EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNALOctober 11, 1998
Belfast
Stories For Young People
Today's the day we visit the Giant’s Causeway. Promptly, a monsoon
sets in and Kristina and I are left standing in horizontal rain and the wind blowing us
nearly into the Irish Sea. Rich braves the rocks and explores the
"causeway" further on the slippery rocks. I am getting my first true taste of
Lisa’s description of Ireland: Wet and Windy.
In wet jeans we drive to Derry and meet Fergal. We then follow him to
Donegal where his parents have built a home amongst green fields and grazing sheep. The
house perches atop a hill overlooking the Lough Foyle and Northern Ireland. It
is a breathtaking albeit foggy panorama from Hugh and Mary’s living room. I am
reminded of the beautiful Mud Bay and the Coast Mountain view at the home I grew up in at
Crescent Beach. There is something about looking out at land and water and hills and
sky…especially if it is new to you…it gives a sense of place and understanding
of the surroundings.
We stay at the dinner table listening to Hugh’s stories and
deciphering his accent until 11pm. Hugh has enough material to write a screenplay. He
tells us about how he didn't marry until he was forty and how he had lived and
worked at EVERY conceivable job in the United States and Europe, about how he applied for
a job as a model maker in Philedelphia with no experience and told the man he had worked
as one in Ireland. They gave him the job and he fudged his way through the first few
months until he had learned to use the machines. Hugh tells us how he settled back
in Derry and became the school master to every citizen in the town, and how he could tell
which of the children would be criminals and who was vanadlising the bathrooms by plugging
up all the toilets. At 11pm, just when I think it's time to hit a bed
(there is a terrible storm blowing by now) we all stack, like clowns into Fergal’s
sister Lisa’s miniscule car and speed down the twisting and turning
stone-walled one-lane road. It's unbelievable how fast she takes it. It's one of
those situations where one simply huddles in the back and watches the hedges fly by as if
on an amusement ride.
The Chure Inn is filled with regular-looking folks. Someone is having a
birthday. The teenaged brothers play pop hits on their guitar and bass. Their voices
aren’t bad and they are great with the eye contact and freshly-scrubbed look. Hugh
continues with his sentiments about how good life is and how much fun he is having and how
he misses his tiny neighbor Paddy who looked after his house and was sold to work for
Protestant farmers at the age of nine. Fergal piles the drinks on the table before last
orders. We dance (well, I dance with coercion from Hugh). The power goes out and we sit in
the dark and finish our drinks. Then Lisa speeds back up the hill to the farm and we find
our beds, complete with a laid-out paper-thin nightgown provided by Mary.
