the marching to begin, they told us how the police didn't want peace, and to just watch how they egged people on. They told us that marching isn't the problem - each side should be able to celebrate their holidays - but that it doesn't have to be so "in your face." They shouldn't march through Catholic neighborhoods, and they don't need to put flags on every light pole. "We only put flags up every other one during our parades."

I talked with a number of police officers. The first guy I met was born and raised in Colorado (of course- just the way this small world works). He said we should make sure to come back to see the town on another day - "it's a really lovely village." Another officer and I chatted about why I was in town. When I said I lead peace-building work in the U.S., he said, "good - that's what we need- help breaking the circle..." and then got very philosophical about the state of the world.

A half hour before the march was set to begin the group of protesters began to swell a bit, some women joining in. Police formed a loose line in front of them, nearly matching them 1:1. A scuffle broke out in front of a pub down the street - the protesters said it was the cops bent on arresting them and having a reason to shut them out; the police said it was a domestic disturbance. A man walked by with his son in a stroller, and I overheard the woman he was with say, "at least having him here," implying the toddler, "will keep you safe," nodding to the police. 

When the march finally got underway, the police formed a solid line between the marchers and the group. Things started to get hot when an officer began to tell the residents they needed to stand behind, rather than on, the sidewalk. Officers opted to just block and surround the group.

I'm used to U.S. style parades, where people line the streets and cheer, and paraders wave and throw candy. This march was a bit more somber. The Orange Order is a formal crowd. There are mostly men, though there are some women and children, all dressed in black. Men where bowler hats, white gloves, and orange sashes.  Each lodge seemed to have a band - which looks and sounds like a military marching band - and a group of people walking with banners illustrating the victory of Protestant King William of Orange over Catholic King James for control of Great Britain in 1690.

Here's a short clip to give you a feel.

We saw a few families out to watch the festivities, a few little ones dressed up in their red, white and blue (so strangely familiar), but not many.  I'm guessing that many of the Protestant residents were IN the march, leaving few people left to watch. I'm also guessing the threat of protest kept some from coming out. I'm told there are plently of bigger towns, with fewer Catholics, where the marches feel quite festive. This one seemed rather like something that had to be endured, by the marchers, the Catholic not-protesters, and the police officers. If felt more about making a statement than a celebration. And the statements that were intended to be communicated may be different that the ones that were received. Perhaps the Order is making a statement about Protestant pride; it can look and feel like a statement of power and supremacy. Perhaps the Catholic residents are making a statement of resistance, it can look and feel like bullying and hooliganism. I think the police were trying to represent order and safety; to the Catholic residents out yesterday they represented a threat.

I'll be thinking more about what this little experience in a rural community might mean for me and my work, what it might teach me about the nature of conflict, memory, and transformation...but for now I just wanted to record it. 

11:21 P.M. July 10, 2012

We packed a lot in the last couple days. I felt like I had only scratched the surface during my first week in Derry, and had a few things on my agenda to explore- namely the Protestant perspective. But first, the family took an amazing guided tour of the city put on by Martin McCrossan - I highly recommend it. He somehow condensed over 400 years of history into an easy to follow form, bringing us up through the most recent events, including the Queen's recent and first visit to Northern Ireland. Derry is a city with remarkable historical landmarks, and the tour brought these landmarks to life- whether we were talking about the building of the Derry walls in 1614, or the 1689 siege on the city, or Bloody Sunday in 1972.

The girls and  I later went to the Apprentice Boys Hall, which serves as a museum and meeting hall for   a Protestant group commemorating the protection of Derry city during the 108 day siege.  We heard about some of the same events and landmarks Martin described on the tour, but the "facts" were completely different. As we were walking out, Abigail asked, "so whose history should I believe?" Great question. Nowhere has the subjective nature of history been more apparent to me than here.

Lauren and I also spent some time in the Fountain, a small Protestant enclave within the Catholic dominated part of Derry. We visited a youth center, which is celebrating 40 years of service this year, and met an amazing woman who, alongside her husband until his passing a few years ago, founded and directs the center. In the rioting, bombing and burning that occurred following Bloody Sunday, their family had to flee her home in Derry. They returned to provide youth an alternative to involvement in paramilitary groups. "You just can't let vigilantes control your town, you just can't," she explained. Their programs have shifted over the years, but they provide a safe place for young people to hang out and opportunities for youth empowerment and development. Many of their programs are inter-generational in nature - youth engaging their elders to collect and record histories, for example.  


The biggest challenges she sees today stem from the economic hardships people are under. There are 108 children who use the Center - she knows every single one, each of their parents, and most of their parents' parents. She knows their stories. Many are struggling.


When I asked her what she considered her greatest success, she reflected, "changing attitudes." This was a theme Martin, our tour guide, hammered home as well. Yes, Derry has been through a lot, and there are still disagreements, but it will absolutely, in his estimation, not go back to the way it was. He had many powerful stories to demonstrate the shifts in attitudes that have happened over the years. Toward the end of the tour, we came to a Presbyterian Church that had sat empty for a number of years. Most of it's members had moved out of the Catholic dominated neighborhood where the church stood, and the building had fallen into disrepair. But a number of Catholic leaders came together as allies to help find funding to repair and reopen the church. At the opening ceremony, the Reverend specifically thanked his friend Martin - Martin McGuinness, leader of Sinn Fein - for calling every other week to encourage the reopening of the church and help support the project. This is just one example of the hundreds of cross-community projects that have happened throughout Northern Ireland, and that rarely make news. This week, when there is sure to be plenty in the media about sectarian tension and acts of violence, it's critical to also hold on the picture of how much healing has taken place, and how committed so many are in finding new ways forward together. 


We are now back in the country, in the town of Cushendall where we have made friends with a very affectionate cow.

7:37 P.M. July 8, 2012

7:37 P.M. July 8, 2012

I'm back in Derry, and we can definitely feel it. July 12th is the big anniversary event for the Orange Order (and a national holiday). The ramp up to the 12th happens over several weeks, and just after we settled into our apartment they paraded through town, accompanied by strong police presence. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around...by American standards, any group should have the right to freely assemble, so, that part is not a stretch for me. I wish the Westboro Baptist Church did not have that right, but I get why they do.

But to have a Protestant sectarian/supremacist group have a national holiday, and to allow them to parade through Catholic neighborhoods, and in some areas to have the government prohibit any form of protest...that's the hard part to understand.

None the less I'm glad to be back here, because this is why I'm here - to try and understand. Tomorrow, among other things, I plan to visit the Prostesant neighborhood of Derry, and learn a bit of their perspective. I think that will help.

The week in Donegal was lovely. We were there intentionally to honor Lauren's mother's life, and mark the 1 year anniversary of her death, as that's the County Lauren has heard her line came from. The Republic of Ireland is suffering economically, and it shows in a certain weariness in the people. There is a dearth of people our age...many have left to find work elsewhere, largely in Australia and Canada, apparently.

None the less, the people we met were the kindest I've ever known. Every day, some strangers took us under their wing, talking to us about their town, buying us a drink, giving us a CD of their band, recommending places to visit. Most striking is the time people take; every day we've met people who have easily spent an hour or more just visiting with us.

And, even under tough times, there are certain luxuries the businesses provide as well. Ireland on the whole is not known for service - they don't rely on tips the way U.S. servers do. But in several outdoor cafes we have found blankets across the back of each chair; one pub in a tiny town provided free chicken wings at the half time of a soccer match; and another provided free Bailey's at the end of the meal. So sweet.

10:18 A.M. July 6, 2012

10:18 A.M. July 6, 2012

So Lauren and I walk into the local pub last night, and the first person we meet spent the last three years in Great Falls. Small world. He's from Belfast, the second man I met from Belfast yesterday that left the city because of The Troubles.

The first was Tom, who was staying at our B&B. His father was a Protestant of the Orange Order until he met Tom's mother, a Catholic. It's what they call "reduction by seduction" over here. According to Tom, that refers not only to a reduction in numbers of Protestants, but also to a reduction in some artificial pure Protestant blood line. Tom came of age during The Troubles, and left Belfast because he didn't think he could stay any longer without "getting involved," and he didn't want to do that to his parents. "Everyone I grew up with either died fighting or left...when I go home the only people to visit are in graveyards." Tom left Belfast for West Africa, and after three years ended up in London, where he settled. Along the way he met his partner, David, an Englishman who spent some time in his youth in the states, and was drafted to fight in Vietnam. So, I learned a bit of U.S. history as well, that men visiting the U.S. on Green Cards were drafted into service - amazing.

County Donegal is stunning and varied. Windswept, barren, lush, wild. 

 Glenveagh National Park

 Glenveagh Castle and Gardens

 Glenveagh National Park

Today we are touring the northern coast, hoping to find a traditional music festival that is rumored to be taking place in the village of Dunfanaghy...

8:09 P.M. July 4, 2012

8:09 P.M. July 4, 2012

I must admit, there is something lovely about being out of country on the 4th. Today we made our way North to County Donegal, where Lauren's maternal line is rumored to be from. We're outside the little town of Ramelton (population ~1000), and tonight was the annual "float race" down the river Liemmon - a race with the most ridiculous 4 person crafts possible...very Missoula, very fun. 

Though parts of County Donegal are farther North than Northern Ireland, Donegal was not included in Northern Ireland because it is overwhelmingly Catholic, and Britain did not want a Catholic majority in Northern Ireland. It feels a bit like being in a border town…there are strong feelings just below the surface, but unlike Derry or Belfast, people aren’t declaring their politics with flags or murals so it’s a bit harder to know which way a conversation might go. Last night Lauren and I found ourselves in a pub with some locals, talking about the recent historic handshake (see June 27^th post) between the Queen and McGuinness…while the three folks I was talking to argued about who did or did not see that coming, and whether things were or were not significantly improved, a woman told Lauren with tears in her eyes that “they are still strip searching and beating Republicans in the jail down the road.”

For the next few nights we are staying at a B&B owned by a lovely couple, Mervyn and Claire. He’s English and she’s Belgian...we have yet to talk about what has drawn me here, and I’ll be interested to hear their perspective. In the meantime, we are taking in lots of castles, mystical places, sheep, and –finally- sun.

6:27 P.M. July 1, 2012

6:27 P.M. July 1, 2012

What timing - first we were in Belfast with the Queen; yesterday we were in Dublin for Pride. Here's a sampling:

I said goodbye to Jenae, and welcomed my family for the remaining three weeks. Today we visited the Glencree Centre for Peace and Reconciliation. The actual physical location has quite a history. It has been a barracks, a children's reformatory (with a brutal past), a hostel, and now a peace centre. For many years they brought Northern Ireland families from Protestant and Catholic backgrounds to holiday at the centre at no charge, contingent only that they interact. They have held and facilitated workshops for former combatants and victim's families, providing a neutral space for people to come together. Since the Good Friday Peace Agreement the work in Ireland has dwindled, and they are doing more work internationally. This is the case for a number of organizations; apparently there grew quite a "peace industry" in Ireland, North and South, that has proved unsustainable. Though it was clear from my first two weeks in the North that much work remains, the urgency is gone. Raises many of the questions we in the non-profit sector  grapple with at home: How do we sustain our work? How do we keep our work relevant - especially when things appear to be getting better?

As I am now travelling by car I am getting to experience the Irish countryside. It is stunning. Lauren has quickly adapted to left side of the road driving, on ridiculously narrow roads that appear at times to be more like paved paths. No stripes, no signs, just tar. So far, people in these rural towns seem very far removed from the North. I've talked with a handful of folks who have lived their whole lives here, traveled abroad, and never visited Northern Ireland (less than 3 hours away), "because of the troubles." 

My family has walked down the road to a little pub to watch the Italy-Spain match...time to join them!