Ballyshannon, Ireland

We have arrived in Ballyshannon, in the Republic of Ireland, to attend the annual Ballyshannon Folk Festival, in addition to touring during the day.


“Did you order sunlight today?”
“His account is overdue, so he didn’t get it.”
(That’s a bit of dialogue I just overheard.)

Last night, we had dinner at the Horse’s Head, a pub (not to be confused with the horse’s other end), and I ordered one half pint of Guinness. I sipped very slowly, had a fun conversation, which is a good idea, since it took forever for our table to be served. After that big lunch at Kells, I wasn’t hungry when we showed up, so I just ordered a side dish of steamed vegetables—potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli, but I was hungry by the time it arrived.

Afterwards, we went straight to the Ballyshannon Folk Fest, at the Abbey Centre, and saw three bands—North Clegg (and now I want all their CDs!) Joe Burke and Anne Conroy, and Altan (I’m much more familiar with Altan—they’re on the radio frequently).

I bought the Ballyshannon poster and the Altan CD. North Clegg didn’t bring CDs, but you can order them from their website (or perhaps get them at the Trad Irish music store at Temple Bar).

The tour group is spread between three Bed and Breakfasts, and I’m at the one that’s a one-mile walk away. So we walked to it last night, after the fest, and the weather was lovely and not raining. Chilly, but when you’re walking this is a good thing.

When we came to the Bed and Breakfast and crossed the street, I was really impressed—it looked like a big white mansion with a slightly winding drive flanked by landscaping. We came in through the front door, and I have room #2, which is in the front of the ground floor and has a big bay window, a very soft double bed, a bathroom (really, there’s a shower stall rather than a tub), tea things and even chocolate biscuits with the tea. It’s quite luxurious.

We’re on the tour bus, and we just passed a couple of donkeys in a field, grazing. Quite a few stone walls in this area too—we’re outside of Ballyshannon in County Donegal.

Earlier, while in town, we passed a pack of about five dogs, mostly black, and one was black and white. Border collie. That’s apparently a typical coloring. Someone on the bus said, “Maybe they’re looking for sheep.” And another, I think Phil, said, “They can herd tourists.”
Yesterday, I saw sheep on the bank ravenously tearing into grass, and I was tempted to yell, “Hey, watch out! Leave the roots!”

Dunkineeley. Town we drove through.

Peat—stacked in long piles, and also leaning in big plastic bags.
Places where you see black “earth” on the side of ridges forming a [_] (that’s an upside-down version of the shape I drew in my notebook)—that’s where they’ve been digging peat. Otherwise it looks like turf bog.
Stacked to dry—brick-like pieces
Labor-intensive work—the people in the area have the rights to the peat, so you shouldn’t grab a brick as a souvenir.
Rocky hills, sheep. Some of these sheep have long tails, like eight inches.

Glencolmcille=folk village
Markelt Towers, which we see on the banks overlooking the ocean, were built by the British because they thought Napoleon would invade. They were built from Donegal to Galway. People at the towers could signal with fire to different towers (like in Lord of the Rings).

Going around a curve, we saw two sheep standing in the middle of the narrow road—suddenly a car came along and the sheep ran to the side of the road.

The Irish still make rock walls.

Dolman—Burial ground, 3000 BCE—nobody knows who built this—may have been slave labor. Side stone, capital stone, roof stone, standing stone by entrance.
Earthquakes have made roof stones slide off.
Four dolmans in field with stone walls, one big chunk of quartz in wall—Patty (tour guide) says it was probably taken from a dolman.

As we walked back down the dirt path between fields, heading toward the bus, we stopped at a shed where we heard doggy whines. A member of the tour explained that she had opened the door earlier, and there was a sheepdog puppy in the shed. Apparently it was put in there because it isn't trained yet and would disturb the sheep. I took a picture of its nose sticking out of a crack.

Colum Kell—born in the year 521. Colum--Latin for “dove” Kell—Gaelic for “church”
Hung out at monasteries, copied for himself the Bible, secretly at night, got in trouble. High born, high king of Ireland, O’Connor took him to court. Colum banished to island of Iona—not allowed on Ireland.

561—resulted in a slaughter of this area.
O’Connell left Ireland in 1500—flight of the earls.

After tour, shopping in Donegal Town.
La Bella Donna=restaurant where we met up.

Tour bus—a car that just went by had a bar across the top that said “Doctor” instead of “Taxi,” and it had glowing green lights on either side of the bar.

Ash, oak, sycamore—indiginous trees are deciduous. Firs imported from Scandanavia and aren’t exactly compatible with the environment.
At the B&B--Heather, clover, lots of bright flowers (John planted dandelions just for his kid’s guinea pig).
Dunasi—the name of the B&B, means Forest of Fairies (there’s a fairy ring of trees in the front yard).

Famine graveyard—big hole to fill up with bodies, no tombstones. Don’t know who’s buried there, just know bodies were found (we passed a brown landmark sign that said “Famine Graveyard.”)

Kil=church
Bally=town

Stone walls—the Irish would rather starve than take charity form the Brits, so the Brits paid them a penny a day to build stone walls.

Below 3.5% unemployment now.
Most university grads employed here and high % go on to third level education.

Dicey Reilly’s Pub—extremely crowded pub with a big Buddha over fireplace (but all the pubs were crowded; Saturday night during Bank Holiday and the Festival—people out in front of the pubs and wall-to-wall indoors. We squeezed through the crowd, ordered drinks, and went up a staircase to the upstairs area, where there was the big Buddha that I took a picture of (and it turned out really dark—disposable camera).