Week 5.5: Bleck

Sick.  Pillows. Couch. Juice. Good Book. Blanket. Cough drops. Sunday. Sorry.  

Week 5.3 and Week 5.4 The Western Way in Leenaun

For the next two entries, I'm just going to let the pictures do the talking.  On Friday during the day and Saturday morning we walked on the Western Way.  I will leave the descriptors to you but two things to notice:  One, remember Jack Keats' comment about Irish light?  Check it out in action. And two, this lovely bit from EB White: "Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder."

Week 5.2 Leenaun

Sorry for the delay in entries.  The Cafe was without reasonable internet for a few days and today I've been felled by a cold which started to hit me about 15 minutes after saying "it's remarkable neither of us have fallen ill on this trip."  I really should know better. I also seem to jinx businesses.  I'm sorry I said "it's remarkable Golf Ball World is still in business" because it was out of business the next time we drove by.  Sorry, Golf Ball World.  Anyway. 

Thursday, I reluctantly admit, was my birthday and so we decided to take a short trip somewhere.  We settled on the nearby village of Leenane and the Killary Harbour as it promised spectacular scenery and some nice walks.  Our lovely new friends D and J were very kind to drive us there and back and the drive was absolutely stunning.  At 2:30 we had booked a cruise on the Killary harbour: Ireland's only fjord.  Having never seen a fjord (this will be the year of fjords-- we'll see more later in the spring), I had to plead ignorance and look up what a fjord is: "a long, narrow inlet with steep sides or cliffs, created in a valley carved by glacial activity."  But I bet you knew that.
 I was convinced our new friend D was teasing me when he said that there was a money back guarantee on the cruise that you wouldn't get seasick. But he wasn't.  And it wasn't a problem at all. The cruise itself was gorgeous and I learned a lot about the history, geology, and aquaculture of the area.  It was very cold but wonderful to be out there and see such breathtaking scenery and hear about some pretty heartbreaking history. Up these steep rocky cliffs, you could see deep furrows in the land (called lazy beds) where they attempted to grow potatoes.  When you see these furrows, the inhospitable landscape, and the rocky terrain, you see the determination and the desperation of the times. 
In the evening (which was even colder) we went to two of the pubs-- well, both of the pubs.  One of them, I was intrigued to learn, was where they filmed scenes from the movie The Field.  Much of the film was shot around Leenane.  I remember the film being incredibly moving and heartbreaking: it added some interesting layers to being in this space. It was pretty incredible-- in it's truest sense of the word-- to be here on my birthday.
Below are photos from the cruise of the fjord.  

Week 5.1 Every day it's like a new painting

Today, I woke to an apartment filled with sunshine.  It's sort of like waking up to Christmas morning when you least expect it.  We're taking two days to go to Leenane tomorrow so I knew I needed to get some major work done on the paper that's been not going so well.  I decided to go work in the little cafe next door where the scones are tasty, the decaf lattes perfect, and the ladies kind and lovely.  As I worked, clouds skulked in over the hills but somehow it was still lovely.  As I walked over to the cafe, I decided the only thing to do on the writing project was to keep hammering away at it and something would invariably come through: bad writing can always be revised, blank pages cannot be.  Amazingly-- and I credit this to the tastiness of the scone-- the words started to come and the larger plan of the paper made itself evident and it practically wrote itself.  I love the feeling when the words start to fall into place: as a writer I live for that.  I had iTunes playing and just as I was realizing how nicely things were falling into place, I looked out the window and saw sheep on the hills and birds flying over the bay, and Solas started singing Dougie MacLean's song "This Love Will Carry" on my headphones (here is Dougie singing his song-- I love Dougie.).  A really lovely moment.  
Today's photos are of the area around the Quay.  The first is the view of the hills I saw from the cafe and the others are of the walk back to the Quay from town.  As I was taking these pictures, I wondered how many photos of the same view I could take but then I realized every day, every hour, every minute, it's like a different painting.  I was reminded of what Colm Toibin said of Jack B Yeats' lifework: "He dedicated his life to the most difficult and intractable issue-- the instability of Irish light." The last three photos were taken within minutes of each other.  I see precisely what he means. 

I will leave today's entry with Dougie's words 

These days are golden, they must not waste away
For our time is like that flower, and soon it will decay
And though by storms we're weakened, uncertainty is sure
And like the coming of the dawn, it's ours forevermore.

This love will carry
This love will carry me
I know this love will carry me

Week 4.7 Ordinary Day

Today I got up, realized we were out of milk, went to the small shop for some, had breakfast, did some work on one project that I was quite happy with, did some work on another project that I was less happy with, went to the grocery store to get something for lunch, realized I had 2 hours before my teleconference, went for a run through the Westport House park , came around the corner toward our apartment and pow! There was Croagh Patrick emerging the clouds. It pretty much stopped me in my tracks.  And then I noticed the birds.  And the sheep.  And the smell of peat burning.  And the tides.  I know that there will be similar days in Windsor when I take a mid afternoon exercise break and I know my heart will break just a little, remembering days like today, and wishing I were still here.  It reminded me to stop a minute and be overwhelmed by what was in front of me. 
We've been here 3 weeks or so and on days like today it feels like we've settled in: working, getting groceries, doing laundry.  Often things seem pretty ordinary. But it isn't ordinary at all and I am grateful for reminders that it isn't.
Following up from yesterday, today I noticed some new flowers and the one I saw yesterday was in bloom today. Exciting times in the ground. Today's photos are the view of Croagh Patrick that stopped me, two flowers (the yellow from yesterday and a new one) and a pretty nice way to have a meeting. 

Week 4.6 New Things

Today I wrote a FB status update that said "Heidi wonders if she'll ever have a first day of writing that doesn't end in frustration, anxiety, and an overwhelming sense that this is going nowhere. Or, if she'll ever remember that this happens every time and it's all part of the process. Tomorrow will be better." My first attempts at this new project weren't so wonderful but a bad page is better than a blank page, right?  After getting some work done, we headed into town.  It took only a few steps into the brisk wind to undo my morning's frustrations.  The great thing about walking in the same places almost every day is that you notice all sorts of new things, especially in spring.  Here are just a few of the new and wonderful things I saw today. This is such an exciting time of year.  And here's a great web resource for Irish wildflowers.  You can also see what's blooming now: how cool is that?  

Week 4.5 "Canada, do you like the Irish?" Yes we do!

This morning we got coffee and some of the most beautiful brown bread imaginable from the little cafe next to our apartment.  The few short steps to the cafe this morning made us rethink our the long walk on the Greenway we planned yesterday.  It's still cold here and so it turned into another reading day.

We've been talking to the lovely lady who runs the cafe while we've been here.  As it turns out, she lived in Calgary for many years and so we've been talking-- as both Canadians and Irish seem to do-- about the weather each day.  As she made our coffee she said, "I know Canada is colder but it's not this kind of cold, is it?"  It's not.  I know that there have been discussions about the dry cold/ wet cold suggesting there's no evidence that there's a difference.  I'm still not convinced.  I can't recall being quite so determined to avoid going out in -2oC before.  A reading and writing day it turned out to be and that was very good.  Turning my mind to other things gave me the start to the next project on my list that I need to start tomorrow.  Today I finished the biography of Jane Austen I've been reading (it has Irish content!) and I also read yesterday's Irish Times where there was a small item titled "Canada, do you like the Irish?" It's very rare for us to meet someone who hasn't gone to work in Canada or Australia or who has a child or sibling who has been there, is there now, or thinking about going there.  Given the huge influx of young Irish people coming to Canada, someone wandered around downtown Toronto to ask people about how they felt about Canada being an emigration destination.  Overwhelmingly, people said "we love the Irish!" 

Last night we had a very nice evening out with a nice couple we met a week or two ago.  We had a really lovely night out.  They're kind, funny, caring, and welcoming.  And not just funny, really funny. At one point, they asked over the brilliance of the band, "how can you leave here?" Initially speechless, I said, "I don't know.  But I can't say the 'L' word."  Like my interviewed country people, we love the Irish too.  A lot. 

Week 4.4 Reading and the Written Word

Yesterday was still cold and blustery.  We both went out mid-morning for a run or a walk and the day didn't really lend itself to wandering about.  Plus, we were both in the middle of books we were liking and had the Saturday Irish Times which is a really fantastic paper.  Yesterday was then a reading day.  Earlier in the stay, Dale had read Joseph O'Connor's collection of short stories Where Have You Been? and I started it Friday and finished it yesterday.  I found it to be a really compelling collection of stories-- some stories I liked better than others, of course-- but it has inspired me to read more of his work.  More about that in a minute.

Every time we've moved somewhere, I recall that I immersed myself in the literature of that place as a way of orienting (or, as was the case in moving back to Canada, reorienting myself).  I didn't consciously pick Irish books to read here as a way of doing that.  I was, I thought, reading them because I wanted to read things we couldn't get at home.  As I was reading the O'Connor collection, it came to me-- even though it is painfully and embarrassingly obvious--  that literature can get into the everyday-edness of a place and a time in a way that few other things can.  In one of her short stories, Mary Lavin mentioned something quite moving and poignant on Achill Island that I would have otherwise walked by on Inishturk Island last weekend. 
I know people who don't read fiction: some because they prefer other forms of reading and others because they're not sure that fiction-- something that is made up or not "real"-- can teach them about the world.  I've never quite understood that position though I respect it.  But, in defense of fiction and poetry,  I know that there has been something about Ireland-- its history and its people-- that the two books I've just read this week have been able to teach me that nothing else could have.  I am still mulling precisely what it is that I've learned.  I know that reading about Irish history-- the events, the names, the dates, is something you must know. But reading about how that history still lingers in the hearts and minds of people and their everyday lives-- something less concrete, tangible, knowable, quantifiable-- is also very important.  I think that's where fiction and poetry come in.


Much of what I have learned about the world has come from reading fiction.  It can take you just about anywhere and into minds we could not otherwise begin to comprehend.  I've loved that and it's probably why I can't remember a week in my life where I haven't been reading fiction. And while I sing the praises of fiction, I'm also realizing how being in a place-- talking to people, listening, seeing, hearing, and being still and silent in a place-- is a powerful experience.  I know that Mary Lavin's stories and O'Connor's stories resonate more deeply because I am here.  I am still mulling precisely what that experience entails but every day I continue to gather things and ideas.  I keep gratitude for being here close, like a ring on my finger, touched as a reminder.
One of the fascinating things about Ireland is how vital the arts have been to this country and how vital they continue to be.  I envy that very much.  I happened, last week, to catch this amazing program on RTE called Glaoch - The President's Call which is available on the web.  If you're remotely interested in Irish culture, life, literature, music, and history, this is an amazing show.  The President, Michael D. Higgins, is fascinating: I envy Ireland too having someone like him in a public role.  Given some of the things in Canada right now, how I wish we had someone like him: "A passionate political voice, a poet and writer, academic and statesman, human rights advocate, promoter of inclusive citizenship and champion of creativity within Irish society." But do watch the show:  I rewatched it yesterday.  I think it may only be available online for another week or ten days so do not delay if you're interested. 
There were lots of beautiful moments but I think my favourite was Joseph O'Connor's reading of his poem Airspace (all my biblio superpowers haven't been able to find the version of the poem he read though there is a version in here-- awk to read, sorry.)  Here is but one lovely section: "That the place of truer freedoms/ Is the sky in every mind/ That can never be quenched or conquered." 

Week 4.3 Bus from Galway to Westport

One of the things about staying in one place for an extended period of time is that you get to see the rhythms of the everyday in a place.  You can learn a lot about a place and its people in the grocery store: what do they have a dozen different kinds of (curry sauces) and what do they only have one or two (salad dressing).  You can also learn a lot by taking the bus.  Yesterday was very cold and miserable in Galway and we had our choice of three departure times.  Just as we were thinking we'd head out for a long walk, it started to pour and the wind kicked up so we headed back to Westport at noon.  It's about a two hour ride: bumpy and winding and very pretty.  It was too bumpy to get photos but I started noticing how different each bus stop was.  Some were sort of on the side of the road, almost random.  One had a beautiful old graveyard beside a giant Boots drugstore.  Cold in Westport too, we tucked ourselves into our cozy apartment and had Chinese food delivered. 

Week 4.2 Galway

About a year and a half ago, Dale and I walked along the River Corrib, talking about how much we loved Ireland. "Wouldn't it be great to spend part of our sabbatical here?" one of us suggested. The wheels started turning. Today we walked along the same river, grateful we followed through. Today we picked up some books we needed and revisited a few places we'd been last time we were here. It was the coldest it's been since we arrived and we spent the later part of the afternoon in the Galway City Museum which was very interesting. Here are a few photos from today.  Most are of the Museum and the view of Galway from its windows.   There were some fascinating war posters and exhibits of some locally made things (glass and tweed).  There was also an exhibit of paintings by Jack B Yeats (brother of, yes) and I liked this description of his work by Colm Toibin: "He dedicated his life to the most difficult and intractable issue-- the instability of Irish light."  I also included a pub that we were in before.  While there, a man played a nearly mournful version of "Georgia On My Mind" on an accordion.  I love these odd dissonances.  

Week 4.1 Forgetting and remembering

A short entry today. I started work (thinking mostly) on two new projects which was sort of exciting. Not sure what may come of either but that's okay too. Dale also got lots of work done this week. After work we headed out on a foiled errand (who knew offices closed Weds afternoons?) but carried on into town for a wander. We had a pint at one of our favourite places and then one at a new one, looked into some shops and bought some stamps. All makings of a very ordinary day-- yet, as I've said here before, also very extraordinary too. Being here reminds me that every single moment has something magical about it. Sometimes I just forget to look.

Week 3.7 Walking

Today I did the final edits on the article and it can sit for a while.  I ended up doing a lot of walking and running today.  Went into town twice and did 6 k through Westport House Park and around the Quay.  It was chilly and rainy but a very nice day nonetheless.  The first two are from my Westport House outing today.  Here's a photo of the statue of Grace O'Malley (or Gráinne Ní Mháille) who is called "the Pirate Queen"-- I'm very excited to go to Westport House to learn more about her.  Until then, here's some information on her. It still thrills me to see swans each day and I think, predictably, of Yeats's lines "But now they drift on the still water,/ Mysterious, beautiful" and am grateful to see them.  The other two are from my second walk into town.  You'll notice snow upon Croagh Patrick (still waiting for a good day to climb it) and note the really tasty scone and cafe au lait I had late in the afternoon. 

Week 3.6 Not a very photogenic day, sorry

The downside of deciding to post photos everyday is that there are days when there's not a lot that's terribly interesting. Today, I'm afraid, might be one of those days.  I haven't really been writing about my work since we got here because, well, really, who wants to read about work when there are things like pubs and collie dogs and parades to read about?  There haven't been any pubs or collie dogs or parades to report on today so this will have to do.
I have been working a lot while here and getting lots done between our fantastic outings.  Last week or earlier, I'd been grumbling about getting started on an article on an assigned topic.  It was a tough slog at first because I had to find a way to be interested in this particular topic but each day I summoned one of the best productivity tips I've ever encountered: "sit in your chair and do some work."  I still think that's the best tip ever.  Isabel Allende phrased it a little more poetically: “Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too."  Anyway,  Ms Allende was right and today I finished a full draft of my new article and I'm actually quite happy with what I came up with.  Tomorrow I'll give it another edit and then let it sit for a bit (it's actually not due until July-- sorry brother of mine if I just made you cringe).    
This article is a first for me-- it's the first time I've written anything without a single piece of paper other than a notebook to hand write some notes: all the research I used was from PDFs on my iPad and I had no printed drafts.  So, here are some sort of dull photos.  My paperless work environment, my muse in a package (Orange chocolate on rice cakes!), a passage from the fantastic biography of Jane Austen I've been reading, and the little washer dryer unit that I compared earlier today on FB to the laundry equivalent of an Easy Bake Oven.  Note the 120 minute dryer setting.  Three loads of laundry took all day and half of it is still hanging to dry.  I did manage to fit in a run through Westport House (longer and faster today) but it was raining so no pictures.  I did notice baby sheep in an enclosure-- they're new.  And cute.  I hope, dear reader, that tomorrow will be a more interesting day for you at the Cafe.  I will make it my mission to find something better for you.