Occasionally Packie was not alone behind his bar in Corr Point. Sometimes other, younger people would be serving the Guinness. I was told that most of these were relatives, youngish women who were back for a few week’s respite from London or Dublin or Belfast. Making it clear that I was not the only traveller in the pub.
Aoife, is only in her 20s but she’s worked in Australia and Italy as well as Dublin and London. She was on a weekend break from the East End. “Sure, you’re not going to do that blogging thing – where someone who has been in London for 5 minutes thinks they know all about the place. I’ve been over there for almost 3 years and I don’t even know half of Stratford yet – let alone the rest of the city.”
There were some murmurs of approval at this. Most of the younger people thought that the Irish had always travelled for work and found it odd that when they went to England, it wasn’t the same there. They didn’t feel what they were doing was anything special and couldn’t see why someone should want to write about it.
“It’s enough that we have to do it – that we don’t spend time putting it in writing like.”
Colm was spending the weekends back home but worked during the week in Dublin. He had a new job in suicide prevention so was a bit more positive about my plans for the gambling part of the site.
“I can see the need for such as yourself to write and tell people that you can do things after you’ve given up – but I can’t quite see the connection to travelling.”
One or two locals couldn’t quite work out why I was starting my trip in Donegal. I said it just seemed logical to me, to which a phone was pulled out and an old advert for sausages (of all things was screened) I could see the funny side.
I have embedded the ad from You-tube – but in case the link doesn’t work, the young lad decides he wants to go travelling so asks his parents to spin the globe so he can get his destination. “You’re going to Bali” his da says. The next scene sees him on a local bus bound for Bally-haunis.”
“Ah – aren’t we all travelling now” was one of the comments when for the nth. time I was trying to explain what I was doing, starting my trip in Donegal, in March.
“Where was that island that you was on Tom?”
“Ah, you mean Papua New Guinea?” I can’t remember the name of the island itself but I know it took 5 planes to get there. Now that was real travelling that was.”
“And I’ve been to Darwin – well that was the nearest place, but we was in jungle too, sure enough – if you can have jungle in Australia.”
“I went to Arranmore once,” chipped in Packie. Arranmore was a small island off the coast of Donegal which I had expressed an interest in going to if the weather was right. (I never got there.)
“What was it like,” I ventured.
“Oh I didn’t see much. I only got to the second pub.”
Someone had to ask it. “The second pub?” “Yes,” continued Packie. “It was quite early and the first pub was shut, so I only got to the second pub.” He gave a characteristic chuckle and repeated the comment a few times to those that would listen.
Some days later I asked him again about Arranmore and was told the same story. “But what is it like?” I asked. “I don’t know – I got to the second pub and stayed in it until it was time to go home. I’m told the rest of the island is worth seeing though. There’s a boat every half hour.”
“Oh, I thought they were hourly,” remembering what I had read on the website. “Ah well there’s one leaves one way on the hour and one leaves the island on the hour and they cross in the middle. I know that’s right because I was watching them all day. So that’s 2 per hour, every half hour, like I said.” I nodded a little bamboozled by his logic.
My favourite conversation was with another young woman – who’s name I have unfortunately forgotten. She had also travelled all over for work including bar work in London and Birmingham and a season on a cruise liner. She told me, “ you can go all over and there is nothing as nice as all this.” She said, her hand sweeping to the outside. “You can put up with almost anything when you know you have Donegal to come back to. I may spend the rest of my life on the road but this will always be where my heart is. Now you will have to come back here – won’t you?”
