Northern Ireland - Day 1 - Warrenpoint, Carlingford

Okay, okay so that I may look back fondly years from now in this journal-blog of mine, I now prepare to detail my little adventure with the Leprechauns!

After flying into the Irish capital of Dublin, P and I rented a car and drove the 1.5 hours to County Down inNorthern (Occupied) Ireland where he is from. This is when I first was struck at the sheer numbers of fields dividing the country land and how green it all was. Soon we headed towards what used to be a barricade check-point with troops of armed British soldiers: the border between the North and the South. It was absolutely mind-boggling to me that Patrick not only grew up in the violent years of "The Troubles" of Northern Ireland but that his border hometown was right in the middle of it!

Warrenpoint, is a quaint, relaxing eastern seaside town of about 20k. It has evidently become very popular to settle and retire in and housing prices have soared along with the numerous new housing constructions. It has 2 piers and there is a lot of fishing done there. There is also a charming square with beautifully landscaped park and playground for children along with a bandstand that holds concerts in the summer. I was also surprised to learn there are quite a few golf courses throughout the land. I admire those that don't let the rain and cold stop them. Unsurprisingly, Patrick has a huge love of the sea as he grew up right on the water in a former 3-story hotel that he and his mother occupied while his father was often out to sea. Although somewhat strange that he should share such expanse alone with his mother, the undeniable fact is that he had an amazing view from his bedroom window high on the top overlooking the sea and his daily playground was the water. "I know every rock on that shore," he commented as he tossed a smooth rock, skipping it across the water with the ease of someone who grew up perfecting the pastime. It struck me that, of course, Patrick could only have become a world-traveling seafarer himself growing up in such a place and following the footsteps of his father and other men in his family.

After perusing the small town and shoreline, we drove to the very nice neighborhood that his parents now have settled in for 15 years. Completely different than the seaside hotel, this was Irish suburbia at its best. All pointed-roof houses were identically made from red bricks and impeccably landscaped - although I never did get an answer as to who does the landscaping when there aren't any Mexicans around to do it. Patricks 'mudder' (mother) was just as I expected: petite, generous, very hospitable and very Catholic. His American dad was the antithesis of his son: needing to be the center of attention and full of stories and opinions that had to be heard - he loves an audience and appreciated the engaging, polite one that I was.

After a most enjoyable hearty meal of vegetable stew and a loaf of fantastic freshly-baked wheat bread, we hit the hay for a bit before going to Saturday night mass with his folks. This was very interesting to me as I have enjoyed attending Catholic mass now in Mexico, Peru, Italy and Ireland as well as the USA. They do much less singing in Ireland - which made the mass only about 40 minutes long - no complaints to my jet-lagged self. The priest was young and I was pleasantly surprised to see he had a good sense of humour which he applied in his homily. Also, interesting to note was that they now use alter girls as well in Ireland (one would just assume they are too conservative and traditional to do so there, I mean, for Pete's sake - they barely made divorce legal in 1997!) I definitely got some stares there as there aren't many brown people or foreigners in the north - much less Latinos. I also didn't want to start any rough business for P by giving the wrong signals to the boys there in those smaller towns, so I was pretty frumpy and muted - NOT me at all - during my stay in the north.

That night we drove to a nearby medieval town of Carlingford to walk around and visit one of his old pubs. Patrick informed me there are younger, hip and modern nightclubs and bars now in Ireland but neither of us desired that as they are frequented by inebriated youth that have nothing better to do than start a fight. The pub we entered was small, old-fashioned and traditional with a low ceiling and mostly men. I laughed as I pointed out that I was the only one NOT drinking Guinness or a pint of some sort. Making me stand out all the more, he he he. Some things just can't be avoided after all, I guess. :) Click on slideshow below!

Warrenpoint, Ireland