Gland V. Galway

Galway, Ireland

I’m standing at one of the most westerly point of Ireland, of the whole British Isles in fact, looking out from a cliff top at the edge of Europe toward the North Atlantic Ocean.

I am told that, on a good day, this view and its accompanying sunset, can rival the spectacle of watching solar wind disperse across Esda. I am told that this is the view that will mark the West of Ireland out as a galactic destination. But today, there is no grand panorama. Only mist and dust and a couple of miserable looking seabirds circling above. Today there is not so much as a horizon, just a smudge of grey fog tapering to the monochrome sea, drudging away beneath us.

A sign on a blackened, rusted, moss-warped post box says: Please Make A Contribution (Recommended £5) So That Future Generations May Continue To Enjoy These Cliffs. The capital lettered words have all the confidence of Ozymandias. The idea of an entire planet running on physical currency – coins and notes – seems so alien now that it’s impossible to imagine that this sign is unironic, blind to its own inadequacies. The faith in language, the faith in moral duty that these words rely upon has all but turned to salt.

The weather is greenish and cold. It doesn’t stop raining as we walk back along the cliffs of Mohair. The rock is a deep grainy black, rising out of the dull grey water.

And for all it’s grimness, I must confess that Ireland is pretty much how I imagined it to be. Dowsed in rain and a kind of nostalgic misery. We traipse along the cliff top in single file because the path is thin and badly maintained. At points we have to hold on to the fence and shuffle past a gap where the ground falls away to the sea.

The hotel is the only two-star hotel in Ireland. It is the only any-star hotel in Ireland. It has been built in to the shell of Ballinahinch Castle. The moat, which I discover is a newly-built feature, doubles as a fresh-water pool. Each room is named after an Irish landowning family. I am in the Herbert room. Some quick wiki-research tells me that the Herbert family made their fortune exploiting Irish copper mines and Irish copper miners. The Conal Group, who own the hotel, do not seem to think this in poor taste.

In the main hall, there’s a top-end Celtic fusion restaurant. It is high season here and yet the restaurant is less than half full. The press release states that it is only the hotel’s second year, and they are still building a reputation. The Conal Group expect interest in ‘The Celtic Experience’ to increase as more and more people seek to discover their racial origins.

I am fed Irish stew and pints of Guinness: a black beer that sits in my gut like a dishcloth. The waitress reads me the specials off a blackboard, speaking in a peculiar Irish lilt. I detect another accent trying to break out. I recognise something in her voice as being East Aiolian.

Since she’s not exactly rushed off her feet, I take the opportunity to ask her a few questions.

“What is it that you like about Galway?” I ask.

“I loik it here,” she says, as if that is an answer.

“Okay. What do you like?”

“The be-youtiful scenery and the fresh air,” she says, quickly.

She looks a bit nervous.

“Right,” I say.

She tries to smile.

“What else do you like?” I ask.

At this, she clears my plate away.

Later, I find my waitress with a few other off-duty staff at the large cosily furnished lounge bar. I buy her, and her friends, a couple of Irish coffees. I tell her what my impressions of Galway have been so far. She scratches her arm as I talk. Eventually, she explains why she is really here. The Conal Group have a rating system for their hotels. If you work six months in a Grade 6 Hotel like Ballinahinch Castle, you can spend the following six months working in a Grade 1 Hotel, like The Opus Lounge in Esha, changing the sheets of the rich and famous by day, and trying to marry or sleep with them by night.

“How long have you got left here?” I ask.

She smiles, a genuine smile.

“Free weeks,” she says, letting her broad backstreet-Aio drawl return.

I enquire about her shifting accent and, after a little prompting, she tells me that, in ‘unstable districts’, the Conal Group do not employ any of the local population. Instead, they send all their staff on a two-week ‘local flavour’ crash course, where they learn manners, history and dialect.

Staring out my window on to a lank dog drinking from the fresh water moat, I think that the only way they are going to get a decent tourism industry here is if they market it as Counter-Tourism. Stay in Galway to discover why you stay away. Discover new things that you like about the place you live: Visit Ireland.

Some parts of Earth need not be rediscovered.

Pim Tandor will be reporting from Britain for the last time, next week. In his final instalment he visits: Cornwall. Flights to Ely, England run once a week from Aio and twice monthly from Lis. A guide is essential and can be arranged in advance.