9th April 2011: Ireland Day Twenty-Three.

Michelle was happy to stay with our hosts whilst I drove back into Clonmel town centre this morning to try and get in touch with my Irish roots. For some time now I have had some pretty big expectations about how I might feel when I got here and without any sort of agenda, I wanted to soak it all up and see where that led me.

It was good to walk the streets and listen to the chatter of the people and I am constantly surprised by their friendliness. Everyone I pass greets me with a “hello” or at the very least a nod of the head. People are only too willing to take time out of their day to give me directions and then ask me where I’m from and engage in general banter about Australia and in turn Ireland.

I’m looking a little scruffy (as my Mum might say) as I’m well overdue for a haircut and I see that there is a local barber who has a full house. Whenever I find myself in unfamiliar surroundings I have a creed I go by and that is, “do whatever the locals are doing” I guess its not really that original because its very close to “when in Rome….” but it has served me well and I forgive myself for a mild case of plagiarism. Anyway, I decided that this was the place for me to clean myself up.

Sean, who cut my hair, was a character right from the start. He cautiously and very politely asked me if I was from New Zealand or Australia and when I answered Australia, he smiled and did a very funny imitation of Skippy (as in Skippy the Bush Kangaroo) and hopped around the shop (much to the amusement of all the local customers).

This, I believe, is what the Irish call “taking the craic” and I was more than happy for him to do so. Happy because it was very funny and I’m always up for a laugh but also because Ireland at this point in time is not the happiest place to be for the Irish. Whilst waiting for my hair cut I was reading the Irish Times and the lead story was about the loss of 6 Billion Euros in their Pension Funds during the Global Financial Crisis and the fact that they may need to extend their retirement age to 75….75!!!!!!

Sean talked about the loss of their talented and educated youth to countries abroad (Australia was prominent) as employment has become a big issue here and generally about the difficulties of “providing for our families” After talking to Sean, I got a completely different perspective about what is hardship and what is inconvenient, we in Australia are very, very lucky.

Sean wasn’t seeking sympathy, most of what he had to say was mixed with humour and a broad smile but the message was clear…..Ireland is hurting. He didn’t dwell on the difficult stuff for very long, more interested in whether I had caught up with Gaelic Football or Hurling and if we intended to visit several local places of interest, always with a kind word of advice about where we should probably go.

For 10 Euros, I received a very nice haircut (Sean said he had very little to work with and was embarrassed and apologised for the excessive charge) and a first hand education about the Irish way of life. Can’t help but love em.

Walking away from the barbers and laughing at my new best friends quips, I came across a Bookies shop. Gee, I have to at least have a look in here, Grandpa Rhynehart and Grandpa Doyle would have demanded it!! Would you believe, its Grand National day in England (its probably the equivalent of Melbourne Cup day in Melbourne) and I didn’t even realise!!

Ok, how am I going to get a bet on for the race? There’s no marking a box or colouring in squares…….you write your horse’s name, the amount you want to bet and Bobs your uncle. I tentatively approach the counter and handed the slip to the lady and said, “this is my first bet in Ireland….how did I do?” she said, “you did just fine young man…..” young man????!!!! You have to love the Irish.

I picked up some supplies before heading back to Tina and Jims and when I got there they said, “Do you know what’s happening today?” to which I responded, “yes, Grand National day and I’ve had a bet” These people don’t need much to have a celebration and it isn’t long before the champagne is out and a dozen or so hats are handed around and the TV turned on for the big race.

Four kilometres, something like 27 fences and 40 horses all amounts to a rough and tumble affair. My horse, Vic Venturi, hurdles the second fence but cant hurdle the 3 fallen horses in front of it and I’m already out!!!  Oh well, it was nice whilst it lasted.

The afternoon was whittled away with a bit of a country stroll and a quiet Guinness in the local pub and then a pretty early night. Tomorrow’s Sunday and I have to go to church…….hope it doesn’t fall down when I walk in.