Down The Rocky Road – The Transformation Starts

 

It's going to rain

There’s a saying in Ireland: if you can’t see the mountain, it’s raining. If you can see the mountain, it’s going to rain. This is an undeniable truth: in Ireland it does rain a lot, but it’s not torrential like in Spain. It’s a kind of interlude in the dry weather. That doesn’t mean everyone stays indoors; au contraire – it means people adapt. Pub gardens have plenty of shelters, such as awnings, umbrellas, verandas and pergolas. People wear t-shirts but they may have tied the sleeves of their raincoats around their waists.

Chanclas

Livia, however, has taken defiance of the weather to a whole new level: she wears her rubber sandals everywhere. Originally for the beach, these sandals have been in an Irish lake, a French museum, and up a mountain. Wearing a long coat, a dress and some pink chanclas from a shop in Valencia, she trudges around happily and doesn’t want to change. If I were to wear a similar configuration, I would soon find I had a reputation, but she rocks her outfit like a badass princess.

Over the last week or two, I have been building a rockery with help from the children, and as a reward, they like to go out in the car for a drive or a walk. Milda has some strong ideas of where she would like to go: lake, mountain, city… On Wednesday 30 July, we ended up on the eastern bank of Lough Allen, where we stopped at a leisure area and took a stroll out into the water on the piers. The day after, we ended up in Carrick-On-Shannon where we had a walk around the town centre and through the park. And on Friday 1 August, we took a road trip on the Bellavally Gap, a spectacularly bleak mountain highway that cuts through the remote, weathered landscape revealing places up to 50 kilometres away.

Benbeg trailhead 

We stopped at the foot of Benbeg, a local peak covered in forest and free-to-roam sheep, and decided to take a little walk. However, after a short distance we were so enchanted, we just carried on, much to the chagrin of Livia, who absolutely despises any form of exercise. She was, however, in her chanclas, and about to have a tremendous experience that she would never forget.

Fairy waterfall

Many Irish people believe in fairies, and coming to this place, it was very easy to see why: there were streams as wide as Milda’s arm trickling through the rocks and moss, some ending on a drenched clump of heather or grassy overhang before plunging into a mini pool below and continuing their descent to the valley below. Surrounded by mossy banks, thick fir forests and gnarled yew trees, the acoustics were hauntingly silent with a faint echo coming off the hill. A similar kind of sound to being out at night in deep snow.

As we continued our ascent, we came across some round golden sandstone in a dried groove cut by a stream when the rains are heavier. By this time, the children had bought into and invested heavily in the idea that this was the fairies’ domain. For them this golden sediment was fairy money. They were wondering if we would see any – and then we reached the altitude of the midges. Not only were they very insistent on swarming around us, they were also a little biting. The best way to reduce the onslaught of midges is to keep moving, something Tronald McDump the Carrot-faced Caligula was unable to do on his golf courses in Scotland last week.

Views from the Benbeg ascent

We reached the clearing after a good workout and stood there surveying the vast landscape spread out before us. In the distance we could make out lone mountains, jagged outcrops, majestic lakes, and fields as far as the eye could see. I too had been engulfed in the fairy narrative, and on the way down I decided it would be a lovely addition to our rockery to take a stone from this most magical of places, but I felt the need to ask, and so did Dainoris. I found the rock I thought we could take, and we both asked the fairies, who seemed content with our pleadings. Later, though, we came across another rock and upon removal, it left a mossy outline, so we put it back. I took a much smaller stone instead, and the day after we would put both on the rockery.

Fairy country

Saturday 2 August was to be a very important day: it was the day we would receive a visit from the man in charge of the overhaul of our house. He came at 11 in the morning, and we discussed the timeline and pricing for the bathroom and outhouse. About two weeks from that point, we would get the ball rolling. He then gave us the address of some wholesalers where we could find some decent tiles for a very good price, and we had an extremely quick lunch of gnocchi and bacon before we jumped in the car and headed to the tile wholesaler in Longford. Having no dessert often means the children are obliged to behave themselves for fear of missing out on an ice cream or cake later on. A perfect strategy.

We found the place and what a find it was – just a warehouse opening at the end of an industrial estate. Like a lot of things in Ireland, you can find yourself with your mouth agape when you least expect it. We gave him the measurements for the tiles we needed in the two rooms, both floor and walls, and he gave us a price there and then. We ordered them and he said they’d be with us in the next week or two.

We then drove along the scenic road to Athlone, where there is a huge DIY chain with a wide selection of bathrooms. We found virtually everything we needed despite the children making it difficult with their screaming, running and hiding antics. I have found the best way to deal with the situation is to just ignore them and they often start to get bored. When they don’t, a furious diatribe and threats of no dessert usually does the trick.

We got talking to the guy working in the bathrooms section, and we got onto the subject of where we had been living prior to Ireland. He started: he lived a little north of Valencia. I showed amused surprise and rattled off a few suggestions: Massalfassar, Gilet, Puçol? No, Sagunto. He was pretty flabbergasted when we told him we used to live in El Puig, but even more so when he told us he worked in Carrer de la Barraca in Cabanyal, one road over from our office on Carrer de la Reina. How crazy is that?

We spent half an hour agreeing with each other on why we felt we needed to leave Valencia, and went on our way to the car, as we had promised Milda we would go to the lake. It was this moment that I felt vindicated in our choice to extract ourselves from Spain – I can honestly say we had found another person who was immune to Shiny Object Syndrome, and I understood we had chosen the correct path.

The Lough Ree Inn: the place only opened on 1 August

I took a look on the maps app and found a location about seven minutes out of town by Lough Ree called Coosan Point. It was late afternoon by now, but we were adamant that we wanted a reward. And what a place we had stumbled upon: a shiny new pub sat by the water just above a very well-furnished playground and a marina with a rocky promontory and – holy of holies – a Mr Whippy ice cream van. This was like stepping into family dreamland. The pub itself had a host of tables in the beer garden, and a light interior with pool table, restaurant area and coffee corner, overlooking the immense lake itself.

Ducks, boats, fishers

We spent a good couple of hours here and didn’t regret a minute. We took a walk at the water’s edge with some soft ice creams, the children played in the playground for a bit, while we took a break from them, and then we sat on the terrace of the pub with coffees and soft drinks. I think we will return, and pretty soon.

What I have found here in Ireland is a combination of everything from northern Europe that I had missed in my two years in south-eastern Spain: the abundance of watery open spaces and their bridges, green mountains, winding roads, dark tree-covered paths and lanes, bustling villages with small shops, parks, inns, and friendly people contented with their lot. 

But most of all, there is not the cynicism associated with Valencian culture, where you feel the need to consider everyone within ten metres as your competitor. There is a much more open and honest notion of being part of a team than the low-trust societies of the south, where you need to show documentation even to accept a parcel at your door.

The first stage of the garden transformation is complete now: I have to extend it because I bought more plants than we needed, but it looks great. When it’s done, there will also be a pond, a sheltered seating area, and a viewing platform. I’m also planning to start planting the tree grove I would like to create in our meadow – there will be some rocks as a central feature or altar, and sacred trees round it.

All in good time.