Cullan McNamara
Dates: September 11-18, 2017
Destination: Republic of Ireland
Travel Buddy: Kevin McNamara (Dad)
Part One: Day 2 (with updates from Day 6/7)

“Truly, we both learned - we learned about Ireland, its people, and each other. We yelled, we laughed, we teared up, we argued, we drank, but what did we really do? We lived.”

Sept. 13, 2017 - Dublin to Galway

UPDATE

We're in the Springfield Hotel Bar. It's our last night. I have my Smithwick's (pronounced Smitick's,) my dad his Guinness. Smithwick's Irish made Red Ale began in 1710 - Guinness began in 1759. We have our differences my father and I. We fight, we argue, we laugh, and now, I guess we travel. It's easily been the trip of a lifetime, and that's important for us. It would be a lie to say it's been all sunshine and daises, but fathers and sons butt heads. Still, this will be my chosen memory of my father. This trip has defined our relationship. I once told my dad that traveling is only so much about the place, but it's really about the people you meet. I feel like I'm meeting parts of my father for the first time. It's a special experience, one I'll recount to my kids and grand-kids one day.

I'm hoping this trip ignites more like it, and I hope we continue to travel together. P.S., I lost my really nice pen today, and I'm really torn up about it.

ANYWAY

It was day two. We did as Billy had said and adjusted course to Galway, which was about a two hour drive straight west toward the Atlantic Coast. We didn't know what we'd be doing or where we'd stay when we got there, but we had a destination. We woke up fairly early, packed our bags, and departed feeling refreshed.

My father again took the wheel, with a bit more confidence than the previous day. A main freeway composed most of the drive, and he was much more comfortable when on it. Roads were wider, there was actually a shoulder, and we could finally go fast in the Jag. Sad as it is to say, my father and I were both underwhelmed with the vehicle. It was a bit awkward to function, and it was not very responsive under the hood or with its media controls. We certainly wished we'd booked a cheaper automatic rather than mistakenly a manual, which led to this pricey turd. Of course this was the last automatic. Nonetheless, we were mobile. On my travels through Greece and Italy, I relied on public transportation. I always got where I meant to go, but the freedom of the car was a luxury.

Through the countryside, we drove, my eyes glued out the window while my father's were nervously stuck to the road. He glanced out now and then but never for long. Everywhere the eye can see are rolling pastures, herds of sheep and cattle, and stonewalls to separate the land. I relentlessly snapped pictures of what must be commonplace to the locals. Still, it was truly beautiful. We continued like this for quite a while until we arrived in Galway, and my father's driving skills were again put to the test.

"Get in that lane! No, that one! Okay, 100m turn right. Dad! What the hell? I said turn right!"

"Hey! Stop being a little prick. This isn't easy. Shouting isn't helpful. Now, tell me where I'm going."

We went back and forth like this from day one all the way until the end, with few peaceful respites in between. It made the peaceful moments, or funny ones, very special. Don't get me wrong, we were a lot better off the moment we stepped out of that damn Jag. That car was a hellhole, and even my dad couldn't wait to set foot on the ground.

After more choice words between us and driving 'round hopelessly, we landed in a parking garage. It was a nice place near Dock 1 Seafood Bar. We entered the pub to plan the rest of the evening. I think it was around 1 PM at this point. My dad and I ordered drinks - I got a Galway Hooker. He? He got a Guinness, of course. I think his goal was to drink the country dry of the stuff before we left. To be fair, it's just so much better in Ireland. He probably won't drink it again unless he comes back.

I helped him set up WiFi calling, so he could call his wife. He ate seafood. Muscles I think they were. I myself am not a seafood fanatic, but I was happy to see him enjoying it. He stepped outside to call Aida. An important note to make about my father is that he is unrelentingly loud. I don't think it's his fault, but I did step out after a minute to give him a volume check. I returned to get our business straight.

"What would you recommend to see around here?" I asked the woman behind the bar-top.

"Well, what do you like?"

"Haha - I'm a photographer, and my father and I both love beer."

"A few good local places to check out would be Salt House or Rushing Dove, if you don't wanna be too touristic. For sights...."

"Diamond hill has great views," her coworker interjected.

“... we had no clue the feat it was to drive to Connemara National Park from Galway.”

"Ahh, yeah! Where is that again, Jimmy? Connemara?"

"Yeah, Connemara. It's a beautiful place about an hour and a half out."

"Is it south or....?"

"Hell if I know, haha."

"You should head there today then come back this evening. Galway is a night place anyway."

"Will do - thank you both!"

Now, all that was to be sorted was where we'd be staying. I sifted through AirBnB with low hopes of nice accommodation so last minute. Luckily, there was an extremely nice place available right downtown. I'd been trying to get places for $100 or less a night, and I scored again here. Less than $100 for the night, two beds, and a private bathroom. We didn't realize at this point exactly how nice it'd turn out to be. I informed my dad of the newfound information, and he was game for the day trip and approved the booking.

With a plan and a place to stay, we were directed to Penneys to get my father an inexpensive, yet functional jacket. We did just that, got food and groceries, left to check out the Spanish Arch, and then returned to our vehicle to go to Connemara. It turned out Connemara was even more west. Sounds simple enough, right? That's what we thought, but we had no clue the feat it was to drive to Connemara National Park from Galway.

UPDATE

My father and I are currently on the plane back to Chicago from Dublin. I've watched two films, Kong: Skull Island and The Founder, both very entertaining. Because it's such a long flight, I've still found time to write. I'm scanning my memory and notes to recount the most crucial parts of our trip. I truly hope to complete this journal within a week of the conclusion of our adventure. I want to remember this for all time to come. As I write, I'm listening to "Young Heart" by Miki Ratsula. If someone else is reading this, listen to the song, and it'll help you understand the mood as I work.

We're about three hours out now.

ANYWAY

The road to Connemara begins winding through Galway, which becomes residential, then creeps evermore into the country. The road's thin, the shoulder receeds, and stone walls that have vegetation growing over-top closely flank the roadway. Each bus that passed, though kept to their lane well, nearly ran us off the side. Whenever we sneaked by, my father couldn't help but let out a relief of laughter.

"I really wish you were 25, hahaha," he scoffed, eyes still laser focused.

I was sorry I couldn't help drive, but it wasn't fun being on the passenger side either. Our mirror brushed numerous hedges, and I thought more than once we'd lose it to the stone. It got worse. It also got better. We were surely in the countryside now. I think we were in Connemara National Park by this time, and the road became more of a one way. Two cars could squeeze by, but it was alarmingly tight. To make things more interesting, the wire fences and stone walls seemed to do nothing to keep sheep at bay. Sheep lined the sides of the roads - they were damn near suicidal! At some points, they were strolling peacefully through the middle of the lane. That's the worse - here's the better.

Traffic calmed, and we now had an amazing view. Mountains sprang up on either side, lined by lakes and rivers at their bases. Fields flowed upwards, packed with livestock, though none seemed to produce crops. We never did find out exactly why, but we made our educated guesses.

"It looks like something out of The Lord of the Rings! I didn't know they had mountains like this in Ireland," my dad said, clearly stunned.

"I knew they had some great natural beauty here but not like this," I replied.

I snapped pictures left and right. To the left was a lake that had mountains jutting from behind, and on the right were more mountains. It truly is a sight. We continued in amazement and passed a massive looking castle.

"Want to stop at this abbey?" my dad asked.

"Uhh, nah. Not yet. Maybe after? I'd really like to get to Diamond Hill first."

"Sounds good to me! We'll hit it on the way back."

We never did. It closed just before we arrived for the second time. We drove on. The GPS took us to some random spot in the middle of the road, and we were forced to ask for directions from local mechanics. They laughed at our predicament, but they gave us the much needed directions. Only a few kilometers and turns away was Diamond Hill. Soon, a Connemara National Park sign greeted us. We'd arrived.

"This is the easiest space I've pulled into yet!" my dad exclaimed at the, what was at least to us, normal sized parking spot. Ireland is not made for long or wide vehicles. Just don't do it.

It was finally time to see what this Diamond Hill was all about. I realized when we started on the trail that we'd actually seen the large hill on the drive. It seemed more like a small mountain than a large hill, but it's all semantics, I suppose.

"I'm not doing that! How long is that?" my dad said in his manner.

"The map says about three hours total. We won't have time for all of it, but it's only a few kilometers - let's go!"

"No way - I'll wait for you here."

"Dad, I guarantee you'll regret this if I don't drag your ass up there. Now, come on! We'll take breaks or whatever, but we're getting a good view before we turn back."

My dad agreed. The two of us moved at a decent pace up the trail, stopping for breaks and photos. To the right was a field with horses, cows, and goats. Up ahead was the rocky Diamond Hill. It looked imposing but achievable. Walk, break, photos, repeat. This cycle continued until my dad had enough. This was about 25 minutes in.

"Alright, seriously, I'm done. I'm dyin' here."

"Let's just get up this last hill - c'mon."

"I know the deal - we'll go up this hill, then there'll be another hill, and another."

"Just this bit for me, please," I pleaded.

"Fine. Last one."

We got over the hill, and it actually flattened out over a bog with a nice wooden-plank walkway for some distance.

"Well, shit. Okay - let's keep going, haha," he said.

For about another 10 minutes, we hiked until reaching an obvious point of compromise. A giant stone was placed at the end of the wooden path, just before it turns back to rock and heads upwards. We decided he could relax here then head back - I'd continue and meet him at the car by six o'clock. It was then 5:19 PM. We turned back to see the view before I took off.

"Beautiful isn't it? Did it pay off?"

"Yeah - you were right, son. This is very cool."

We could see for miles in all directions. Mountain ranges were off to the right, with emerald pastures at their bases, and there was a bay off to the left. One mountain (or large hill) stood beside the bay. It was truly stunning, and I'd strongly recommend making the trip if you're ever in Ireland.

"Okay - go ahead. I'll meet you back at the car. Be careful!"

"I will," I said handing him my jacket.

View from Diamond Hill, Connemara National Park, IR

With my camera strap over my head and right arm, I took to the races. I bounded this way and that, refreshed at the chance to get in some mountain-running. I figured I could only head up until 5:40, then I'd have to turn back. Thankfully, time moves slower when you hike.

I'd made it quite far in 16 minutes - I actually didn't realize I'd almost made it to the top until my dad said he'd watched me, and he relayed my highest location on the hill. I hate not summiting, but we had time to keep. With my last five minutes, I set up my camera on some rocks as I sat on the edge of a cliff and took self-portraits. I placed myself on the right third so that the landscape was in clear view on the left two-thirds of the photo. Thanks to the 10 second timer, I'd click the shutter button and rush to my spot. I took four photos before it was 5:39, and I knew I had to pack up and go. Again, I took off running down the slick rock.

I made it back to my father in only eight minutes. I discovered he'd watched from the stone to see if I made it to the top. He actually began walking back because he thought he saw me up there. I wasn't, but I was a lot closer than I thought. We concluded the walk back together feeling successful. In one hour and 40 minutes, we were back in Galway.

In my account, I forgot one very singular event. When we arrived on part of N69, I think it was, we saw the end of a bright, shimmering rainbow. It shone brighter than the sun, and it was so close, just at the base of a mountain. We could clearly make out each individual color beam, and we immediately pulled off to capture photos. We stared in awe for probably five minutes until it began to recede in front of our very eyes. We saw the end leave the ground until it slowly vanished to its highest visible point. Now, that was strange. When in Ireland.

UPDATE

Less than 35 minutes, and we'll be in Chicago, then we have our long drive back. It's surreal to say the least. A lifelong dream of traveling to Ireland with my father came to fruition, and now... it's come to an end. It didn't move too quickly or ever drag along, and I'll always look back on this with fondness. I think it was eye-opening for my father. He never truly experienced or immersed himself in a different culture.

We visited landmarks, local pubs, and relied on conversation with locals to determine the course of our journey. That's a pretty gutsy way to travel. We never knew where we'd end up or if we'd have a bed to sleep in, but in the end, it truly went better than I could've previously believed. He learned about their way of life, even if he didn't always understand it. I think the tipping, or often lack-thereof, is what he really couldn't fathom. He had conversations about it almost nightly.

Truly, we both learned - we learned about Ireland, its people, and each other. We yelled, we laughed, we teared up, we argued, we drank, but what did we really do? We lived.

The world has so much to offer - please don't miss it.

ANYWAY

Back in Galway. Next step: drag our luggage to the AirBnB. We again parked in the same garage and lugged our belongings about a 15-minute walk to Prospect Hill Road. Upon arrival, I frantically called the host to get inside. Another lady answered, her assistant maybe, and then our host appeared at the front door. She gave us a tour and our keys, then she departed as swiftly as she came. The place was like a hotel. There was a main floor with a great kitchen and a common room to relax in. We stayed on the second floor in room #4. It was spacious and fit our every need. My dad couldn’t have been more pleased.

“Ahh,” he said as he flattened out upon his bed. “You one-upped yourself tonight, son.”

"Glad to hear it! A private bathroom makes all the difference."

"It really does. Luis's was great, but I felt bad for the guy every time I went in there!"

I laughed at his expense. We both relaxed for a bit and caught up with our phones. We'd definitely become WiFi crazy when given the chance. After some time, I jumped in the shower. I hadn't that morning and was in desperate need for one.

We regrouped then made our plan for the night. We left with our aim set toward one of the local pubs we were told about. This took us through the town center passed a lively assortment of people and establishments. We made it to the West End in about 15 or 20 minutes. My father and I entered The Salt House, which was a nice enough pub, but we quickly realized there was no ordering food here. We then went to the Rushing Dove. That was a bar and dance club - no food.

"What do you wanna do? I thought you wanted food."

"I do - I do. Let's go to that Vinnie's place between here and The Salt House. At least it's something."

That's what we did. It was sort of like a small fast-food, cheap burger joint. It ended up that we both got a little something to eat. My dad wasn't about to pass up the opportunity for some greasy food. To be fair, he wasn't on his diet here. He'd been killing it back home, but this was his time to not worry about any of that.

"Well, we gotta find something that'll work for both of us. That last place is a young man's game - maybe we can try that place we passed... Monroe's I think," my father suggested.

“It was truly a feast for the senses.”

"Sure - any place with beer works for me."

We made the short walk and entered into a world we hadn't expected. The full name is Monroe's Live, and on that night, well... that night was Latin night. The bar and seating areas were completely packed, but we managed to snag two spots at the end of the bar opposite the dance floor. We watched in awe at the absolutely amazing dancing by everyone on the floor. There were probably close to 10 pairs, others dancing around them. It was actually beautiful to watch. So, we admired it. We ordered beers, sat at the bar, listened to the live music, and watched the art of dance. The band was on a stage at the back of the bar. Behind the band was a screen that streamed live photos taken in the bar that night. There were also music videos playing, some even by that band. It was truly a feast for the senses.

"Some of them have to be plants, right? I mean, they're too good. This is insane."

"Hahaha, yeah - this is wild. It's an awesome place," my father said. He clearly enjoyed the scene.

I thought about it, then I remembered Billy saying there was a lot of Spanish influence in Galway historically. Plus, I'd later learn they have a ton of English language students that come from all over, especially Latin America. This only possibly explained the overtly natural skill.

Our young bartender was so busy that he could never stay long to chat, which we'd become accustomed to. My father and I still tried to spark conversation. Just pretend there are awkward pauses where he leaves to attend to his other numerous patrons.

UPDATE

Following through is the hardest part. My dad would always say this when it came to a golf swing or a homework assignment or a project at work. Finishing what you start is tough, but you don't start something intending to walk away at 50% completion. Sadly, for me, I'm less than 50% done recording this trip. It'd be easier to never pick up this journal again and have an incomplete account of my adventures with my father, but it'd be hard to forgive myself for that. I've always wanted to be a travel writer, and now, I'm so close and can't follow through.

The journal is maybe 30% finished, but when I look at all the factors, this is how it goes. Trip to Ireland? Check. 50% there. Journal purchased? Check - 60% there. Begin writing? 75% there. It's the last stretch now, the final 25%... the follow through. So, as I sit at the Starbucks in Van Buren, I know I have to finish this journal. I also have a wedding video edit to start. It's Thursday, and they want it by Saturday. But, I'll save that for another journal... maybe.

ANYWAY

“In the one percent of the world, mate. Yeah, top one percent. Fourth here, though! It’s the fourth best in Galway...”

"So, there's a university here?"

"Yeah, man. Just down the road."

"How far?"

"About a 10-minute walk."

"How do you get there? I'm thinking about visiting."

He gave me an absurdly long answer that I hadn't actually expected, finishing with,"... and if you still can't find it, get a map."

"How is the uni?"

"In the one percent of the world, mate. Yeah, top one percent. Fourth here, though! It's the fourth best in Galway behind...." Admittedly, I don't remember the names or the order, but the National University of Ireland Galway (NUIG) was fourth.

"Are you a student there?"

"Oh, yeah. It's real fun, mate. Real fun."

A young woman then came up to my right side, started groping my arm, and whispered her name in my ear. Being that I have a girlfriend, I just awkwardly replied with my own and then stayed silent. She soon drunkenly moved to the next poor lad.

"You don't get that at home do ya, mate?" Haha!" the young bartender laughed.

My dad was absent during this conversation on account of parting the crowd toward the restroom. When he returned, he had almost the exact same talk with the barman. It only lasted a minute, then we were left alone for quite some time.

Our final encounter came in the form of a middle-aged man. He'd been sort of hunched in the corner drinking, struggling to get the bartenders' attention whenever he needed another.

He was bald, not too out of shape for his age, and his eyes were glossy. It was as if he was in an eternal stupor. He jumped a chair closer and leaned in to my right ear.

"D'ya box, lad?"

"What?" I yelled, his accent being the toughest I'd yet encountered.

"Do ya box!"

"No - I took classes once at uni, but...."

“I came back to find my dad still in Bernie’s conversational clutches.”

"What sports d'ya enjoy?"

"I like to watch American football, hockey, tennis...."

"No! What d'ya like ta play?"

"Oh, I played American football, and I wrestled."

"Oi! A wrestler? I thought ya looked tough! They ain't that different, the two! In'on ya grapple on the ground, the other on your feet!"

It was getting harder and harder to understand him over the music. I felt like I was missing letters, then I'd lose words and whole sentences. His accent was thick, the music was loud, and we'd both been drinking.

"If ya box here, don't go to classes! Go to a boxing club. A club, it's the only real way to learn, lad. I boxed ma 'ole life, and I only was taught in clubs!"

This went on for an unprecedented amount of time until my dad interjected. When he did, I took off toward the restroom. I came back to find my dad still in Bernie's conversational clutches. Bernie, that was his name. We all know those people, though. They start conversations you never wanted to have, and then they don't let you out of them unless your life depends on it. He was one of those people.

We eventually escaped out into the night air. It was time to hit the bed.

"You know, you can go out still, son."

"I know, but I want to walk back with you at least. Plus, we only have one key, hahaha."

"Oh, that's right. Well, let's grab some snacks on the way back, then you can take off again."

We did just that. But, when I did go back out, I was going upstream against a sea of young people heading away from the bars. They all went to McDonald's and Supermac's to defend against the probably inevitable hangover. I wondered when the bars closed here - it was around 1:20 after all.

I arrived at The Quays to find the party still going, though beginning to fade. I walked into the bar, purchased a Smithwick's, and I stood at the top of some stairs to watch the band on the opposite balcony. Within seconds, and I mean literal seconds, a random girl came up to me.

"Are you American?" she quickly asked.

"Well, yeah. How'd you know?"

"Your quarter-zip. It's real Polo. I can tell by the logo. They wear the fake shit here. It doesn't have the horse - it's a giraffe or something. What's your name?"

"Cullan, and yours?"

She responded with a very Irish sounding name that I couldn't pronounce then or translate into writing later. Turns out, she's from Seattle and is very rich. That was apparent from her knowledge of the Polo symbol from 20 yards away. Considering I knew no one, I spoke to her for a few minutes and found out she goes to NUIG. The conversation ended abruptly after I said I got my pullover from T.J Maxx. She did say one thing before she left, though.

"Supermac's is incredible, like way better than McDonald's. If I had to choose between Supermac's and sex... I'd choose Supermac's, and I've had a lot of sex."

I was slightly stunned she'd just said that, but it was at least funny. She quickly moved to some other guy, I finished my beer, and I strolled back through town to our AirBnB to finally get some rest. What a crazy day.

HIGHLIGHTS

Places Visited:
Day Two

Dock 1 Seafood Bar
Penneys
The Spanish Arch
Downtown Galway
Connemara National Park
Diamond Hill
The Salt House
Rushing Dove
Vinnie's
Monroe's Live
The Quay's

Day Six

Springfield Hotel

Stats

20,492 Steps
117 Floors
9.83 Miles
209 Active Minutes

Travel Journal #1: Ireland (Part Two)

Cullan McNamara Film & Photo

Travel Journal #1: Ireland (Part Two)

Travel Journal #1: Ireland (Part Three)

Travel Journal #1: Ireland (Part One)

Cullan McNamara Film & Photo