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