WHEN I HAD FIRE WITHIN MY BLOOD: CHAPTER FOUR

JUNE 12, 2000.  6:45 PM.  SLIGO.  YEATS COUNTRY HOTEL.

I saw the Ulster American Folk Park today, which was really kind of strange.  It was like Ireland's version of the Wild West town in Union, IL, but it not only showed what life was like for the Irish earlier in time, but also how it was for Americans on the other side of the immigration boat.  There are a some thatched huts and stone buildings, and yes, all the doorways went up to my chest.  Even back then, everything was built for small people.  I had to duck my head to move around inside these buildings.  Oddly enough, no matter how small the people must have been, they built very steep steps, as was evidenced in the boat replica.  The sleeping arrangements must have been hell, even for small people.  The beds were wood with a very thin, very hard mattress on top, and that was more than the Irish got on the immigration boat.  The American side of the park was a bit bigger, although I still had to duck to get inside buildings.

We had lunch in Enniskillen in a pub (naturally).  I ate the usual shitty cheeseburger.

We saw how pottery was made in Belleek.  It's very intricate and delicate work, and I felt nervous, considering how big and clumsy I am.  I'm proud to say, though, that I made it out without knocking one thing over, which was a real feat.  They had stuff lying all over the place.

We went to the grave of W.B. Yeats.  Surprisingly, it's not a weathered old grave like the rest of the tombstones.  It looked brand new.  His epitaph:

"Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by."

So here I am at the hotel named after Yeats looking out at the vast Atlantic Ocean, getting ready for what will probably be a terrible dinner.  The shower is huge.  Finally, I have found something made for big people.  I can barely touch the showerhead!

JUNE 12.  10:00 PM.  SLIGO.  YEATS COUNTRY HOTEL.

I'm pleased to say that I got a cheeseburger instead of the usual crap they try to pawn off on us.  Granted, it still wasn't that great, but I could stomach it better than the fish.

Here's something I've noticed about Irish television getting American shows.  POPULAR is a "new series" starting July 6.  Back in America, we've been suffering its existence for a while, which means that the American shows that Ireland gets, while reruns to us, are brand new to them.

Another thing:  the hour shows we're used to are compressed into half-hour shows with maybe one or two commercials every ten minutes.  They also cut the shows a bit.

JUNE 12.  11:00 PM.  SLIGO.  YEATS COUNTRY HOTEL.

Another television shocker:  they allow nudity and swearing on regular TV here in Ireland!  I'm watching this show where they computer match eight people and set them loose on a villa for a weekend of wild drinking and sex.  One guy even pissed in this drunk guy's mouth.  It's called THE VILLA.  It's like turning on ABC and seeing the type of stuff you see on late night Skinemax (without the lame attempt at plot).

JUNE 13.  8:10 PM.  LIMERICK.  LIMERICK RYAN HOTEL.

I saw the bogs today, which was kind of scary.  The bogs are barely different from the rest of the land, so you could just go wandering in, and you'll drown before you even realize what happened.  The ground looks utterly solid, yet you can sink up to fourteen feet.  Geraldine, our tour guide, took us out onto the bog, and the safe ground is amazingly spongy.  You can only see the water if you're looking for it, and if you have good vision.  I'm surprised so many drunkards survive out here.

We didn't do much today, so I'll talk about the two people showing us Ireland:  Geraldine and Michael.

Geraldine is the perfect stereotype of the Irish woman.  She knows the language, tells the stories, and speaks in the expected accent.  She was probably given this job because of all these qualities.  She's very nice and knows exactly what she's talking about.  She even knows stories about the wee folk.  She is also the sister-in-law of Colm Meaney.

Michael is the driver with balls of steel.  He can drive the coach up and down narrow mountain roads, so he can effectively drive ANYWHERE.  He looks like the guy who played Grady in Stanley Kubrick's version of THE SHINING, and he is a proper, Guinness-drinking Irishman.

We did go to Kylemore Abbey today, which was built for big, rich people.  It's just the kind of thing I wanted to see in Ireland.  Their idea of a castle is nothing like ours; when they think of the word, they think of a small tower standing on its own in most cases (there are exceptions, but not many).  They are nothing like the enormos palaces we think of.  Kylemore Abbey, however, sprawls like a Hammer movie castle.

Aside from places like this, most historical Irish places are so small that I'm starting to wonder if the people who originally lived here were hobbits.  The homes are small for me, but for a hobbit, they'd be gigantic.

I saw the land where THE QUIET MAN was filmed.  While the Duke can't stride here anymore, Maureen O'Hara's still alive, and she lives in County Cork.

Speaking of famous people, guess who showed up in Derry not more than a half-hour before we left?  Prince Charles and his entourage.  There was also a Russian ambassador at the Abbey (I passed him on the way to the Gothic Church), and the big-busted woman from the POLICE ACADEMY movies was there, as well.