Of ancestry and ghosts.
We arrive from Poland to Modena to pack up the daughter's University year into boxes and take them back to Auronzo. We have a couple of days there, her to say her goodbyes to friends and me to say my goodbyes to a city that has wrapped itself around me with it's class and beauty. I visit my favourite jewellery shop where the owner makes beautiful statement pieces out the back and buy one last piece. I have aperitivo with the girls at our favourite places, a Amarena cherry cocktail winning the award - served in a beautiful Amarena jar; have the best lightest pizza at the best pizzeria, thin and white with prosciutto, walnuts and a balsamic glaze.
And then we drive to the mountains, lunching at an Autostrada (a highway service station that has the best food and supermarket) and we're back in the snowy Alps unpacking and breathing in the iced mountain air and marvelling at the amount of snow that has fallen in our absence.
Since we have the car we go on a day trip to Misurina, the lake that we tried to get to once before and got caught in a snowstorm. They say it's safe to go today and it's worth the trip. We lunch on polenta and funghi and stare out at the snowy scenery, the glassy lake.
A few days later we leave Auronzo amidst disaster. I'm off to Ireland, the daughter to France but the daughter can't find her passport - a nightmare made manifest. It's so unusual as she's so organised this daughter of mine but the moving was stressful. She can't travel without it, even though it's an internal flight. She thinks she may have left it in Modena. We ring around, try to change our flights and then she thinks she might ask a friend to check at the apartment. I shake my head, the odds are so low that she can find a friend and that someone is at the apartment. She finds a friend, there's someone at her old apartment, they find the passport and bring it to her in Venice, a 6 hour round trip! We take this amazing girl out to lunch and are reminded that people are extraordinary. We finally take a deep breath and I head to Dublin, the daughter to Bordeaux.
The grilling at the airport in Dublin was very odd: why are you here, where are you staying, what will you be doing, what are your plans whilst here, do you have friends or family here? Wtf? I finally got out and boarded the bus to Barry's Hotel, an old worldly place of strange odours and slight mould issues, not an Irish accent to be had as most of the staff are from Eastern Europe but the room is fresh and clean.
I go to a recommended pub for the traditional prawns, brown bread and salad and seem to be surrounded by Americans and Italians and big TV screens with sport playing at the same time as an Irish band is belting out songs. I am feeling noise overload and make my escape.
The next day, I don my hat and do the tourist round, walking to Ha'penny bridge and across to where all the old pubs seem to exist.
On my way around, I discover the Nero chain of lovely homely cafes with lounges and good coffee and have a break. Caffeinated, I'm off again.
The pubs here are glorious I have to say, I'm on an early morning pub crawl but without imbibing. Eventually I come across the pub to end all pubs, Mulligan and Haines. I order a beautiful fish dish with celeriac cream from an Irish woman with red hair and admire the scenery; feeling like I'm Oscar Wilde, dropping by for a pint to get some ideas on his latest novel.
In the afternoon, I come across the famous Temple Bar but it is jam packed. I've walked until I can walk no more, it's definitely nap time. Later that evening, I go for another traditional dinner at the famed Beshoff's Fish and Chips. Again, the staff are either South American or European, the food a bit mediocre and I feel that I might need to escape to the countryside so book a tour for the next day.
We bus it through stark wintry countryside, had terrible scones at a stop that the bus takes but the medieval town of Kilkenny is cute. I eat at the oldest pub, Kytelers Inn, 1263. It's got an interesting history. It was run by Dame Alice, who in her lifetime had four wealthy husbands, who mostly died in suspicious circumstances. The last one changed his will on his deathbed, (after his hair and nails started falling out and he became sickly) ,leaving everything to her and his family accused her of witchcraft. Just before she was about to be burnt at the stake, some rich English friends got her into England where she was never heard of again. Her maid was burnt at the stake instead of her. They say her maid's spirit haunts the place.I have the fish cakes and then wander off to find the stunningly revamped Left Bank Pub and bar where I have a Creme Brulee with coconut crumbs which is superb.
Back in Dublin, I find the oldest pub there, 1613, have a NZ wine and chips. But I have to say I'm glad to be moving on tomorrow. Although I am of Irish ancestry on both sides, I'm not connecting here. My daughter came and loved it here but my spirit is essentially Italian. I'm off to Venice tomorrow.
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