Ireland - part seven

Earlier in this series of posts, I stated the all too obvious - Ireland’s history, the history you can touch, is around every corner in a way that in Canada it is not. 

However lovely the aged stone, the Irish cannot escape the past … or can they?

There are those who would say that Ireland, for too long, was trapped by - beholden to - history. But, from the 1970s on, entry into the European Union; the Troubles in the North and their impact on the Republic; a collapse of the Catholic Church almost as dramatic as in Quebec; economic boom and bust, then more modest boom; immigration rather than emigration; all propelled Ireland into modernity. Ireland has looked deep into its soul, discovered a more secular national consciousness and displayed admirable maturity while doing so.

Same sex marriage approved; a gay prime minister of Indian heritage and now a May 25 referendum on abortion rights in a country with some of the world’s strictest laws

Given the emotions and beliefs involved, I’ve been very impressed to not see a single sign - ‘yes’ or ‘no’ - vandalized. Doubtless, many I did not see have been defaced, but I cannot imagine similar restraint and civility in, say, my own country should a similar vote be held (although Canada has long had abortion on demand).

Ireland feels - is - progressive, while Northern Ireland still has the UK’s most restrictive abortion laws and, given other significant problems, resolving this is not top of list. It is, in some ways, a pity to focus on such a hugely divisive matter as abortion, but that's the big issue here right now. Or at least the big issue along with Britain’s departure from the EU and the implications for Ireland, north and south.

(May 25 - By an overwhelming majority, Ireland has voted to end the ban on abortion.)

There’s a visit this summer and it will be a lot different from a previous one. Pope Francis arrives in August. When Pope John Paul II came in 1979, Ireland was still a highly conservative, church-going country. The crowds for John Paul were vast. Francis will come to - for better or worse - a secular nation. Many look forward to welcoming him, but far fewer than in 1979. Ireland has escaped the cloister. 

I have really enjoyed my trip. And I’ve learned something while here. My great grandmother may have been born in Ireland. That is still to be confirmed, however I do hope it’s true. Although I am from a very Anglo background, the journey has considerably improved my understanding of - and appreciation for - what Ireland has endured and accomplished. I depart with an affection I did not have before.

Ireland - part six

I’m back in the south, the Republic. Time to reflect on landscape and read more Irish history.  

The Puritan Oliver Cromwell, who the Irish do not look back on with fondness, is said to have told Catholics to go ‘To hell and Connaught’.

Connaught is in Ireland’s rugged, even harsh, west. 

Connemara, within Connaught, is marvellous for walking, lousy for agriculture. The native Irish were expelled from the best farmlands further east. What was disaster for peasants is good for well clad and fed tourists.

For all its beauty, this was famine country. 

How many stood on these coasts - this is the Ring of Dingle - looked out to the Atlantic and thought - there must be something better away from Ireland? 

In fact, we know … during and immediately after the Great Famine - An Gorta Mór - from 1845 to 1849, a million emigrated (many to Canada) and a million more died of hunger and disease.

Now, despite a cruel post-2008 downturn, there is prosperity. Although Ireland’s population may still be less than before the Great Famine, business and sheep numbers are certainly up.

I come across a young farmer, Evan, and his dog Kate impressively displaying skills I’ve only seen on television. 

Hello, my cute lamby friends. Enjoy yourselves because, in about nine months, you’ll be with mint sauce or jelly depending on preference.

On the other hand, this duo can look forward to a pleasant retirement.

Assisted by evocative music  … 

… at a few pubs, I wend my way south and east ...

... meet some lovely people ...

… indulge my love of signs that aren’t mass produced …

… and stores that aren't chains or franchises.

Even in the rain, I’m having a good time.

Ireland - part five

In the 1970s, on a quiet day for Belfast mayhem, I found the Northern Ireland Tourist office. If I remember rightly, staff had been cut to three with little to do. As killings increased, the sales pitch seemed to be that no visitors had been deliberately targeted. That was true, but visitor numbers had understandably plummeted.

Back then I didn’t take many personal pictures. However, from when I came across a British Army patrol, two show typical Irish stone walls and the pastoral countryside. Lovely, but ideal for terrorist ambushes. 

On this trip, without worrying about crossfire, military or paramilitary roadblocks, I travel unimpeded lanes …

… visit the Antrim coast …

… the Glens of Antrim …

… and moody beauty of the uplands.

I have never been to the World Heritage Giant’s Causeway, so that’s worth a stop. 

But, while I’ve been here, concern has only increased about what Brexit could mean for for the border between north and south. Two countries - one leaving the European Union - are going their separate ways.

So, on my final day in Northern Ireland, on a quiet country road, at the River Erne, I come to one of many unmarked border crossings. 

Here, I’m in the north with the Republic just over the bridge. The odd local and car occasionally pass by.

The only obvious signs you’re crossing a frontier are that traffic signs shift from miles-per-hour to kilometres. At a cafe just around the bend in the Republic, you pay in Euros not pounds. 

In the middle of the bridge, Ireland is on the left and ahead; the house on the right is in Northern Ireland. There is no marking I can find indicating the border. But, as always here, there is tribal memory.

The ruins and derelict farmhouse are in Ireland and someone has run up an Irish flag. From here, a local tells me, the IRA used take potshots into the north. During the Troubles, there were a number of killings here, including British soldiers, a policeman, an IRA member and others. 

I stroll over and climb the little hill, looking from the ruins across the border back into Northern Ireland. It is very peaceful.

I walk back and stand approximately in the middle of the bridge, Northern Ireland to the left, Ireland to the right. In the near future, what will be here and what will it mean for this island?

As for me, I'm now going to indulge in some gentle rural touring in Eire.

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Having reread the previous posts, I must emphasize it’s not my intention to downplay the concerns of Northern Ireland’s mainly Protestant Loyalists. They are now an increasingly slim majority in the North. They will soon in their eyes or, at least, the eyes of many Protestants, be a beleaguered minority. Even more of a minority, should the unknown, distant future take them into what many experts say is inevitable union with the Republic. 

That Protestants discriminated against Catholics through centuries in Ireland, then for much of the 20th Century in Northern Ireland, is not in serious dispute. That - and it is so easy for an outsider to say - logic should triumph over ignorance and prejudice would be the obvious, happy solution. It is clearly not that simple or, if it was, Protestant and Catholic, Loyalist and Republican, would have made incontestable peace long ago.

Brexit has simply highlighted to the rest of us how brittle ‘community’ relations are in Northern Ireland. With other headlines to worry about, we had assumed that, with but occasional blips, violence had largely subsided and progress was being made. The Europa Hotel was no longer being bombed, so that was good. Of course, that was, and is, true. But peace here is not incontestable … would that it was and certainly would that it someday will be.