Ireland (Lonely Planet, 9th Edition) - Fionn Davenport [1]
And these are unquestionably difficult times for Ireland. By now, we’re all wearily familiar with the story of the pinstriped bozos who brought the world to its knees by throwing bits of paper up in the air and calling them ‘derivatives’. But Ireland’s is that much more shocking because the collapse of the global financial system triggered the virtual disintegration of an economy that was blindly, blithely – and ultimately disastrously – dependent on a property bubble that burst in late 2008, leaving the country to once again confront the fears of its past: spiralling unemployment, economic paralysis and the slow bleed of emigration.
Then, six months later, just as the country was beginning to come to terms with the harsh new realities of its economic fortunes, its annus horribilis was compounded with the publication of the 3000-page report of the Commission to Inquire into Child Abuse, which revealed in all its stark, unspeakable horror the fate of so many of the almost 170,000 children who passed through the industrial school system in the middle decades of the 20th century – and the complicity of both the Church and the State in their workhouse hell. In 2009 one question was on everybody’s lips: how did it all go so horribly wrong?
You’ll hear a lot of theories from Irish people during your travels, as well as a few no-nonsense solutions: throw all the bankers in jail, defrock the clergy and, above all, get rid of that awful show of liars and incompetents in government. But they know, too, that none of those things are likely to happen, so they’ll shake their heads in resignation and sure, isn’t that just the way of things? Then they’ll offer you a drink and talk about Ireland’s problem with the stuff – how it’s both the nurse and curse of the people – all the while making sure that your glass never gets empty.
For all of Ireland’s very real problems and confusing contradictions, the fact remains that the Irish warmth and welcome is the real deal, and millions of visitors testify to the sheer ease with which they made friends here. Someone will stop and help you find your way when you’re standing on a corner gawking at a map; you will strike up a conversation if you’re sitting alone in a pub; and there is a very good chance that if you’re stuck somewhere a local will volunteer a lift to wherever you need to go. The Irish love complaining about their country – the crappy weather, the horrible traffic, the corruption and, increasingly, the horrors of the past – and will swear to you that you’re the luckiest person on earth because you don’t have to live here. But that they only do because this is the greatest country on the planet. Make sense? Well, it does here.
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Getting Started
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WHEN TO GO
COSTS & MONEY
TRAVELLING RESPONSIBLY
TRAVEL LITERATURE
INTERNET RESOURCES
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Compact, relatively homogenous and theoretically crossed by car in less than four hours, Ireland doesn’t pose any major challenges to the visitor other than the ones set by the often inclement weather; the horrendous traffic that can make getting through a two-dog town a 45-minute struggle against road rage; and what might generously be called inconsistent pricing, where value for money isn’t always apparent. Otherwise, Ireland is a doddle.
WHEN TO GO
The Irish weather works on the ‘four seasons in a day’ principle, which basically means that you can’t predict a thing when it comes to the behaviour of the sky. Some basic assumptions, however, can be made.
In summer, from June to August, the days are reasonably warm and – most importantly – very long: at the height of summer you won’t need to turn on the lights until after