Tuesday, August 14
Well, the voyage got off to a rough start, which should have been my first good clue. Ten minutes into my flight to Shannon, Ireland, my conversation with the French woman next to me was interrupted by an announcement asking for a doctor on the plane. It seemed that one of the passengers behind me was sick. As the stewardesses appeared to be managing the situation, I was not too concerned. My conversation with the French woman continued. She proved to be extremely kind. In her early 40’s, she was traveling with her husband and two children to visit Ireland for the first time. Like most all French woman, she had a certain style about her and was in amazing shape for her age. Just as I was beginning to talk about my studies, I decided to take a peak at the sick passenger behind me only to discover that the stewardesses were now performing CPR! The captain soon announced that we had a medical emergency on our hands and that we would be landing in Nantes so that medical authorities could address the situation. I was in shock. A strange overtook the plane. It was becoming painfully clear, that we were witnessing a man’s death. The heroic efforts of the stewardesses were both impressive and disturbing, as we were painfully reminded of life’s fragility. The passengers fell silent and only the counting of the breaths and compressions could be heard. Fifteen minutes later we landed in Nantes, but I it was all too late. The middle aged man left our plane in a stretcher, his daughter and granddaughter in tears. I imagine that he must have had a heart attack, but the events were never made clear. An hour later, we arrived in Ireland.
After getting off the plane, I was met by Loïs in the airport whose eternally optimistic demeanor helped to lift the mood. Sinead, the daughter in the Irish family with whom Loïs was performing his internship, brought me back to the small town of Killorglin. In the car, the charming Irish country side was a site for sore eyes. We arrived at the small farmhouse as the sun was setting on the Irish horizon. After what was a quick introduction to the family: Wilma, John and their three children; Sinead, Sean and Rikis; I hit the hay.
Wednesday, August 15
I woke up the next day to take in my surroundings for the first time in the daylight. The small farmhouse was not quite as charming as it had seemed. It was more of a dilapidated, small farmhouse undergoing a series of construction projects that did not seem to be in any rush to be finished; not to mention, there were also a good bit of house chores that were in need of attending. However, what the house lacked in sensible hygiene, the view made up for in beauty. The Irish countryside was really something to behold. Thus far, I have never seen anything that compares.
I had decided to shadow Loïs as he worked around the small dairy farm. Today was cheese making day and we were headed to the small shop just outside the house where fresh milk had just been poured into the large vat. We pasteurized the milk, then added bacteria and heated it again until small bits of cheese began to form; a process which took up a good part of the afternoon. After essentially dehydrating the milk, we drained out the liquid and put the bits of cheese into larger round cheese molds which were then compressed by weights. They were to be left undisturbed until the next day.
It was now cow time! I would soon learn that the best thing about cow time was that shortly after, it was chow time! Anyhow, we were off to the fields. Luckily for us, Ireland’s reputation for rain would not disappoint, so the ground was nice and muddy. Loïs cried out ‘dogs’ in a French accent and three border collies came out of nowhere and beat us to the pasture. The dogs had the cattle rounded up and were working them to towards the gate. Once we arrived we had to escort the ‘ladies’ out of the pasture walk them through the mud and rain. They were then lead into the dairy, where all but the two heifers were to be milked; about twenty cows in total. Having always imagined that this would be done by hand, I was presently surprised to find that a milking machine allowed us to milk four cows at a time. The process was simple: wipe the mud off of the utters, gently caress the cow’s leg to give her a bit of a warning and stick on the plastic suckers that would carry the milk to a larger bin behind the dairy. There was only one rule: don’t get kicked! My first time milking a cow and I did eight in one shot. Not too shabby.
Just as we were finishing up, Rikis, the youngest son, came in to tell us to hurry up because they were going to town for a drink. Smelling like cow and covered in mud, I was hardly excited, but I figured I could not be in Ireland and avoid the pubs. Two hours later, I decided that perhaps I could be in Ireland and avoid the pubs. Guinness is good, but it ain’t free!
Thursday, August 16
I slept in late. It was a pretty low key day. The cheese was put into a salt solution in order to keep it to keep it protected and then the cows were attended to in the evening. On the way back, we saw to most beautiful rainbow. We could see both ends of the arc as it stretched across the sky. I finally understood where the Irish legends came from. It was absolutely stunning.
I was already growing accustomed to Wilma’s style of cooking: baked beans and meat. I do not know how Loïs handled it so well after having grown up in a town like Toulouse where cuisine is taking so seriously.
Well, up until this point, I had been avoided the whole shower situation, but it was becoming clear that this could not be put off any longer. As I was looking at the spider webs surrounding the toothbrushes and various toiletries on top of the sink, I was thinking to myself, “Do they ever use these items or is it just for effect?” My train of thought was interrupted by the giant spider that seemed to respond, “Just for the effect.” It was so big that I am pretty sure I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of its eyes. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I was brushing my teeth when a slug started to climb out of the sink whole. No joke. Needless to say the shower was an event in and of itself! I am not really sure if I was cleaner before or after.
Friday, August 17
The following day we had a job. There was a fair in town and Loïs and I were to tend the bouncy castles for the hoards of Irish kids. The job was simple enough. Don’t let too many kids bounce at one time; have them take of their shoes; and make sure they leave in the same condition they arrived.
During the fare, I got to see my first Irish dancing. The girls were so impressive. Their tiny legs acted like pogo sticks and their pipe curls seemed to accentuate the movement. All and all the fair was a good deal. Loïs and I made forty Euros each, which was enough to pay off the Guinness from the night before.
That night we painted the cheese. The edible paint is the white coating that hardens with the cheese and protects it from the wrong kinds of mold. Once we had finished, we were asked if we wanted to take a ride on the horse. After a quick trot around the dairy, it was cow time, chow time and then bedtime.
Saturday, August 18
Today was the big weekly even of going to the market. Held inside of the Old Anglican Church in Milltown, Kerry, we sold the cheeses that had been made two years earlier. My favorite was the white goat cheese with Italian herbs. 
The church was absolutely beautiful. Entirely made of stone from the medieval period, it seemed a shame to hold a market there. I kept thinking of when Jesus overturned the tables in the Bible. In any case, we were surrounded by other vendors of local organic goods. Organic wines, breads, meats, cheeses and even wheat grass could be found. 
After what was a pretty good sale, Sinead took us for a drive through the country. We were accompanied by a Scotsman who was a friend of hers. Between their two accents, mine and Loïs’ it is a wonder we were ever able to understand each other. It was just as well because the Irish countryside left us speechless. Sinead took us to the Torc Waterfall and then to the Killarney Lakes. The greenery was absolutely breathtaking. There is something mystical about the land. It is no wonder stories of leprechauns and pots of gold filled the imaginations of those who lived there. I am in no rush to get back, but I am glad I went. 
No comments:
Post a Comment