»Do you know, why Irish have beaches?« our Polish acquaintance asked us, when my friend Katarina and I were discovering the beauty of Ireland. »To walk the dog,« she told us a joke she’d heard from a local jester. »So many beautiful beaches, but no swimming for mid-July is cold enough to wear long pants and a wind jacket,« she concluded. The natives of this green island think differently. The wind, with its sound enriched by the waves of the ocean and countless sheep, are perfectly put to use in the little private paradise tourists don’t know about – the biggest Irish island and holiday resort Achill.
It’s hard to find a typical tourist. The island that is connected with the mainland by a bridge, has three bus lines a day, that start at Westport. The roads are so narrow two cars can hardly meet, the speed is still limited to the high 100km/h.
»Silly donkey!« one of the locals said, when the bus stopped, because one of the numerous animals was slowly crossing the road. It crossed the road gracefully, not minding the others. “Everything is mixed up on this island,« a traveller with a strong Irish accent said. The bus driver honks at everybody to tell them hi and the passengers get off in front of their houses.
Among foreign tourists are German most numerous. “The writer Heinrich Böll made this island famous with his ‘Irish diary’« Barbel from Germany said. She lives with her island at south-west of Ireland and regularly comes to relax to Keel. »Böll first visited the island in late 50s and then stayed for many years in his cabin, famous today as the creators’ home,« she was talking about the Nobel prize winner and his influence over his readers, who meet annually here, to discuss his work.
»Are you coming to the pub tonight?« Shay, a very nice man, asked me and my friend, when we paid for the night at his hostel with a glorious view of the mighty cliffs. He did not ask for money when we arrived, like many owners across Europe might do. We had to find him, to pay him.
»You’ve came to the island at the right time, for we’re hosting a traditional festival of Irish culture, where musicians from both islands come together. It’s fabulous!« he Scottish woman Marie, a chemistry professor in Glasgow told us – she plays the flute. The living room of Shay’s hostel became a gathering place, from where we all headed down to the only pub in the village, where everybody gathered. »The number of people on the island doubles in the summer. Many people have their summer houses here. If you need to get a place for yourself and unwind, this is the right place,« a German woman Constanze, who used to go to courses of traditional Irish dances explained to us.
When the broadcast of hurling finished (which is together with rugby and »gaelic« football the most popular Irish sport) the musicians took their instruments. Eight of them (half) were from Shay hostel, and they started playing. It seemed we’re all one big family. And the door to our home was wide open to everybody …
Mojca Finc
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