I've got a serious case of Itchy Brain.

So our stuff has arrived .........blah blah blah

A few months ago, seven or eight actually, the Mrs and I were having what some would call a "slightly heated" discussion... the  reason for this was that we had vastly differing viewpoints on what should be packed. When the process of getting quotes for the packing and shipping of our worldly possessions to Ireland began, we were intent on sending the whole kit and caboodle which included our two boisterous little pugs Jack and George. This would have been a monstrously bad idea, thankfully sanity prevailed and we decided to downscale.

The thought of down-scaling to a hoarder like me is not easy, there is a valid reason why i hang onto each item and I will keep most things I deem might in the next century come in handy, from screws to used batteries, so it was life changing for me to start going through my things and either sell, give away or simply throw away. I went through waves of panic and anxiety, all for a few meaningless items, thankfully there was no shortage of people who would gladly pay for our stuff and some even happier to get it for free.

While we were going through our things we had loads of little mini arguments because one of us was intent on keeping some or other arbitrary item, I mean I know for sure I will at some point use all seven thousand used batteries and all the random key rings that I have . The reality though is very different. we don't need all these things we have, we like to surround ourselves with stuff, things that we think will be nice to have or will make us happy but they invariably will end up in the same drawer as the batteries and key rings, we would be far better off spending that energy on someone instead of something. 

In the end after the boxes, all 152 of them, were marked, labelled and packed in the truck I signed the paperwork and our stuff was on its way, I walked back inside to an empty house and looked over at our wonderful domestic worker Jeneath who was standing in our kitchen, with tears in her eyes, she said to me "it’s finished now",  I sat down in the middle of the floor and felt more overwhelmed right then, than I ever remember having felt before, for us it was finished, it was the end of the road. I realized then and there how a decision made with the best intentions can often have far reaching implications.

Three months and a criminally large amount of money later the email I had been waiting for arrived in our inbox, our stuff would be arriving in two days, and thankfully on a Friday morning. I took the day off and started the arduous process of unpacking. I was really excited and i knew it would be a lot of hard work, but what I wasn't prepared for was the way I felt about all these things, for most of the time we were waiting I imagined opening the boxes and hugging my stuff, not able to decide what to play with first. (I would have looked properly stupid hugging my bicycle), alas it wasn't the case. Not one of them was worth the hours of thought and planning we put into getting them here. It was all very anti climatic and if you ask me a complete and utter waste of money.

The unpacking lasted for an entire weekend, the kids and Mrs T worked like Trojans, and by Trojans I mean we bribed and begged them the entire time, and by Sunday it was mostly sorted and packed away. well except the 10 or so boxes labelled WTF were we thinking!!, these boxes are filled to capacity with utter rubbish, then the 7 boxes of clothing we sent to charity,  things a mere three months ago we valued and couldn't live without, it just shows how fickle human nature is. although i do think it is the first time in history that someone from Africa has paid good money to ship things to a charity in Ireland. How the tables have turned!!.

All this has made me realize that I place way too much value on insignificant things, our lives are so short and we only get one shot at it. The time goes by way too fast. And once we use it up, we can’t ever get it back. Each and every second is valuable. Possessions steal our time and energy. They require unending maintenance to be cleaned, fixed, replaced, and in the end disposed of.  They steal our precious attention, our time, and energy and we don’t even notice it… not until it’s too late anyway.

Charles Darwin once said,

“A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.”

He couldn't have been more right, our lives deserve better, we deserve better. Joy, happiness, and fulfillment are found in the invisible things in life, like, love, hope, peace, and friendship. And they are not on sale at your local retail store. People, who live their lives in pursuit of possessions, and I'm definitely guilty of that, are never content. They always desire newer, faster, or bigger because material possessions can never satisfy us fully.  We need to be reminded that our life is far too valuable to waste chasing them. And we should find more joy by choosing to pursue “better,” rather than “more.”

So be crazy. Be stupid. Be silly. Be weird. Be whatever you want to be. Because life is too short to be anything but happy.

Garreth

As Different as Night and...... Night

 

On March 27^th Ireland turned their clock forward one hour. This concept of daylight savings is completely new and foreign to me, not to mention very unsettling.  All I really know of it is that it has thrown life into complete and utter chaos. Just when you think you are starting to figure things out, Eiranne throws something else at you as if to say “you CANT HANDLE ME, you will NEVER HANDLE ME….” (Cue the Tom Cruise voice as in The Firm).  

As I was sitting in my lounge at 8h30 in the evening staring out into a bright sunlight I could foresee trouble for the next couple of weeks. My future looked bleak.  Sure it’s every SAFFA moms dream.  We are forever asking for more hours in a day to get things done.  But sometimes you need to be careful what you wish for as more daylight hours leads to less night time hours…. When you are the mother of 3 rambunctious children this can only spell trouble.  My toddler,  who was in a wonderful routine of going up to bed at 8pm and sleeping soundly until morning automatically turned into a nocturnal nightmare.  She is very bright child by nature and has grown to associate darkness with sleeping time.  When I inform her at 8pm that its bed time, I get the following from her: “No wanna go toooo bedddd. It’s nooooot black outside. Want my Peppa pig scooter, Wanna plaaaay”…. As a result this pink little bastard in the form of a cuddly porcine creature has literally ruined my life for the past couple of weeks. These are the perils of having intelligent children.  As for my other two kids, I barely see them.  They are out from the moment they get home from school until 9pm when I actually physically need to drag them inside to go to bed. 

My internal clock is totally messed up. It has been for nearly a month now and I’m starting to lose faith that it is going to come right again without some drastic intervention on my behalf.  Usually sleepiness gradually comes on and by 10pm I’m asleep as my melatonin levels rise in accordance with the setting sun. Now my melatonin levels are not rising sufficiently due to excess sunlight and by 10pm I am still wide awake left wondering if I need to drink myself into a coma for some sweet relief. My hormones are well and truly bolloxed!  Of course when I finally get to sleep I need to be up at 4h50 in the morning to start my day. I am wired completely for the rest of the day surviving on shots of caffeine and glimmers of hope of normalcy while the vicious cycle repeats itself continuously.

I have come up with a solution for the rug rat in order to get her to sleep on time. It will not win me any mother of the year awards, but quite frankly my desperation has outweighed my need for by the book parenting in this case. I close the blinds and put her on the couch with a blanket.  Usually the mobile phones and tabs are out of bounds but when your sanity is on the line, you may need to waiver these rules a little. I let her browse you tube video’s on the tablet. For about 20 minutes she is totally engrossed in the videos (Peppa Pig) and a few minutes later she is asleep and dead to the world.  No judgement please.  It is the only thing that is working at the moment. I have yet to find a solution for myself. Think I will need to develop a superhuman constitution and learn to power on through very little sleep.

So with Eyes wide open and mind racing, I started to compare this extended daylight to back home in Johannesburg where it gets dark at a reasonable hour.  It occurs to me that we have on many occasions over the last posts described how similar Ireland and South Africa are in many ways.  However, we have failed to mention how very different the two places are.  Regardless of the similarities, Ireland and South Africa are as different as night…..and well in this instance night.

South Africa is very quiet at night in the suburbs.  People are locked in their houses. The only disturbance of silence is the occasional car alarm or dog barking or house alarm going off. Every sound puts your nerves on edge.  Ireland has a buzz until way past night fall. There are people walking dogs, excited teens roaming the streets, couples taking strolls, kids riding bikes and scooters up and down and always a game of football carrying on somewhere.  It’s loud. But it’s a good loud. It’s a sign of life.  It’s a sign of the pure freedom that that individuals enjoy that was lacking back home.  It does not matter how cold it is out, people look past the weather and enjoy their lives to the full. They take this freedom for granted.  I however,  cannot remember being so free for over 20 years now.

People underestimate Johannesburg and South Africa in general.  They imagine wild life roaming streets and people living in mud huts and wearing loin cloths while still hunting our dinner with a cross bow. There is also a strong belief that we don’t have access to basic services like water, sewerage, phone and internet.  And even those who don’t have such an outdated view are also usually very surprised upon visiting South Africa at how modern and upscale the buildings and town plans are.  Our cities are populated by high rises and beautifully designed modern marvels.  With such high tech buildings you would expect the high tech services that a modern hub has to offer.  Although it is attempting to head that way, there are still services that are lacking and several stumbling blocks in the way.  The infrastructure cannot support the amount of people streaming into the cities to work, nor have they been maintained correctly.  As a result there have been power cuts, water shortages and a public transport service that is about as reliable as an Irish weatherman. So the potential is there for growth and for South Africans to enjoy first world amenities along with modern architecture and state of the art technology.  However, there is an inability to effectively use the resources at ones disposal to move SA forward in such a direction. I am dreaming of the day my mother land achieves such a feat.  Ireland on the other hand is completely opposite. However,   there appears to be one modern hub only. That is Dublin.  Although modern and state of art in its own right, there are no high rise buildings and there is still a stark preservation of what is old. If you fancy your modern architecture and demand the best in modern design, Ireland is not the place for you.  You will be bitterly disappointed. Outside Dublin to the North, South, East and West, you are transported into a completely different world.  There is country side for miles.  The lushest, greenest country side you have ever seen. These country sides are interspersed with villages and small to medium and large sized towns and your occasional city. There are apparently only 5 cities in Ireland.  These villages, towns and cities are pristine, yet old.  They are preserved in such a manner that they look old and feel old.  There are old churches, old bridges, old town walls, flowing rivers, historical statues and cobbled paths line streets.  It is like the Irish shy away from modern architecture as they feel it goes against their countries authenticity.  Don’t get me wrong.  It is definitely a first world country.  They have one of the fastest internet speeds in Europe. It literally takes 10 seconds to download an episode of Game of Thrones. The transport system is efficient and reliable. There are many mobile providers to choose from.  Television channel variety is out of this world.  The choice of stores for clothing and food shopping is wide and varied. Because of the multicultural dynamics you can find any kind of food you want from Polish, Lithuanian, Italian, and I even found a Nigerian shop!  Many international financial corporations and insurance houses have branches established here and more are moving in on a daily basis. The social welfare system, child benefit system and health care systems are top class (many Irish would disagree), and they are also ranked 5^th in the world in terms of education. Ireland is a first world country, but it is first world set in quirky and unusual surroundings and would be more than what modern day South Africans would be used to. It is like you have been transported from the now into medieval times and instead of a horse,  carriage and a fog horn you have an iPhone and beamer. It’s totally bizarre and something you will really need to get used to if ever you decide to make the move. They remain true to their roots. All the modern amenities mixed together with the traditional. Its classic Europe and I love it.  I understand it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea.

 

As for the weather.  Well….. What can I say? In some respects it lives up to its reputation. But in other respects it does not. People fail to realise that Ireland is an island and that the weather on an island is totally unpredictable.  Look at Mauritius.  Beautiful and sunny one minute.  Stormy and windy the next.  Well that’s the exact same as our beautiful emerald isle.  It is the only place on earth apparently where you can get sunburn and frostbite on the same day. With such variance in the weather patterns, the Irish are still not at all prepared for the extreme weather conditions. If it gets above 22 degrees, they fall into a hot mess.  All the shops sell out of ice cream and people are dropping off from heat exhaustion.  On the other hand when it is snowing, Ireland shuts down completely.  They have absolutely nothing in place to deal with snow and it is like the end of the world has come.  But one thing I will say is, there is a giant misconception with regards to rainfall.  It is assumed that it never stops raining.  This is inherently untrue.  Because it is an island, obviously a large amount of rainfall is expected.  However, we do enjoy beautiful sunny days too and we can go for days without seeing any rain.  In fact, I can pinpoint several places (that people choose to immigrate to because apparently the weather is great) that experience more rain than what we do here. But the weather is unpredictable and no degree in meteorology will help you in this case.  It’s the blind leading the blind I’m afraid.

You don’t come to Ireland for the modern architecture and design and to enjoy high rise city scapes in a fast paced technological hub.  You don’t come to Ireland for the weather.  You come here because you are the kind of person who wants to enjoy a quieter existence in beautiful surroundings. You come to Ireland if you appreciate the stark difference between modern and ancient cultures and the mutual respect shown for both first world and old world contributions.  You come to Ireland if you want to live amongst a government and in a social welfare system that actually looks after their fellow countrymen and immigrants alike (those of the legal variety of course). You come here for an education system that is world class. You come here to be part of an economy that been one of the fastest recovering economies in the recession and because the Irish are a hardy bunch of individuals, they crash hard but they get up stronger and more determined.   You come to Ireland for the importance they place on their children and the balance between work and family life.  25 working days ‘vacation is a lot of leave! You come here because the rest of Europe is at your doorstep.  Spain, Italy, Greece, Portugal and Malta with their beautiful Mediterranean beaches are close by and cheap to visit.  We have skiing in Austria and Switzerland, the beer fest in Germany, tulips and bicycles in the Netherlands. We have the northern lights in Norway and Iceland and the cultural marvels of the Czech Republic, Bulgaria, Romania and Croatia just to touch the surface.  You name it; we have it at our disposal. You will actually have the opportunity to travel and experience the world. The unattainable cost of travel is hopefully a thing of the past. In essence, you come here for what you intended leaving South Africa for... A better life.

 Above: Limerick

 Above: Cork City

 Above: Drogheda

Above: Dundalk

 Above: Galway

 Above: Kilkenny

Love and Light

C

Getting my Groove back

Baz Luhrmann once said,

 "Be careful whose advice you buy but be patient with those who supply it, Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past From the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts And recycling it for more than it's worth"

The only part of that song that's ever had any real meaning in my life are those few lines, I’ve for the most part completely ignored the rest of it, especially the sunscreen bit.

I have been really very fortunate to have had some great role models in my life they have come from all walks of life and have gladly dispensed advice as fast as I could take it, and trust me; I’ve made sure to take it as often as possible. I am who I am today because I aligned myself with the thoughts, actions and ideas I got from them. They have ranged from my mom and dad to aunts, uncles and older friends each one having left a Profound and unique footprint in my life story. This advice has made me confident in my abilities, confident to the point of arrogance sometimes but nonetheless confident that I can overcome whatever comes my way.

However No amount of confidence, (or googling ability); can prepare you for packing up your life and moving to a new country, leaving everything you know behind. I would go as far as to say that I don't think there are many harder things a person can do.  You will think you have prepared and that you know what to expect, you will think it will be hard, that you have planned and thought of everything, every possible contingency, you haven't not even close. 

When we were saying our goodbyes everyone gave us their own ideas of what we were sure to battle with, cleaning our own home, was right on top, simply because South Africans have never really had to worry about it back home, it’s a supreme luxury we all take for granted, another  was the weather, I can safely say that those are the very least of our worries, they are worries though believe me three kids are not tidy by any stretch of the imagination, but it is those very same things we thought were going to be the hardest to adjust to that turned out to be the easiest so far ( touch wood). It’s the little things that everyone has grown up doing from a child that as an immigrant you've neither experienced nor understand, these things, mundane little day to day things that pop up and utterly confound you. I have never in my life felt so stupid, (and trust me I’ve done some really stupid things). 

I dare anyone to move from a warm climate like South Africa to a country where central heating is of paramount importance to your day to day life and not feel like you know nothing. I cannot for the life of me get this heating thing worked out. We either freeze to death covered in layers, steam coming from our mouths, or are so hot we sit virtually unclothed drenched in sweat and need to open the doors because I’ve set something up wrong. There is no happy medium here, well at the very least, (and most likely reason) I’ve not found it. My long suffering wife has not been able to have a warm bath in months.  I suppose I could ask for help but that would be terribly un-manly and so ill rather just subject myself and my family to ice age temperature fluctuations, it keeps us awake, on our toes and I'd probably not understand the instructions anyway. 

Being fresh of the boat it’s a real challenge remembering to take an umbrella and a jumper, with you wherever you go, regardless of what the weather looks like outside, and especially what the weather report says,(I'm convinced they use a magic eight ball to predict weather here), its truly something none of us have mastered yet, there can be sunshine in Dublin and snow in Bettystown, they being a mere thirty km from one another, so invariably josh will have forgotten something at home so I hand over mine, all this means is that I'm very rapidly acclimatizing to the cold weather.  I really wish I’d paid more attention at boy scouts, it would be far easier to just be prepared.

A big part of a civilized society is the social customs and traditions we adhere to, the majority are similar across the globe, this is especially the case in English speaking countries. Some of the first ones we learn as toddlers is how to say hello and goodbye, here in Ireland they like to describe themselves as the land of Cead Míle Fáilte (“a hundred thousand welcomes”) well I’ll tell you it’s a land of a hundred thousand goodbyes too. When ending a phone call in Ireland it is very rude to just say bye and put the phone down, you will need to say bye at least five or six times to not be considered abrupt or rude, nobody tells you this, its assumed you know, so as newcomers its very strange when you hear it for the first time.  For future reference this is the correct way to end a phone call in Ireland “Yeah? I’ll see ya then, so. Okay. Bye. Bye. Bye, bye. Bye. Bye-bye-bye. Bye. Bye-bye. Bye.”.

Another one of the quirkiest sayings we've come across and one you will undoubtedly hear when visiting is the phrase “ya man” it basically means “that guy” in the third person, and don't be surprised to hear it more than once in a sentence. A great example of this happened to me this last week. I was having a phone conversation with a potential customer and asked him three times what his name was, I still don't know, (just because you live in an English speaking country doesn't mean it’s an English you will understand), after I had completed the call, the lads in the office asked me who it was. I responded with, “Ya man” and that folks was a completely acceptable answer! I got this!,  shew!!!

 It’s taken a long time for me to realize, and I think because I wasn't prepared to and partly because I was being selfish, that my poor wife was extremely unhappy living in SA, being held up in an armed robbery fundamentally changed who she is, it’s had a long term impact on everything she has done since that day, once you have kids your focus changes to them and their safety too, and so in the end her decision to move was based on our family as a unit and what is best for us.    

It’s been very difficult to take a back seat with this because I normally handle everything, I make the decisions, (or at least Candice lets me think I do), but I have had to rely solely on her to lead this emigration because of her passport and citizenship status.  she single handedly engineered our move, from the initial discussions, or arguments because I'm stubborn and wouldn't listen to reason, right through the application process, she spent many a night compiling packs of documents for each application, and if you know her at all you can see why the lady receiving them said she had never before seen such a well put together application. 

It takes a strong women to take the responsibility for this, to keep everything and everyone on track, she is always inquiring whether I'm OK and how I feel. I think she is worried I will hold a grudge if it doesn't pan out or if I hate it, but  the only reason I’ll get through this and get my so called groove back is because of her unwavering strength and support, a strength that isn't physical, but is an inherent part of her being. She is a wonderful albeit loud example to my kids, it all becomes a lot easier when you have strong people in your life

Now as has been custom I’ll leave you with another well-known Irish saying.

"What’s for you, won’t pass you by"

So for those wanting to make a move like this, I can offer some advice, be patient and believe that time will bring understanding, it will bring confidence and peace. There really is no point trying to figure it all out in the first few weeks, so knuckle down and work hard, get involved in your local community, and in time you will get your groove back

(Oh and don't forget the sunscreen)

GT

Mounds and Marshmallows

Mounds and marshmallows

Since my arrival in Ireland on 14 January,  I have been lucky enough to have had the opportunity to visit some of Irelands many famous and not so famous (yet equally charming)  “off the beaten track” sights and landmarks. In our attempts to familiarize ourselves with our  new environment and  the history of our host country, the hubby and I have stood out like sore thumbs moving from one area to another  recording each moment through the eye of some form of lens  like over eager tourists.  So much for our intentions to blend in and assimilate!!  In fact, as it was pointed out to me this weekend, the first time I have actually seen Ireland with my own two eyes was on Easter Sunday when my mobile phone died and I had nothing to take pictures with. The horror of it!  I felt like I was missing a limb. But ultimately the untimely death of my cell battery was for the best.  Caught in such a situation forced me to familiarize myself with the famous words of Albert Einstein: “'Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts.”  This thought provoking quotation has bought me to the realization that some things are best experienced not behind the camera but in the moment. In lieu of a camera I comfort myself with the notion that the memory will capture the image and it shall remain forever imprinted on my heart.

I recall a day very early in February when the kids had just started school at the local National. I had not yet begun to work at my new job and my mom was still staying with us for the initial “settling in phase” of our move.  Hubby had just arrived from Johannesburg a few days prior to this and Mom was getting rather restless in the newly acquired rental.  Settling in was far too boring for her. She was on vacation and she wished to see some of the sights. She was tired of being cooped up inside the house dealing with the mundane tasks of cleaning and child rearing.  So we gave in and determined we would go venture the unknown. I like to blame my mother for this decision, but the truth is, it was a wonderful excuse to escape the stark reality of setting up house and the endless list of things to do that seemed so very overwhelming at the time. Also, my toddler had turned from the cherubic little angel she was in Africa, to a screaming, tantrum throwing, fist beating monster child in Ireland.  I believe the turnaround in her personality was because the move was terribly unsettling for her and this was her way of telling us that right at that moment she really did not like us.  I think my mom was hoping beyond all else that one of us was not going to die of a coronary from the stress of it all. According to my Mom, a day out in the fresh air would do the child a world of good. So off we went.

The closest tourist attractions to where we stay in County Meath are the sights of the Boyne Valley. These include Bru Na Boinne, Monasterboice, Melifont Abbey, The Hills of Tara, The Hills of Rath, Battle of the Boyne and the world renowned UNESCO heritage site of Newgrange, Dowth and Knowth. We decided that the best day trip would most likely be the one that had the UNESCO stamp of approval on it. For the sake of clarity and unbridled honesty, I need to inform you upfront that at that time I was about as interested in history as I was in watching paint dry or a pot boil. Garreth loves his history, and of course Ireland is his playground as the rich history surrounding the country is endless. I had envisioned being dragged around all 84,431 square kilometres of the Emerald Isle suffering through several historical manifesto’s and tours of doom as we worked our way through “our” Irish bucket list of things to do and see.  Newgrange successfully changed me.  It awakened a historian in me I never knew existed. Such was my interest level in the subject matter surrounding the history and cultural phenomena of the mounds that I now look forward to these journeys with my hubby and children. I continuously need to chastise myself for not paying more attention in history class as my eldest daughter waxes lyrical about historical facts I simply have no knowledge of. I am now in the process of competing with my 11 year old in learning about the history of Ireland and who will know more when we visit these different places. All I can say is well done Newgrange, this was an unforeseeable and unlikely possibility that you miraculously pulled off!

Just a bit of background on Newgrange for those who are not familiar with the site.  With all the available information on the topic (none of which I had any knowledge of prior to my departure from South Africa) I could have written a doctorate thesis on the subject, however,  I have had to significantly reduced the explanation as to the sheer size and historical significance of it as I am sure you did not come here for a history lesson.  Briefly,  Newgrange is a prehistoric monument that was built during the Neolithic period around 3000BC.  The time period in which it was constructed officially makes it older than Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Giza.  The site consists of a large circular mound with a stone passageway and interior chambers. The mound has a retaining wall at the front and is ringed by engraved kerbstones. There have been various debates as to its original purpose. Many archaeologists believed that the monument had religious significance of some sort or another, either as a place of worship for a "cult of the dead" or for an astronomically-based faith. Please resist the urge to yawn as I continue.

I don’t think we could possibly have chosen a windier nor wetter day to do this tour. On the way to the site, my car was being beaten from side to side on the road by the wind.  In all fairness, my car is a tinier version of what I imagine Noddy and his cronies get around in on The Toyland Adventures.  Hubby looks like the Hunchback of Notre Dame cramped up red-faced under the roof of my mini Citroen and I need to resist the urge to laugh out loud each time he takes the wheel.  Walking up to the visitors centre I was immediately impressed.  The walkway was elegantly draped in a vine leaf overtop and the floors cladded in a lovely slate. We were greeted by a very chirpy Irish Lass identified by her name tag as Laura. UNESCO apparently also comes with a hefty price tag as we forked out several hundred Rands to dear Laura for the tour. For such a bad weather day,  the bus was relatively full as we embarked.  Little one was in high spirits as she pointed out various forms of livestock she was recognizing on the field.  Should  have known this merriment was too good to be true.  My daughter inherited from her grandfather what can only be described as a stomach that can rival the best  of a 21 gun salute when it gets started.  If you could bottle her gas emmissions,  you would be able to sell them to foreign countries as nuclear weapons of mass destruction.  While cheerily chanting “cheep, cheep, cheep” (sheep) she happened to let off one of these paint peeling tooters.  As the smell started wafting through the well occupied vehicle I had to hide my head in shame while trying to avoid the unhappy glares from the other travellers who had paid equally good money to see this attraction. After this incident the short bus trip felt like a life time and the end point could not come soon enough. As we eventually approached the mounds via the bus service, I could not help thinking that the apparent monument looked more like an anthill than a mound.  As we drew nearer, the great size of the mound became clear. The mound is 76 metres (249 ft) across and 12 metres (39 ft) high, and covers 4,500 square metres (1.1 acres) of ground. So it is a pretty large bump in the landscape!

As large as it was it still looked to me a bit like a flattened kidney shaped grain silo covered in a grass top.  The oddest looking building I have ever seen.  Granted, the strange silo did happen to be situated on a lovely  emerald field, grass swaying and dancing in the wind. To the left of us, stood a valley where a crisp stream flowed through it and devil birds plunged to find their food, and to the right was another open field with several red arsed sheep and blanketed horses grazing.   In front of us stretched miles and miles of open green country side dotted only by the occasional wooden fence, lonely cottage or orchard of trees.  As pretty as the scene was before me, the actual monument itself seemed weird and rather unimpressive.  While writing this description, my hubbys “don’t judge a book by its cover” post comes to the fore in my mind.

The tour guide was a “Ginger” fella. He talked with such enthusiasm about the mounds and their importance in Irish history that he failed to hold on to his hat which was subsequently blown away by the high winds. He also failed to take breaths through his soliloquies and at one point I thought he was going to pass out from the sheer excitement of it.  I will give it to him, he was rather amusing.  His story telling ability and the actual history behind the grass-covered silo were enough to make me forget about the now niggley toddler crying at my feet.  Even if only for a little while.

Inside the mound awaits a claustrophobic nightmare.  The thin passage way leading into the chambers and the low lying ceilings are not for the weak in kiln.  In fact, it was even suggested by the tour guide that if you suffer from a heart condition he would not suggest you venture into the structure.  As I made my way inside along with my very uncertain ankle biter, I did kind of feel the urge to turn around and run screaming back outside.  This urge had to be stifled however as behind me were toddler- lugging Italians (of course, theirs happened to be on their best behaviour) and in front of me….. God love him… a geezer who must have been one hundred and one and a day crawling on his hands and knees through the passage as his old back could not carry him.  I credit him for getting me through to the chambers on the other side as his heavy breathing became quite musical when focused on intently.  Once I passed the narrow passages into the open chamber I was not to be sorry. At the end of the passage lay three small chambers off a larger central chamber, with a high stone-capped roof. Each of the smaller chambers has a large flat "basin stone", which was where the bones of the dead were originally deposited. The walls of this passage are made up of large stone slabs and several are decorated with symbolic art works. Although the exterior has been subject to extensive preservation measures, the structure on the inside is perfectly preserved.  It is as it was in the Myolithic period.  It is a very rare event to see such an ancient structure that has barely been touched by preservation efforts over the years. The only difference from its original existence is the obvious removal of the remains of the buried. However, the tour guide is so effective in his descriptions you can actually imagine the skeletons as they were found by archaeologists all the years later.

The mound appears large on the outside, but is very small on the inside.  Such architecture and the subsequent covering of grass were the Myoliths way to ensure a waterproof final resting place for their loved ones.  Very clever indeed.  All along the inside stone walls are impressive hieroglyph like pictures that have been carved into the stone by the builders of the tomb. Each carving has some form of hidden meaning and was intricately chiselled out by the artisan of the day. So much time and effort went into creating perfection for the after-life of their dead.  It kind of makes me ashamed that with all our modern technology the best we can do is put our loved ones in a box in the ground or burn them and keep them in a jar on our mantle pieces and in turn promising the urn and interior ash content that one day when we are ready to let them go we will scatter them in a place they dearly loved. This seems very inefficient in comparison.

The main event and the actual allure of the monument is the way that the sun casts its rays during the winter solstice. Once a year at the winter solstice the rising sun shines directly along the long passage, illuminating the inner chamber and revealing the carvings inside, notably the triple spiral on the front wall of the chamber.  Current-day visitors to Newgrange are treated to a re-enactment of this event through the use of electric lights situated within the tomb. The finale of a Newgrange tour results in every tour member standing inside the tomb where the tour guide then turns off the lights, and lights the light bulb simulating the sun as it would appear on the winter solstice. A lottery is held annually for "tickets" to allow the holder into the tomb to view the actual event.

While the guide was trying to demonstrate what the winter solstice is supposed to look like via the light of a torch shining down the passage in the pitch black, my toddler proceeded to cause chaos within the tomb.  She successfully managed to bury the feet of 3 Chinese tourists  without them knowing while the lights were off, and climb onto a preserved grave,  and then into the ancient burial basin type thing,  all the while being told to shush by her very embarrassed parents,  (me of course).  Word to the wise, toddlers and small cramped spaces do not mix. They are like microwaves and marshmallows.  It seems like a great idea at the time; however in the end all you get is a sticky mess you have to physically extract off the inside walls while being looked at disapprovingly by bystanders who are likely wondering what the hell you were thinking conducting such an experiment in the first place. I think I was not the only relieved party to be exiting the building after said demo.  All tourists in attendance scattered like wild fire away from my mischievous minion thereafter. Even my mother.

The conclusion of the tour involved walking the perimeter of the whole mound and discovering the markings and drawings on the exterior walls of the building.  My mother walked in the complete opposite direction to us, and upon encountering us again mid -way along the circumference of the structure, she turned swiftly on her heel and hoofed it in the opposite direction pretending she did not even know us.  Oh the shame.  I didn’t blame her in the least. Anyway, we entered our tickets into the winter solstice lottery to try our luck at winning a space to view the light, however I do believe that the tour guide inadvertently “lost” our tickets.  God forbid we should win a space on the coveted winter solstice event, they really don’t want our kind at this exclusive do.  Needless to say we did not win. For now the light demonstration will need to suffice.  Maybe one day when I have gently nudged my fledglings from the nest, I will have the privilege of witnessing this personally. Until then I have my imagination and a 6 inch torch.

Back at the visitor’s centre, as we made our way to the canteen, a state of total confusion came over me. It was Mid February and the restaurant was decked to the nines in Christmas décor. There was a Christmas tree, mistletoe, tinsel and red christmas crackers on the table.  The ensemble was finished off by a table full of festively covered presents of different shapes and sizes. A few minutes later as we were drinking our coffee, in waltzed several well dressed and spritely elderly folk.  After a few minutes of watching these dear old couples take several selfies and pose for countless professionally captured photographs, curiosity got the best of me.  After a brief explanation from the Canteen Manageress, I learned that the Newgrange Visitors Centre sponsors a Christmas party for the local old age nursing home and because of December commitments, they only get around to hosting the Christmas party in February.  Ok then…. Mystery solved.  During the party shenanigans, it dawned on me that old men can be just as perverted as their younger counterparts, if not more. These elderly men openly gazed at all the younger woman’s breasts and cheekily nodded their heads in approval while thinking nobody was watching them.  I noticed this by chance as one of the old men started to flirt shamelessly with my mother.  My mother was quit a hit with the Irish men.  Don’t know if that is because of their friendly nature in general or if it is because she is a fresh piece of foreign meat splayed on the buffet.  I jokingly told her that this may very well be her last chance at happiness sitting in this room right here and best she makes her move. Needless to say she was less than amused.

On the way out of the visitors centre, there is a beautifully put together exhibit that showcases the highlights of the Newgrange, Howth and Dowth history. My mother was not interested in attending this at all having had her fair share on the tour of the grounds.  She preferred in this instance to go shopping for leprechaun momentos and luck of the Irish bric-a -brac in the gift shop down stairs.  I told her to meet me at the car when done with her peculiar shopping list. Upon entering the exhibit it is hard to know where to begin. Everything draws you to it. So I just stood there.  Whilst standing in the middle of this exhibit and closing your eyes, you can actually hear the crackling fire and picture what it was like to live 5000 years ago amongst the Neanderthals in their stone huts, with their stone tools, their sheepskin boots and hide covered bodies. The essence of their lifestyles is captured so perfectly you feel that you are as one with them. It was all I could do to restrain myself from climbing into one of the exhibit huts and taking a nap on the sheep skin covered stretcher.

After taking the vine covered path back to the car, I realized my mother was still not back yet .  Very odd, as I was at least 30 minutes in the exhibit. Surely the leprechaun and Irish charm goodies could not be that fascinating.? So I hot footed it back to the visitor centre to find the missing old duck .I searched all three floors of the visitor centre, the canteen and several bathrooms.  There was no sign of my mother.  I briefly considered that she may have snuck off for a secret tryst with that elderly resident of the nursing home.  God forbid.  On the way back to the car I notice her brown and orange head of hair bopping  up and down above the bushes.  Turns out she had taken the wrong exit out of the centre and had to walk a few miles around the outskirts of the grounds through wild brush and muddy fields. In the rain.  I silently laughed at her dilemma as I knew she was never in any real danger.  I would rate the elderly gentleman caller down in the canteen as more dangerous than being out in the Irish woods by herself.   As we all piled back into the Noddy car I realized that there is never truly a dull moment on a Thompson adventure. And would never want it any other way.

In conclusion, if visiting Ireland and you happen to find yourself in the Meath vicinity around the Bru Na Boinne. I would highly recommend a visit to Newgrange. It does not appear spectacular from the outside and you may wonder why you have potentially bankrupt yourself to see this strange looking lump,  but the inside holds a wonder you will love.  The tour guides are driven by their passion for the historical aspects of the structures, and convey this in an interesting and engaging manner.  The visitor centre is top class and the museum exhibit out of this world.  All this nestled in endless fields of lush greenery and a bus trip to boot.  You can’t go wrong.

Love and Light

C