1. At breakfast I came across three of the German guests, all burly men, sitting at their table in the B&B dining lounge. I said good morning, and they replied in kind, but with such guilty faces that it was like I'd interrupted their secret planning for their next invasion. I'll give the Germans credit though: they're all on a cycling trip, and four of them today rode to Croagh Patrick, climbed it (about a two hour ascent), came down and then went swimming.
2. When I die, I want it to be on Achill Island in the arms of an Irish maid. Preferably two. And she/they will just as likely be Polish or French. "You're a lovely young woman, and I hope you have good luck in Ireland," I said to to the waitress, who told me she was Polish, at a Westport restaurant. "Well, I've been here six years so far, so we'll see," she said. Something like 10 per cent of the population now is non-Irish: mainly foreign workers, most Eastern European, coming in through the EU to fill jobs when the Irish economy vaulted into the stratosphere (it's since come back to Earth). One of my tour guides today at Achill Island was from Germany. She had come here as a tourist, got addicted and decided to stay. I've heard more than a few stories like that here.
3. Spent an hour at Matt Molloy's, reputed to be the best bar for traditional Irish music in Westport. They had music going in two rooms: one with traditional musicians (a flutist and a banjo player) and another with more modern stuff. I sat in the traditional room. "What are you? American?" asked an old man who directed me to my seat when I first made the mistake of sitting in the corner where the musicians play. "Canadian," I replied. "Worse yet," he said and laughed. On my left were a couple from Germany. On my right a trio from England. Before long, a guy from New Jersey on his college graduation trip with a friend sat at our table. "I'm the only one in this bar who's Irish," said the old man. But before that, I met a group of young guys from Kerry -- "from the kingdom" said one,-- and they'd come up to Westport for a stag because one of them was getting married. At first they thought I was very tall and wondered how I fit under the doorway. Then they thought I was American, and when I explained I was Canadian, they asked me: have I been to Niagra Falls, what do I think of New Yorkers, do we have our own government. Most of it was joking. Much of it I couldn't understand. They, and the people I met after, suggest one never need be lonely in a traditional Irish gathering spot.
4. Achill Island: after a six hour tour today, I can confidently say: this is a place to holiday or retire. Relaxed pace of life, friendly people, scenery to take your breath away, excellent broadband.
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