The Burren, the Cliffs of Moher, and the real-life Quiet Man

Welcome back! I have been happily busy enjoying the sights and sounds of Galway, the Aran Islands, and Killarney National Park. Newly arrived in Dingle, I finally have a bit of time to catch up on all that has happened.

I spent my last day in Galway on a bus tour of the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher. The Burren is known for its "lunar landscape" and the diversity of tiny flowers that grow between the cracks. The landscape is incredibly rocky, with enormous slabs of stone as well as boulders and the like. It was impressively weird but I wish we had been better informed about its mysterious appearance and its flowers. Mostly we drove through it. Oh well.

In the afternoon we visited the Cliffs of Moher, one of the most famous natural wonders of Ireland. I'll admit, the 700 foot sheer faces of rock are fairly impressive. One after another they fall in line with each other, jutting out into the ocean and practically begging you to drop your jaw in amazement. With the new walkway and barrier, you are very safely kept away from the edge of the cliffs, but this also spoils some of the view and most of the natural power of the site. Still, I understand why they put up the barrier- the wind is INcredible! Before arriving, I had scoffed at the idea that a strong gust could blow someone over the edge, but that scepticism was literally blown away when I arrived at the top!! While I was safely admiring the view, a rescue boat and a helicopter came into view and zoomed along the cliffs ominously. I wondered if it was just a practice run but later our driver explained that a german had gone missing. A somber end to our little excursion.

Things didn't brighten up that night when I went out to a pub for some live music and craic (good fun and conversation). There was an empty seat at the bar so I took it and ordered my (now usual) half-pint of cider. On my left was an incredibly handsome young man, dressed in a somewhat old-fashioned style, with courdoroy pants, a shirt and vest, and an irish old-man cap (could anyone tell me what is the real name for this cap??). Needless to say, I was very impressed and looked forward to striking up a conversation.

But the conversation never started. He was stone silent, seemingly deliberately so. And for some reason, that just made me more determined. It was like a staring contest, only this was a silence contest, and whoever caved in and talked first was the loser. I don't think he knew he was playing. I don't know what he was thinking. I was thinking, "I am an attractive young woman, why are you not talking to me?" Thank God the music started and I had something to look at besides my glass. Still, I was very aware of his silence. His silence was so strong, when I considered folding and saying something, I was struck dumb in the void of anything worth saying to break it.

Then, after about two hours, an old man who was dressed very similarly to the "quiet man" (as I had now nicknamed him) entered the pub and came over to the bar. He greeted the quiet man in Gaelic and the quiet man answered- they clearly knew each other. Then the old man nodded to me and said something in Gaelic and I gave a warm hello. From there the old man said something else to the quiet man, they both looked at me, and then they chuckled together! I was speechless, and this time not on purpose. What had just happened? What had they said? I never got to find out, as the quiet man abruptly got up and left soon after. I had never spoken a word, but it still felt like he had won.

Lost in thought, I looked in the direction of the old man, who was still there. Could I talk to him, or ask him about the quiet man? Should I? While pondering this, my absent gaze was intercepted by a burly Australian man with a hideous mohawk. Of course, he didn't believe me when I said I was actually looking at the 90 year old next to him. Thought it was a joke. Ha ha. My evening thoroughly thwarted, I left. Luckily the next day held much greater things in store...