Column: Splendid Irish People

Ireland takeaway: Splendid People

Third in a four-column series on my recent travels to Ireland to explore my distant family roots and much more.

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            In the southern Irish town of Clonakilty, a plaque below a statue of famed patriot Michael Collins bears the final entry in his diary from August 21, 1922, the day before he was assassinated: “The People Are Splendid.”

Lisa and I at the breathtaking Cliffs of Moher.

Lisa and I at the breathtaking Cliffs of Moher.

During my wife’s and my recent fortnight in Ireland those words proved emblematic. The people we met were splendid, indeed.

And, in deed, from journey’s start to finish. Wheeling our suitcases in downtown Dublin the night we arrived we got lost looking for our hotel. Struggling with a map and double-checking street signs we must have looked pitifully confused even for tourists.

Suddenly four people jaywalked over to ask if we needed help. Instead of offering directions, they walked us to the hotel. A similar kindness later happened when we arrived in Limerick.

Yes, time and again the Irish made even famously amiable Midwesterners seem grouchy by comparison.

At St. James’s Gate Guinness Brewery, Jenny, a lovely young woman whose accent was as thick as she was thin, took a full 10 minutes to ring us up in the gift shop because she was so busy conversing. Learning we were headed to County Cork, her hometown and the land of my distant family roots, she told us about a hidden gem of a café – and drew a map – where we “must” have an authentic Irish breakfast.

In Cork City, the taxi ride from the train station to our hotel proved unforgettable not just because our driver spoke even faster than he drove but because he turned down a tip. I insisted; again he refused, saying warmly: “You paid me fairly. Have a brilliant time!”

Another brilliant example of Irish kindness occurred during a tour of Old Galway City in an open-top double-deck bus. At a stop midway out, two middle-aged women stepped on thinking it was a public bus. Told it was not, they asked where they could catch one because their friend was waiting for them at the city square.

“I’ll take you,” the bus driver cheerfully responded and refused to accept any fare.

Kissing "a tall, dark blonde in a gold dress."

Kissing “a tall, dark blonde in a gold dress.”

On the drive to Bunratty Castle our cabbie, Patrick Murphy – who was as perfectly Irish as his name suggests – patiently explained the native sport hurling. He also told me, with a wink to my wife, of a favorite nearby pub where I could have “an affair with a tall, dark blonde in a gold dress” while waiting for a return taxi.

This, he noted, is how locals order a Guinness in reference to the legendary stout’s ebony color and light head served in a trademark pint glass with a gold-leaf harp logo.

Over and again, we found that even more important than the places you visit are the people you meet. And not just the locals.

Our final night, Lisa and I went to a pub for dinner and surprisingly saw a familiar face. Seated alone was a man who had been on our Cliffs of Moher bus tour several days prior. We invited him to join us.

What a memorable ending to an unforgettable trip the evening became.

A French Canadian from Quebec, Jasan was originally a forestry engineer before switching careers a few years ago at age 60 to become a suicide prevention counselor and university professor on the subject.

The seeds for this fascinating life path detour were planted decades earlier.

About 30 years ago, when a temporary home was needed for an abandoned infant from Senegal in West Africa, Jasan, who is white and has never married, opened his home. Too, he opened his heart and soon legally adopted the boy.

Five years later, Jasan adopted not one more child in need, but eight 10- and 11-year-old girl refugees from Vietnam. The fact that three of his new daughters had relatives who had committed suicide eventually led Jasan into his new career.

“It makes me happy to help others,” Jasan, now a grandfather more than a dozen times over, shared.

Michael Collins was right: People are splendid.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

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