Banoffee = Banana + Toffee

Today was a simple perfect day. It was our last day with a car so we decided to drive in a direction we hadn’t yet been: east and then south around Galway Bay. The car was due back midafternoon so we actually only made one stop in our drive and that was in Kinvara. We saw a sign just before town that we don’t see every day. It said “Drive Carefully—Castle Ahead” so we drove carefully and visited Dunguaire Castle, named for Guaire, the King of Connaught who died in 662 A.D. ^th century, the castle welcomed notable Irish literary figures to come and associate and share their work. In that tradition, the castle continues to host medieval banquets in the evening and at those banquets anachronistic Irish poetry is read. Alas, we would have to return the car before such a banquet could be attended.

The castle was not built until 1520 and is not a military castle, but a tower house or fortified residence that remained in use as a residence until the mid-1960s. In the early 20

We continued down the road, intending to drive on a bit, but the village of Kinvara was just around the bend. While it seems every town here is charming, this one had a certain atmosphere and a Friday’s farmer’s market so we stopped. The first tent at the top of Main Street sold gooseberries and Wexford strawberries. Moving on from there were tents with kelp-based bath salts, homemade lanolin soaps, kale, pea pods as long as my forearm, teas and sweets. We decided quickly we would forgo driving further and settle in. There was a trio of musicians playing—the Fair Weather Band, the singer of which mentioned that this was the single best day of the year so their name didn’t have the same ironic appeal it usually does. We choose a Sri Lankan tent from which to get lunch and while the woman was making our curry and pancakes, Chris asked a man where he had gotten his beer. There was a bit of a laugh and the man told him he had gotten it from the pub. Here, you can walk right out of the pub with your beer and drink it wherever else; please return the glass. Chris went in for a shandy—an idea to which bottled American beers do not do proper justice. In Ireland, a shandy is a beer with lemon soda poured right in. I don’t know how popular they are in the winter, but on a day like today it is totally refreshing. 

Returning to Galway was a pleasant drive, although on the way back we had to find the Enterprise office which, now that we’ve done it, I have no idea how Chris found it the first time when he was there by himself earlier this week. It’s in an industrial park and you can’t see it from the frontage road and it’s in a location that makes you believe you’re not in the right place the entire time until you pull up in front of it. We negotiated a fair-ish refund for the troubles we had with our rental and the whacky day Chris spent at the mechanic and Colin and Padraig brought us back to the Spanish Arch in the Latin Quarter. Along the way, they regaled us with their stories about being pizza delivery guys in a city with no street signs, making us feel better about how difficult it was for us initially to find our apartment. The Irish language is confusing and, according to Chris who took two weeks’ worth of classes in it, difficult to learn because there are no pronunciation rules. Padraig explained that his name is pronounced Porrig and the Irish think it’s funny that Padraig Harrington is called “Patrick” in international golf coverage. We asked them if there was a minimum wage in Ireland and there is. At one point recently, it was lowered, but had to be raised again for the politicians to be re-elected. 

There was a pottery fair in the plaza along the quay when we got back to our neighborhood which was fun to window shop our way through. When we headed out this evening for dinner, we had a destination in mind. Last night, we passed a tiny three-booth restaurant named The Pie Maker and we wanted to return there for a meal. It was one of the better meals we’ve had here. Perhaps obviously, they make pies. Chris had a pie with chorizo, mozzarella and pesto and I had one with chicken and mushroom and both were delicious. They came with salad with tomato and beets and it was a treat to have something other than carrots and cabbage. They also have sweet pies and we had a banoffee pie for dessert which was terrific. Again, everyone should go to The Pie Maker.  After dinner, we walked in and out of shops and then along the quay, where it seemed all of Ireland had come to drink their beers and ciders in the sunshine. I’m sure it’s always a busy spot on a Friday evening, but something about this weather is calling everyone out of doors (we’ve seen a lot of badly sunburnt red heads in the last few days) and something about this place makes it seem like everyone is relaxed and having fun. I like it here.  

Just A Wee Castle

Eugene and Anne had our breakfast ready for us when we arrived to the dining room this morning, traditional Irish: eggs and sausage and another kind of sausage and ham and tomato and toast and brown bread and cereal and juice, tea and coffee and enough of everything to make you think that the traditional must be to take a nap right after the morning meal. Anne looked over Chris's shoulder as he looked over the map of Donegal and suggested some routes for us to take today, including the Atlantic Coast drive and a stop at a wee castle.

We headed out mid morning, Chris again behind the wheel and again keeping us safe, and went north from Letterkenny towards Rathmelton where we made our first stop. It's a tiny river town and there's a river walk we enjoyed. Archeological evidence shows that there have been settlements there since the early stone age and in the 12th century it became the stronghold of the O'Donnells, the ruling clan of Donegal. There's a lot of lore about castles and rebellions and such, but now it's sleepy and sweet.

We continued north on R245 to Carickart, a holiday town, where we stopped again and headed to the public garden. Signs for it took us to the shore where a few families romped in the water and for those who wanted only to sit and enjoy the vista there was a landscaped rose garden with benches. There are birds everywhere, and today we saw dozens of oyster catchers at the shore, which are black, white and blue and have very long beaks with which to... catch oysters. In the distance, we could see the big top tent from the traveling circus which had come to town and it all made it hard to remember the century. People say hello and comment on the weather and then--when they hear our accents--stop and chat and encourage us to see what they love about this place. In Carrickart, we spoke with a woman with two small children in tow, both with ice cream treats they held up high to show me, who had been in Chicago six years ago and was impressed by how clean it was. Like Anne, she said we couldn't miss the Atlantic Coast drive and particularly not on a day as fine as today. We took her advice and our leave.

The Atlantic Coast drive is breathtaking. It is undeniably lovely. There are houses scattered through the hills. Cows and sheep graze. Donkeys stand around. There are sprays of fuschia and lemon yellow flowers at the roadside. There is crag coast which you might expect, and there are sand beaches which you might not. It feels like the edge of the world. And the road is a single lane that the Irish consider a two-way drive, so at times it also feels like the end of the world.

We stopped again near the village of Creeslough, on Sheep Haven Bay, to visit Doe Castle—just a wee castle that Anne told us about. This stronghold of the MacSweeney clan dates from the mid-16^th century and also served as a refuge for ship wrecked sailors from the Spanish Armada in 1588. It’s surrounded by water on three sides and was protected by a moat on the fourth side when it was in use. Now it sits at the end of a lane and the neighbor next door has sheep grazing in a field leading up to it, which is scenic to say the least.

Chris occasionally shows his Smith and today he was all about stopping for brown signs, which he remembers hopping out of the family camper for as a kid when his parents hoped there would be something educational and free if they followed the arrows. So we followed the brown signs to the Ards Pier, a Franciscan friary that turned out to be not too much of anything. It is in the Ards Forest Park and may have been more heavily populated due to the public washrooms than due to any sort of holiness. We kept on to Dunfanaghy, a little town that reminded me of Saugatuck, Michigan for its charm and art galleries, and had lunch there at a restaurant called An Christin. At the next table, the family was speaking a mixture of English and Irish so I only understood a third of what they said, but I did catch it when a young girl said, “I say tom-a-to and you say tom-ah-to” to which an older gentleman at the table said, “You say rubbish and I say Limerick” which got a laugh all round. After lunch, we walked in and out of shops and discovered it was a surfing town, as much as anything. At the water’s edge was a surf shop, with a surfer playing his guitar out front waiting to offer lessons. We saw a number of wet suit stores; I imagine it isn’t often warm enough in the North Atlantic to surf in shorts.

We returned to Letterkenny from Dunfanaghy and had naps before going out for dinner. I haven’t seen too many of the foods we think of at home as traditionally Irish—other than fish and chips—at the restaurants we’ve been in to eat or look at menus. Perhaps corned beef is an American construct? And shepherd’s pie, too? Every single town we have stopped in has at least one “Oriental” restaurant and an Indian one, so we went to an Indian place called ChilliShaker this evening for biryani and matar paneer, which was good but bland by Hema’s standards.

We’re back at the B&B now and most recently Chris has been practicing his fiddling but soon we have to decide whether tomorrow we will drive another section of the coast or head into Northern Ireland to visit Derry.