Ancestral lands

My beautiful, temporary little vehicle was turned South. Like a typical Aussie, I planned to see the whole of Ireland in a weekend. I left Limerick and ended up in the main street of Killarney. What a cool place. It looked like a film set from some corny Irish movie, with the main street swung with bunting and Irish pipes blaring. What is clear in Ireland is the people are just fantastic. I have never felt so welcome anywhere. People just talk to you non-stop – standing at the ATM an intense conversation, queuing at the loo, more great conversation, wandering aimlessly,  accosted for half an hour to hear about the relatives in Killarney, Victoria. Made the mistake of saying that I had family in Killarney, Australia who came from the South in Ireland – a three-hour conversation, with everyone on the street pulled into it asking me whether I knew the Murphy’s and every other Irish surname ever known. OMG I made the mistake (when I was asked) and gave my surname  – oh dear they started again. I finally turned the car to the Ring of Kerry after being invited to stay by random people in the street. The drive was lovely. Of course, the Irish weather turned in 5 minutes and I found myself on steep hills completely surrounded by mist. As I stood on ancestral lands my imagination ran wild. I couldn’t see two feet in front of me and then all of a sudden, the sun would break through, with great shards of light. I was totally convinced I could see deannaigh fairy rising from the mounds – I am sure the wee siog were hiding, desperate for a chat.