Visited states

And here are the US states I've visited. . . or at least driven through.

visited 43 states (86%)
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Visited countries

The number of countries I've visited has gone up very little in my two years in Europe. I can only add Iraq and Ireland, the latter being the favored location, of course!

visited 33 states (14.6%)
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Spoils of war again

I walked into work Tuesday morning and saw a soldier walking down the hall in his "Class B" uniform, a more formal uniform than we see around here. Like the only time we see anyone in this uniform is when a soldier has died, because the casualty assistance officer is required to wear it. I immediately thought, "Uh oh. Class B's. I hope no one died."

I went to the base staff meeting a couple of hours later, and the garrison (base) commander said at the very beginning that in case people weren't aware, we'd had a casualty downrange about 24 hours before. "And we need to do everything we can to help Nickayla through this very sad time," he said.

"Nickayla!" I thought. Oh no. Nickayla Myers-Garner is the company commander's wife, probably in her late 20s, smart, funny, energetic. I know her from a number of activities on post -- book club, spouses' club, family readiness group. I don't run in her circles, but from what I know, she is widely known and loved.

It's a tragedy when any soldier dies downrange, but it hits harder when you know a family member. I just met Captain Mark Garner once -- the day I went over to brief his unit before they deployed around January or February. But I've come into contact with Nickayla numerous times over the last two years. I can't begin to imagine what she's going through now that she has lost Mark.

Irish flicks

I watched The Field and The Wind That Shakes the Barley this week. Both are heavy but incredibly moving films.

The Field is about an Irish farmer, Bull McCabe, who goes to great lengths to keep the rented field that his family brought up from stone and has farmed for generations. You'll experience McCabe's pain, pride and passion for the land. It's gut-wrenching at times.

The New York Times review of this 1990 movie is not completely complimentary, but the movie is definitely worth watching. Many rate it as a top Irish film.

If you don't know much or anything about the Black and Tan (English soldiers in Ireland), The Wind That Shakes the Barley will firmly place them in a negative light. It will also show you just how complex Ireland's fight for independence was, and how, like our own civil war, it eventually pitted friend against friend and brother against brother.

This was a painful film to watch. I'd originally intended to watch half late last night and the rest tonight. However, I clung to every last word until the credits rolled. Gripping.

This 2006 movie won the Palme d'Or at Cannes and set a record for highest-grossing Irish indie film ever (per Wikipedia).

Side note about Black and Tan: There's a drink in the UK called a Black and Tan. It's half dark beer and half light beer. If you try to order this in Ireland, you may be refused or you may be told it's called a "half and half" there. It goes back to the history of the Black and Tan soldiers in Ireland. When you see The Wind That Shakes the Barley, you'll understand.

The Gallarus Oratory

A little copy of a painting of Gallarus Oratory that I bought in a gallery in Dingle. See the real thang a few posts down under Spiritual Ireland.

Ireland again

Photo: I'm shooting into a glass window of a tomb to the glass window on the other side of it. The crosses, grass and I are part of the reflection.

Finally, a better summary of the trip:

I flew into Shannon on 3 May. The last time I was there was the 4th or 5th of July, 2008, for a stopover on the way to Iraq. This time around was much more fun.

On the way to Bunratty Heights B&B in the taxi, we passed my friend Reba and her friends who were walking back to their B&B (Ashgrove House, which was two doors down from mine). All 21 of us on the tour were staying at three B&B's right in a row, and we all arrived on May 3 or 4.

I ran back to say hello to Reba and meet the others. This group included two of Reba's friends from Scotland who were ending their honeymoon here. We agreed to meet in the morning to walk to Bunratty Castle and Folk Park.

Now, I'm not going to give you a play-by-play of every single minute of the trip. How boring. But I wanted you to see that from the beginning, I was in the company of friends.

The next morning I had breakfast in my B&B with Katie, another tour member, and we had a great chat while enjoying our first "full Irish," the traditional Irish breakfast with sausage, bacon, fried eggs, and soda bread. Uh oh! I thought I was going to lose weight on this trip due to unappealing food, but I was wrong.

Anyway, Katie and I met about 10 others that morning for the Bunratty Castle walk, then we all had a very late lunch at Durty Nellie's pub. That's the place where I saw the American Red Cross patch hanging on the wall! We shopped then met for dinner a couple of hours later at JP Clarke's, and we ended up with 17 of the 21 tour members. We had all emailed and sent photos to the group, so some were just recognized as they walked in the door to the restaurant. What a perfect first day, and the tour hadn't even started yet.

The tour bus picked us all up the next morning about 9:30, and we were off toward Skibbereen, down south in County Cork. We were advised to switch to Murphy's beer down there as one shouldn't drink Murphy's anywhere except County Cork. We gladly complied.

On the way to Skib, we stopped in Adare for a quick walk to a nearby park for an introductory session. We told each other a bit about ourselves and how we ended up on the trip. Reba, who had been on a johnsmith tour before, knew 8 others of us. Three of us (including me) were on the trip specifically because of Reba.

John Smith (American singer-songwriter leading the tour), Tom Pigott (Irish tour guide) and Paddy Downes (bus driver) also introduced themselves. It was sheer magic the way the three of them ended up together doing these tours, and each of them added an integral part -- not just by job function but personality as well. I can't say enough about these guys.

So we headed on down to Skibbereen and spent three nights there in the West Cork Hotel. Then we went on to Ballyferriter, near Dingle on the Dingle Peninsula, County Kerry, for another three nights. Our final three nights were spent in Doolin, County Clare.

I said in a previous post that we had live music every night. It was part of the tour package. And we didn't leave the hotel each morning until 10 a.m., so we had time to relax, enjoy the music, stay up late, sleep in, whatever we wanted. The tour was run rather democratically, so that if we really wanted more time in one place or less time in another, we could ask for it.

John's an outdoorsy kind of guy, so we spent a lot of time outdoors -- minor hiking, walking along the beach or a trail on a cliff's edge. I think we only went into two indoor museums -- the Blasket Island Heritage Centre and the Skibbereen Heritage Centre, which focused mostly on the famine.

We had talks by several local experts -- Padrig at Charles Fort, Danny on the beach walk in Ballyferriter, PJ Curtis at an ancient church near the Burren, and Terri at Skibbereen Cultural Centre, who talked to us about the famine. We certainly got more out of those talks than we would've just looking around at the sites and reading something.

We also went to the Drombeg Stone Circle, the Gallarus Oratory (see photos in previous post), by boat to Inis Oirr (one of the Aran Islands by Doolin) and the Cliffs of Moher, and a boat ride around the Blasket Islands and Cathedral Rock. We also went to Mizen Head, the southwesternmost point of Ireland and other places, too.

The hotels were wonderful, and I was able to take long, hot baths after coming in from a cold day when I wanted. (This is significant because I don't have a tub in Germany and miss having one.)

The food was excellent -- the pubs had some of the best -- from the full Irish each morning to your basic grilled sandwich special (which was always cheese, tomato, and sometimes onion), fish and chips and smoked salmon. And at lunch and dinner there was typically Guinness, Murphy's, Bulmer's hard cider (apple) or Bulmer's Pear.

The music was excellent, too. John played sparingly -- but he played at the stone circle, at a beach, and then he'd play a few songs here and there when we were at pubs and he was invited to join in. We heard a lot of mostly Irish musicians at places like McDermott's Pub, McGann's Pub, deBarra's Folk Club, John Benny's Pub, and the list goes on.

I've gone on quite enough about the tour. One of the most important elements that I haven't said much about was the people in the group!

I was worried about it before I went -- worried because I don't like traveling in groups and was worried that some of the people would be obnoxious or that I simply couldn't stand being with that many people for that long.

But it was an amazing group of people from MD, IA, WI, TX and FL. Everyone got along and was there for the music as well as the sights. Everyone had fun. Everyone was friendly. I had plenty of time to socialize but also the space to have the alone-time I always crave.

On the last night, we had a dinner in a private room in a restaurant. Then we all sat in a large circle in another private room. John played a few songs. Katie played a song. Tom sang a song. Several of us sang or spoke our made-up verses to Good Night, Irene. Then we went around the room and one-by-one, we talked about our favorite part of the trip, what we liked about it, whatever we wanted to share. I never imagined that I'd actually get teary eyed.

When I travel, I'm certainly not used to having my day planned or to having someone take me everywhere. . . it was kind of nice to be so spoiled with such a great group of people. I don't think I'll ever have another tour experience like this one. And Ireland calls me back even as I write this.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver ~

I found this poem via something I read by Tom Prasada-Rao, a singer-songwriter I know and like. The poem is on a Web site of modern poetry that I plan to explore soon.