A week-end in Connemara

For those who know both the lyrics of Sardou’s song and Ireland, which is the case for 99% of French people for the former, and a small minority of which I am a part for the latter, we have understood that « Les lacs du Connemara » is not a right-wing song, nor a left-wing song for that matter. It’s just a deeply Irish song. But does the reality reflects the picture anchored in the imagination of the French?

Destination Connemara, let’s make it a family trip! So, one foggy evening in February, I take the train with my parents, my sister and my eldest daughter, a complete picnic in the backpack. We are disappointed at Heuston station, which indicates everywhere and in large letters that alcohol is forbidden on all trains. It doesn’t matter, we still have a drink in the thermos cups, it doesn’t show. And we catch up about our respective lives during the two hours and 30 minutes that the trip lasts. The moral of the story is that we travelled the Irish way: drinking on the sly and chatting non-stop!

When we arrive in Galway, we take possession of the Airbnb, located in an old house from the fifteenth century, a first for everyone, it’s magical. Galway is a small town full of pubs and pretty houses, it is really cute, but also very civilized. Lovers of bustling tourism, stay in Galway!

Indeed, as soon as you leave Galway, you also leave civilization as we know it, to enter the Gaeltacht, a purely Gaelic land, « in the time of the Gaels ». Within 30 kilometres, one is being immersed into another universe: past Oughterard, the houses become scarcer, while the sheep and the lakes multiply. It’s as if a road had been dug in the middle of a natural park, made up of peat, water and sheep. « Wind-scorched earth, stone moors », yes totally, the peat resists but some trees have taken the inclination of the wind for eternity. We are in a parallel universe, magic reappears between the indecipherable nature and the stone walls. So are we going « to the rhythm of the seasons at the pace of the horses »? The seasons yes, the horses you have to look for them on the other hand, everyone is motorized in the twenty-first century, even if it is true that in particularly remote roads the sheep take power over human cars.

Contrary to what the song says, Connemara is not a county, but a peninsula, part of County Galway. They are fields and peat bogs as far as the eye can see, bounded by vast hills that form a barrier between the peat and the sky, which is sometimes black and threatening. When it’s not windy, it’s a peaceful land that you can walk for miles, coats and beanies welcome. It is also an essentially wild land, dotted with villages and castles, real little gems here and there.

At St. Brigid’s Gardens, we walk through a lovely landscaped park, which gives visitors a crash course in Celtic culture with the help of shrubs, carved stones and symbols.

In Kylemore, we are all touched by the beautiful love story of the creators of this place, which is a kind of fairytale castle in the middle of nowhere. To have one wife’s body repatriated from Egypt, to install a mausoleum for her in this place designed by the two of us, and to survive her 40 years without taking a successor, that’s love…

In Leenaun, we admire the only fjord in Ireland, it is as if the mountains are pouring into the water, and in the middle a tiny village that still resists the invaders.

In Clifden, we take the opportunity to do a little shopping in this big village with its colourful houses, an islet of civilization in the middle of this magnificent rugged land.

All these little gems have a timeless charm.

During the whole journey, we come across a number of Celtic churches and crosses, a clever syncretism of pagan and Christian cultures; « The day will come, it is near, when the Irish will make peace around the cross. » Yes, that day arrived in 1998, an imperfect peace of course (see the upcoming article Ireland and Brexit), but peace all the same. It is also a magnificent Celtic cross that adorns the tomb of John Hume in Northern Ireland, one of the main architects of this agreement. Religion is not political in Ireland, it is identity-based: one is a Protestant and a loyalist to the crown or a Catholic and an Irish republican, long before being right-wing or left-wing.

In three days, our group is being complimented three times: the first because my sister and I are both left-handed and therefore « blessed » according to the Irish. (Having grown up in France in the 70s, I guarantee you that was not the case. We were still learning to write with an ink pen and we were regularly reprimanded for spilling ink and writing « less well » than the others..) The second is because they think we’re too young to take the tourist shuttle, telling us we’ll be faster on foot. And the third time in a pub, the waitress told us: « oh you are French, we in Connemara love the French who come a lot, thanks to the song! » Three times in one weekend, it’s a real cure for self-esteem! And I’ll pass on the compliments on my hat and my Claddagh ring.

Finally, it’s on the sky road, at the end of the world, that we spend the last night in a B&B, at the end of the cliffs facing the ocean, enjoying a breathtaking view of the coast and the sea, it’s like being a hollywood star.. At the B&B the next morning, we chat a bit with our lovely hostess, Frédérique, who is French. And we ask her what brought her to the end of the world. In fact, she had been running a B&B in France for years, and during a tour of Ireland she discovered Connemara with her husband. It was love at first sight for the region, so much that they cancelled the rest of their trip and looked for a house to buy. This visceral attachment to the land of Ireland is a recurring subject in conversations with the Irish and lovers of Ireland, almost a topos, a real « rest of the soul ». This love for irish earth is still being passed on by the people who work in the hospitality sector: if you choose to sleep in a B&B, you will have advice for visits and activities, with the shining eyes of your host as a bonus! Frédérique prepares a delicious full Irish breakfast with both meaty and vegan options, which is suitable for everyone, with an excellent homemade blueberry tart as an added bonus.

The complete tour of Sky road is only to be recommended for strong stomachs, the view is breathtaking, but so is the narrowness of the two-way road…

During these three days, I was rationed : only twice a day, Sardou’s song on the car radio. I guess the rest of the family doesn’t share my passion. I’m outraged. If I’m rationed on music, I’m less rationed on food… The good thing for French palates is that in Ireland, there is no shortage of cozy, independent cafes serving fresh meals, and the offer is generally suitable for both carnivores and those who don’t eat meat. Tourist spots are particularly well stocked with this kind of cosy cafes and pubs. And we are not depriving ourselves… That’s how, in three days, my father manages to taste the famous Guinness Pie, Fish and Chips, lamb stew, open salmon sandwich, bread and butter pudding as well as Connemara oysters, all made with local producers, he can tick the box of the Irish gastronomy tour! At the same time, my vegan daughter feasts on chickpea stew, vegetable pizza and comforting homemade soup, while my sister gets passionate about buttered soda bread. My sister and I decide that the wine served in the pubs isn’t so bad, while my mother discovers Irish coffee with delight. We even try the respectable local beer, and gulp down the shot of the inimitable Guinness served with oysters, Irish style as it should be! Thanks to my daughter, her tea drinking and her excellent driving, we can enjoy all of this without putting our lives and licenses at risk, it’s better to be vigilant on Connemara roads.

Notwithstanding the approximate geographical references, the landscapes described by Sardou are very real, as are the artifacts. Celtic mythology here surpasses that of its Scottish cousin the « monster of the lakes », but that should not prevent visitors from coming here with their minds and eyes open, music in their ears. Connemara is a parallel universe with its own magic. Take the time to savor it.

(The quotes are an own translation from the french song « les lac du Connemara », Michel Sardou, 1981.)