Skibbereen

Relaunching

Image

Nead an Iolair

We have returned to West Cork, to the house we bought overlooking Roaringwater Bay, and this time it’s for keeps. Our first month has been a whirlwind of unpacking, sorting, making the house our own, meeting neighbours and friends from our winter stay, and taking in everything West Cork has to offer in the summer. Within a few days of arriving we had been to markets, a play, and several concerts; spent a day at an agricultural fair and another on a beach; attended gallery openings and a classic boat gathering; participated once again in the Friday night music sessions in Ballydehob; hosted dinner parties and been hosted in return; in short – settled back into the marvellous rhythm of West Cork life, but this time as permanent residents.

Cruinniú na mBád: Ballydehob boat gathering

Cruinniú na mBád: Ballydehob boat gathering

We will be writing in Roaringwater Journal about aspects of life and why we love it here. An enormous part of it all, of course, is the people we meet – their open welcome and friendly acceptance has made us feel at home. But it’s more than that: people here are still close to the land, fiercely proud of this area, keepers of the lore and the history and uniquely expressive. Everyone loves to talk, so you’d better not be in a hurry. Today, for example…

After a late night at the session (made exceptional by the addition of a group of French musicians) we had slept in a bit and decided to head into Skibbereen to breakfast and the market. But even though it’s Saturday here comes Ger, the electrician, with the replacement bathroom fan. Abandoning the plan, we made breakfast for all of us and Ger, having installed the fan, regaled us with stories of the townland he comes from, a mile down the road. We told him we had tramped up and down the roads there, the other day, looking for a piece of rock art, a large boulder with cupmarks on the top, and couldn’t find it. He grinned, “’Tis in my yard,” he said. “The legend is that Finn McCool threw it down from Mount Gabriel.” We made a date to go next week to record it and moved on to discussing the theatre. Ger is an actor and knowledgeable dramatist and, over the eggs and toast, he gave us an insightful review of the recent “Fit Up Theatre” productions (excellent!) we had been going to.

West Cork Arts Centre

West Cork Arts Centre

Then it was off to Skibb, to see if Richard, the cable guy, could come back and finish installing the wireless network in the house. In the store, the manager, who turned out to be Richard’s father, explained to us that Richard was on a hurling team that had just won the County finals for their division and needed to celebrate. With a twinkle in his eye, he suggested that we not look out for him before Wednesday. And while we were waiting, he added, why didn’t we take in this great presentation on Tuesday night, for which he would be delighted to sell us tickets. Half an hour later, we left the store, having been brought up to date on the plans for a new Arts Centre and been told the history of his name, family and business.

First Visitors

First Visitors

And so go our days. The summer is winding down and the villages will soon lose the tourist-mecca bustle. Already many of the houses in our little cove have the blinds down as their owners return to the city. There’s a slight hint of autumn in the evenings. Our walks are slowed by the temptations offered by the blackberry brambles, our mornings enlivened by visits from Ferdia, our friendly fox.

From Canada and from England, from cities, from careers and responsibilities, from vastly different lives, we have come together to this extraordinary place.

And now here we are – at home in West Cork.

Living in Colour

Main Street, Ballydehob

Main Street, Ballydehob

I remember greyness. Grey stone, grey plaster, grey slate, grey concrete, rain-washed grey windows. In 1965 my parents painted our house navy blue, with white trim. In the middle of a terrace of grey houses it caused a minor scandal.

Kilmore Quay Thatched CottageWhile the traditional Irish cottage of the postcards was whitewashed and thatched, with perhaps a daring red half-door, there were always isolated farmhouses in lurid colours in the deep countryside. Inexplicably painted bright purple or tangerine or electric green, they hinted at the farmer wanting something he could find in the middle of the night coming home on the bicycle after a long evening in the pub. But the general change came gradually with the popularity of the Tidy Towns competition, where villagers were encouraged to spruce up their houses, trim their lawns and keep the village neat and clean. I left Ireland in 1974 and a constant delight of visits home since then has been the discovery of Ireland of the Colourful Houses.

2012-05-08 10.51.272012-12-16 12.15.29Towns and villages are a riot of multi-coloured shop fronts and dwellings. In some, the decorous and tastefully pastel abound. The streets that provide most eye candy, though, are those that have kissed goodbye to any sense of discretion in favour of in-your-face vivid and clashing shades. The rainbow streetscapes, whether quietly elegant or flamboyant, work delightfully, buoying the spirits and infusing every shopping trip or sightseeing expedition with a sense of play and exuberance.

2012-05-08 10.45.342012-05-08 11.46.20This is our last post for 2012. HAPPY NEW YEAR to all our dear family and friends, wherever you are. May 2013 bring all good things your way.

Oh, and by the way, the place names competition is still open for entries. Prizes still to be won!

The Sober Streets of Skibbereen

The Sober Streets of Skibbereen

Getting in the Christmas Spirit

2012-12-05 15.08.44

This week revolved around two trips, to Baltimore and Cork City, and observing the Irish spirit of Christmas.

Stolen VillageBaltimore – wha..? No – we didn’t take a quick trip to the States: Baltimore, the original one, is a small town in West Cork. It’s where you catch the ferries to Sherkin and Cape Clear Islands, and right now it’s hosting whale-watching tours because the humpbacks are in town. We walked out to the Beacon, an iconic landmark that in earlier times provided guidance into the harbour, hoping to catch a glimpse of the humpbacks. Although there were no whales to be seen, it was another ‘pet day’ and we were more than adequately compensated by the views over Sherkin and the Harbour, glowing in the low afternoon sun. A friend has loaned us her copy of The Stolen Village by Des Ekin – a riveting account of the Sack of Baltimore, in 1631, when Barbary Pirates laid waste to the town and bore away almost all the villagers into a life of slavery.

I lived in Cork City for seven years in the late 60’s and early 70, finishing secondary school and completing two degrees. Then, it was an undistinguished provincial town, with its own culture, sense of place and humour, and an uninspiring Victorian architecture. Nowadays it’s a lively city with a huge variety of stores and a European vibe. Many of the narrow streets have been pedestrianised, leading to a downtown core made for strolling and gawking, and on every street corner were carol singers, brass bands, or entertainers. We stayed in a wonderful place, the River Lee Hotel, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river, great food and friendly and accommodating staff. While the main purpose of our trip was to attend a rock art meeting at UCC, we whiled away several happy hours on Christmas shopping.

2012-12-08 12.18.072012-12-08 12.15.19Back in West Cork, we took in one of the local Christmas events in Skibbereen – a Live Crib. Our entry ticket came with a carrot for the donkey. The animals were live, but Mary, Joseph and the baby were mannequins. It was explained to us that “t’would be nice, like, to have them played by real people, but sure ‘twas freezing for them, and the last girl who played Mary was most of the time on her mobile.”

We rounded off the week by erecting our Christmas tree. It’s surprising what you can do with  a tree branch, some holly and berries, and five ornaments.

2012-12-08 14.11.54

To Market, To Market

2012-11-02 11.36.59

This…

2012-11-25 17.55.05

…becomes this

2012-11-24 14.38.49

Lunch at Ard Glas

2012-11-10 10.49.58

West Cork Pies

We are fortunate to have two excellent farmers’ markets on our doorstep: the Bantry Market on Fridays and the Skibbereen Market on Saturdays. We go, just to wander, not really needing anything – but we always emerge with a bag full. We love to buy carrots and parsnips covered in this morning’s earth, and scrub them up under the outside tap back at Ard Glas. The fish stall ladies will fillet a whole fish for you in a trice, and give you hints on the best way to cook it. The numerous homemade bread and cake stalls have started to load up their tables with mince pies and Christmas puddings. A new stall, West Cork Pies, sells the world’s yummiest Steak in Murphy’s Pie (Murphy’s is the Cork Guinness), Chicken and Leek Pie, and a variety of pasties. I am putting in an order for Christmas, to take up to Dublin. Our lunch often consists of cheese from the Bantry cheese stall, with Courgette and Ginger Chutney picked up in Skibb, and (I know I shouldn’t) a slice of chocolate biscuit cake from one of the baking stalls.

2012-10-20 11.06.45I love to chat to the stall owners and ask about their produce. Trouble is, it’s hard to walk away without buying something, so now I have two packets of nutritious seaweed from the charming seaweed man, and I’m not quite sure what to do with them. Fortunately, Robert rescued me after a long conversation with the wood carver before I felt I had to buy a headboard.

At Bantry there’s even a Fight for Irish Freedom stall, selling books and images and with rebel music blaring out from speakers. I stop here to wonder what all the English people who call West Cork home make of it all. We move on to the chickens, the colourful kilims, oh…and there’s the guy with the lovely French soap!

kilimsFreedom Stall

West Cork Food

When we chose West Cork, we had no idea we were landing in Foodie Heaven: or rather, a former Foodie Heaven. The recession has hit local producers and fine dining establishments, many of which have closed.

The ‘Fuchsia Brand’ website – Fuchsia is the ubiquitous hedgerow flower hereabouts – a kind of West Cork quality assurance organization for local produce, hasn’t been updated since 2008, although other websites point to farmers’ markets and food festivals. The West Cork Artisan Awards website explains the West Cork food signature thus: It is the individual flourish in an artisan’s way of working that brings forth the best in everything, whether it’s the best loaf of bread, the best farmhouse cheese, the best potatoes, or the best beef. This is the West Cork way: a way of life first, a business second.

Whatever about the wonderful local cheeses, the yoghurt and sausages, what we have found here is that food tastes fresh and homegrown in a way I had almost forgotten in Canada. In the presence of new potatoes I believe in God, and my faith has been given a boost here with a bag of potatoes from Saturday’s Skibbereen market freshly dug that morning. The woman at the fish stall filleted a whole plaice for us and we bought some tiny round squash, about the size of hurling sliotars (like an American baseball). Saturday night’s dinner – delicious!
An Irish staple is boiled bacon and cabbage. I adapted that idea to a hearty soup with a base of leeks and lashings of root vegetables (squash, parsnips, beets, carrots and potatoes) and a great slab of green (unsmoked) bacon. We’ve been eating it for days now, with brown soda bread and aged Gubeen cheese.
We have found excellent coffee almost everywhere we go, often accompanied by scones or lemon drizzle cake. On a recent trip to the Mizen we stopped at The Gateway Restaurant in Durrus for coffee and were seduced by their pear and chocolate tort: the perfect end to an afternoon meandering around the coast of West Cork .