Ireland/Day 5 and 3/4

Like the Hogwarts Express, this day is full of twists and turns. Having had a full day in the country, we're now headed for the city of Galway, where most of us are happy to leave the Muggle-headed ignominy of our Hill performance - or lack thereof - behind. Oh look, there's Eyre Square (who could that have been walking her bike up the Hill?)!

And there's Lynch's Castle (wasn't me)!

Lynch's Castle is said to be where the term (if not the practice, which surely predates it) of "lynching" came from. We are told that James Lynch, the Mayor of Galway, hung his own son for murdering someone who was of vital economic interest to the town. There is an alternate version from a Lynch descendent*, but no one disputes the lynching itself.

We wander around the main shopping drag.

And encounter this multi-instrumentalist. 

Sure he's there to make a buck off tourists like us - but how many people do you know who can play one of these?

Didgeridoos. Two of 'em. And they're mic'd. After all the work it takes to play them, it would be a shame for them not to be heard. I'm also happy to see Galway also has their own version of Citibikes.

We are advised helpfully about restaurants and pubs to crawl to - and those of us who do, report back the next morning on serendipitous music and dance performances I am so sorry to have missed. But jetlag is still a factor in my sleep; I am forced to do an early crawl home.
                                                           - - -
The following morning, we bus to Rossaveel for the ferry to the Aran Islands. Having crossed the English Channel by ferry before, I'm more than a little apprehensive, and recall a banner I saw the day before at the Mall:

In Ireland, that would refer to a sport - like this:

But what if it's more like this?

And what if it's us? Will we be hurling big chunks? I am not comforted by the sight of these on the ferry as we board. 

But as we depart Galway Bay...

The water is calm, the air is fresh. There will be no hurling, Irish or otherwise.

We're staying on the largest and most populous of the three Islands, Inishmore (8mi by 2mi). Everyone there speaks Irish; all signs in Irish:

We leave our bikes behind and rent others on arrival. But we don't get to choose them; bikes have been set aside for us, and by the time I get there, the few road bikes there were, are taken. Damn! I end up with a mountain bike, my worst nightmare. It has shocks and fat tires, it weighs a ton - it feels like a tank; I'll never be nimble on this thing. It's only later when I find myself gliding over rocks and gravel, that I find out the advantages of riding a tank. Suddenly I'm fearless; It's totally freeing. Where was this on the Katy Trail? After one ride, I'm already pining for a mountain bike of my own at home (and trying to figure out how to shoe-horn it into the hallway).

Meanwhile, our B&B is not ready to take us, so we tool around the harbor getting used to our new rides. 

And gather for a brief talk on the history of the Islands, whose resourceful residents made it through the Great Famine by fishing - and growing their potatoes in seaweed. The Islands themselves remained virtually untouched by the outside world until the 1960s.

Historically, control of the Aran Islands has meant control of the West Coast of Ireland, and many people have tried to possess them (there's that pesky Cromwell again). 

Today, the place is more peacefully possessed by day trippers. We're dodging tour buses right and left. 

And struggling to hear our guides over the din of tour-related aircraft. So when Catherine remarks about how peaceful it is here, I think she must be joking. But she tells us to disregard the madness of the port whose crowds are temporary. Where we're staying she says, the island will be ours (and she's right). 

This is a beauty that defies description. It is beyond magical (yes, I will post footage later). We are encouraged to explore on our own. 

Nothing's over 5 miles away. There are only about 800 inhabitants. And there are just two roads - the High Road, and the Low Road. So our guides can take a little time off from navigating without fear of the rest of us getting lost.

We get a quick lesson in Irish language basics (phonetic spellings below):

Guramahagud- thank you
Sloncha - cheers
Slon - Good bye
Adiagwich - hello

You got that? Good. Time for lunch, and exploring the unique island that is Inishmore.

Now say thank you (if you can).

*http://davidlansing.com/a-lynching-in-galway