Dawn Xiana Moon: Intelligent folk pop with influences from jazz and traditional Chinese music. From Chicago.

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Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Monasterboice, Drogheda, and Derry

"Do we have any Australians?" Cheers. "Do we have any Canadians?" Cheers. "New Zealand? Germany? Israel?" Cheers for each. And then: "Americans?" Muted acknowledgment. Apparently all of us have traveled enough to be a little afraid of Americans' reputation when traveling overseas. But on this tour, the Americans were quiet and it was a handful of Australian girls who won the prize for being loud and uninformed (and for giving too much detail about their backpacking exploits).

Celtic Cross at Monasterboice

Aussies and Kiwis dominated our bus of 55 as we left Dublin to explore Northern Ireland - and by the end of three days, we'd made lots of new friends. Our first stop was Drogheda and St. Peter's Church, which houses the head of St. Oliver Plunkett. I'm not kidding. Our tour guide thought we should see the 400-year-old mummified head-turned-relic and take photos. I passed on the photos and wondered if the parishioners, who were at the church for mass, were annoyed at the large group of tourists that had descended upon them. The church itself is beautiful - everywhere you look in Ireland, you stumble into gorgeous, centuries-old cathedrals - and when we weren't wandering around looking at heads in the middle of a service, the town was an interesting stop for an hour. We grabbed fresh scones and wandered over to St. Laurence Gate, which, according to the plaque nearby, is the oldest barbican still standing.

Nearby Monasterboice is home to three high Celtic crosses, originally used by monks to tell Bible stories, a round tower, two churches, and a Celtic cemetery that's still being used - the newest grave I saw was placed in the last five years.

Free Derry

From there we headed to Derry, our stop for the night. While our guide/bus driver was primarily useful for transportation and jokes, our guide for the walking tour of Derry was intense and clearly wanted to make the most of the opportunity to give his perspective on the Troubles. The name of the town itself is a statement of allegiance - those loyal to England, who controlled the town until the last 30 years or so, call the town Londonderry, while the majority Catholic population (and most of Ireland) call the town Derry. Newscasters dubbed the town Slash City since they usually say "Derry/Londonderry" as to seem neutral.

According to our guide, who was born and raised in Derry, the conflict was not about religion - it was about Irish civil rights and whether the town would be controlled by the Irish or the English. Derry is the site of Bloody Sunday, where 27 unarmed civilians were shot by British armed forces - the British are still investigating the incident, and the families of the 13 (or 14, if you count the man who died later from related injuries) are still seeking justice. There's a memorial to those who died on that day, and it lists their ages - many of those shot were only 17 years old.

After that sobering look at history, we lightened things up with dinner at Ice Wharf, where a drunk Irishman approached our eight-person table asking, "Are any of you Americans?" Carolyn and I didn't say a word, but the Australians and New Zealanders who made up the rest of the table all pointed at us. Outed! It turned out that he had a pint of Guinness for "the Americans," which he ended up leaving with me. Apparently we're loved after all.

After dinner, we made our way over to Peadar O'Donnells, which made the best night we've had in Ireland so far. A trio of musicians (bodhran/vocals, flutes, and acoustic guitar) played fantastic sets of traditional music, and the locals danced (and sometimes sang) with them. Pub musicians here tend to be fairly casual - instead of standing on a stage, they often sit down around a table with a pint of beer. I found out afterward at Derry is apparently known for music, and with good reason. Even though I was exhausted - every night I'd gotten less than six hours of sleep and I essentially pulled an all-nighter with the flight to Dublin because of the time change and staying awake through the day - I didn't leave until the musicians stopped playing and closed out the bar.

Labels: Derry, Ireland, musicians, travel

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