In the hills of Donegal

The Olde Castle Bar

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Myself and 'Brian McFadden' at the Olde Castle Bar

getting friendly with the locals at the Reel Inn.  United Irishmen poster behind us which was a topic of conversation.

the band playing all the traditional Irish music

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The Reel Inn Bar - packed on a Sunday night

Curing the hangover with a spot of bodyboarding at Rossnowlagh

Walking the Rougey Cliff Walk at Bundoran

Watching the surfers catching the waves at Bundoran from the cliffs.

My boyfriend Gerry and I went to Donegal for a weekend here's what happened....

I could spin you a story about how I decided Ireland was as good a place as any to holiday, drone on about how it is so full of beauty, charisma and craic - where else would I want to go?  But I’ll not patronise you.  As much as I adore the Emerald Isle, and as much as it does possess breathtaking beauty, oozes charisma and is no doubt brimming full of craic, for me a holiday is about getting away to the sun.  It’s about getting as brown as is humanly possibly and returning home to lots of lovely compliments where you spend the next few happy weeks responding to these compliments with the obligatory: “Tan?  Please I’m as white as could be, sure wasn’t it overcast for the first week.”  So let’s be honest, Ireland is a lot of things, but sunny it is not.  Therefore, I am not an advocate of the whole ‘staycation’ craze nor, I suspect, is anyone else, but they’re more than likely as skint as the rest of us and are putting a funky label on it to make it sound as though they’re actually choosing to holiday here.  A pathetic excuse of a bank balance gave me no choice in the matter; a holiday at home was all I’d be having this year.

And now the dilemma of where to go?  Out came the map and so began the suggestions aka bickering session.  Kerry, Cork, Limerick, Tipperary, Clare and Waterford were all out because they were too far, so in short all of Munster.  All of the southeast was out i.e. Leinster because we heard the west coast had better surf.  Practically all of Northern Ireland was out because: ‘sure that’s where we live’ (yes we occupy the entire country apparently), and Galway was a no-no because we’d been there twice in the past year.  Finally, our eyes fell upon Donegal and we came to an agreement.

We booked a couple of nights in a cute looking B&B just a short walk from Donegal town, grabbed the wetsuits, body boards and set off for the 100 mile (or thereabouts) drive, arriving just over two and a half hours later and finding our quaint little lodgings without difficulty.

The B&B was a family home, run by a husband and wife team.  A large, smiley lady answered the door and by way of greeting said “b’Jaysis aren’t you the double of Brian McFadden?” (She was talking to Gerry of course, at least I hope so)  “Paddy!” she bellowed, “Paddy come here ‘til you see this young fella, he’s the spit of Brian McFadden he is.”  A short, smiley, round man who I’m guessing must have been Paddy came to the hall, “Jaypers you are surely.”  I loved them both instantly. 

After we had all calmed down over Gerry’s likeness to Brian McFadden, (‘It’s the eyes’), and learned that the lady (Dorothy) actually knew Brian McFadden, ‘I was a good friend of his mothers, he’s a big gentle, quiet soul ya know’ we dumped our bags down in our small, but pleasant and tidy room and made for the town.

It was late Sunday afternoon by the time we ventured into Donegal for a mosey, expecting it to be a little sleepy, (after all who isn’t sleepy on a Sunday afternoon?)  we were surprised to see the place buzzing with atmosphere, especially as quite a few of the shops were closed.  Traffic was busy, the car park by the tourist centre was full, the shops that were open had plenty of customers and it goes without saying that the pubs were hiving with tourists and locals having lunch or just enjoying a drink.  After a stroll along the town and a look at some of the beautiful merchandise in the shops, we went into The Olde Castle Bar, a traditional Irish Pub in the town centre for a spot of lunch and a much anticipated pint of the black stuff.

They had an impressive menu, lots of fresh locally caught seafood on offer, steaks, chicken, salad, good ol’ hearty meals such as boiled bacon and cabbage and quite an extensive vegetarian option too, I noticed.  I opted for the seafood pie and Brian McFadden went for the beef burger.  Service was friendly and prompt despite the busyness, and the food didn’t disappoint.  My seafood pie was brimming with local seafood fresh from the boat, including mussels, prawns and salmon in a creamy sauce, topped off with a thick coating of creamy cheesy mash.  Gerry’s beef burger was more a ball of beef to be honest, a thick cut portion of good quality beef with melted cheese and proper, thick cut chips.

Pleasantly full and a little tired, we went home for a snooze, shower and quick change before heading out to sample Donegal’s famous nightlife.  The town has at least 15 pubs (I never did get round to counting them) within its square mile and we started at the bottom of the town working our way to the Reel Inn pub to end the night with a spot of traditional Irish music.  The Reel Inn is very deceiving.  From the outside it looks tiny and run down, even when you get up close and realise it is a pub it doesn’t do much to entice you in.  We had it on good authority (Dorothy) that it was a ‘deadly night’s craic’ and ventured in anyway and boy am I glad we did.  The pub is long and narrow and kitted out with flags, pictures, musical instruments and other Irish memorabilia.  It isn’t fancy or stylish; it’s old, charming and full of character.  By 10.30pm the band had started and the pub was packed and before too long we were chatting to all the friendly locals. 

“Doesn’t anybody have work in the morning?”  I asked.

“Aye probably.”  Said my new local friend.  Fair enough.

Something which struck me about the atmosphere was there was a very united, friendly, laid back feel.  Plenty were drunk, but none were disorderly, locals and tourists were as one, there was no division.  I asked one of the locals who had moved to Donegal from Belfast 40 years ago, why he did so: “To get away from all the bigotry, you don’t get any of that down here.”  He then showed me the poster on the wall of the united Irishmen and read the famous quote from Wolfe Tone with particular emphasis on the last line which read: ‘To unite the whole people of Ireland, to abolish the memory of all past dissentions, and to substitute the common name of Irishman, in the place of the denominations of Protestant, Catholic, and Dissenter - these were my means’. 

“You see” said the local “People don’t care what you are down here, that’s our mentality; protestant, catholic or dissenter we are all Irish.”

By midnight the band was in full swing and I was having a fantastic time.  The music was great, it was a typical Irish shindig, the band enthusiastically belted out all the favourites; Sweet Sixteen, Seven Drunken Nights, Galway Girl and many others all telling the story of Ireland’s triumphs, troubles, joys and heartache.  They were paid, and happily so, in pints of Guinness and hearty applause, the crowds sang along, an old man tortured all the women individually for a dance (there’s always one) and eventually people in the crowd took to the mike, thinking in their drink fuelled state they were Christy Moore.  All in all it was a great night’s craic.

The next morning, suitably rough and hungover I made my way downstairs for a satisfying and much needed breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, tea, toast and the customary fry.

“Where’s Brian McFadden?” asked Dorothy. 

“Dying” I said. 

She laughed a big bellowing laugh and said “Sure isn’t it great!” 

Only one thing would cure us both: an afternoon bodyboarding the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean at Rossnowlagh beach.

Rossnowlagh is a short 10 mile drive away from Donegal town and is a blue flag surfing beach which is lifeguarded during July and August from 11am – 7pm.  It offers 4km of golden sand which you can access by car without fear of getting stuck.  When we arrived there were about 50 cars on the beach, around 70 surfers in the water, four ice cream vans stationed and happily, I noted, there was very little wind yet the waves were huge, hence the large numbers of surfers.  We spent a good couple of hours surfing the waves until all the exertion, coupled with a lingering hangover had us leaving in pursuit of chips.  We drove less than 10 miles to get to Bundoran, the south’s answer to Portrush, but in my opinion with better surf and a more impressive coastal walk in the form of Rougey Cliff Walk.

The Rougey Cliff walk, affectionately known as ‘Rougey’ is a 4.5 km circular walk offering stunning views of yep you guessed it, the cliffs and the Ocean.  Gerry and I took our bag of chips for a walk and perched on the grassy cliffs taking in the salt air and watching the surfers, egging them on when big waves came and laughing heartily when they fell.  We sat happily for an hour and both decided that we’d be back next weekend for another go.  That’s the thing about staycations; you don’t get the post holiday blues as you’re only a car drive away.



*We stayed at Haywoods B&B 60 euro per night per double room.

 

Fascinating and unforgettable! (Published in NI Travel News July 2011)



Feeling the heat in the Judean Desert

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Pilgrims offering their devotions at the Western Wall

View of Jerusalem from the City of David

colourful spices at the Carmel Market

Superb food, lively nightlife, and of course stunning if a little over-commercialised Biblical sites...Israel has it all.
When I first told people I was going to Israel the most common response was, “Really? Is it safe?” I admit I once had these preconceived ideas too until I met a couple from Jerusalem along my travels a couple of years ago and bombarded them with similar, totally ignorant questions, “Is it safe?” “As a Jew surely you don’t have any Muslim friends, right?”
In turn they asked me questions about Northern Ireland, “Is there still a war between you and England?” and exclaimed in surprise when I revealed my boyfriend and I were from different sides of the religious divide here. After this my opinion of Israel changed and I learned to look past the images I saw on Sky News.

Therefore I set off with a distinct lack of reservations which unfortunately didn’t last long. I didn’t exactly get off to the greatest of starts when in Luton airport I was accosted by staff from El Al airlines and questioned intensely as to my reason for my visit. After I had given what I felt were more than satisfactory answers, they proceeded to plonk a large sticker on my bag stating something in Hebrew which must I believe have said something along the lines of “suspect terrorist” as later when I prepared to board I was taken into a forbidding, clinical room where my bag was taken behind a curtain and the contents turned inside out by a team of staff. However, I really shouldn’t complain as my fellow journalist apparently looked to them like someone who might be carrying a bomb in his underpants (if you catch my drift) so all things considered I got off lightly. Apparently this is all very run of the mill and we should have expected no less, but it was very disconcerting nonetheless. Fortunately, this was the only negative aspect of the entire trip, but one which I feel must be mentioned all the same.

Myself and three other journalists began our trip in Tel Aviv, the party capital of Israel, “In Haifa we work, in Jerusalem we pray and in Tel Aviv we play!” Alice, my tour guide informed me. I was immediately impressed with Tel Aviv, it’s a trendy, lively city full of atmosphere. It’s packed with restaurants, bars, coffee shops, beaches, beautiful people and is home to one of the biggest open air markets in the middle east – the Carmel Market. Here you can buy everything from colourful spices to scarves, freshly baked bread and jewellery to fish heads, if you should ever feel the need. The market is loud, bustling and great fun. There is a laid back vibe in Tel Aviv generally and I fell in love with it instantly.

As mentioned, Tel Aviv is famed for its nightlife and therefore it would have been rude not to sample it. Throngs of people bring the city to life packing out the many bars, cocktail lounges, clubs, restaurants and wine bars, continuing till dawn. The bars we sampled all had a friendly, cosmopolitan atmosphere and three things were very prominent – I felt very safe, everyone was sickeningly beautiful and; although everyone was drinking no one was drunk.

Our first meal in Tel Aviv sparked our week long obsession with food throughout the remainder of our trip. In fact, it is fair to say that the food overall was a definite highlight. I’m not ashamed to admit that the meal I had in one particular restaurant (Uri Buri in Acco) beat visiting Golgotha (where Christ was crucified) and I’m quite a spiritual person! Yes, food in Israel is superb, a fusion of French, Turkish, Indian, Morroccan - the list goes on; spanning 3,000 years of tradition and culture, it’s as varied and rich as its population.


Leaving the modern world behind us, we ventured to the first of many U.N.E.S.C.O world heritage sites, Tel Megiddo, or as it is often referred to – Armageddon. It is an impressive site with an even more impressive story. Megiddo was a city 5,000 years ago, it was conquered by the Egyptians, Canaanites, King Solomon and King Ahab before finally being demolished by the Egyptians. The site has been excavated three times and the remains of the city’s gates and King Ahab’s stables can be seen today. It is believed that it is here the final battle will take place marking the end of the world. Tel Megiddo is just the tip of the iceberg as far as the long and complicated history of Israel goes.

Jerusalem

For many, Jerusalem is the place which holds the most interest when visiting Israel. It’s a place of spiritual significance for Jews, Christians and Muslims. As a person of strong spiritual Christian belief naturally I was most looking forward to visiting Jerusalem. What a fascinating city, unique in its blend of history, tradition, faith and culture which is characterised by the image of young girls in soldiers’ uniforms walking down the street with guns slung over one shoulder and a Louis Vuitton handbag on the other. Passing the stalls in the Jewish corner you’ll see t-shirts hanging with slogans “don’t worry America, Israel is behind you” yet less than 10 metres away in the Arab quarter are t-shirts brandishing “Free Palestine”. Jerusalem’s streets are a vibrant mix of all cultures and it’s refreshing to see how all faiths live so harmoniously together.

The heart of the city is the old city, which is surrounded by its beautiful ancient walls and split between the four religious quarters; Christian, Jewish, Armenian and Muslim. The walls envelop some of the holiest sites in the world which attract millions of worshippers worldwide. The Western Wall (often referred to as the wailing wall) is an imposing site and the most sacred to the Jews. Even if you aren’t religious it is hard to not be stirred by it. Hundreds of people line up to touch it and pray, many pop little notes in the crevices of the wall and the atmosphere and expression on peoples faces is one that is filled with emotion. It is very moving.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the other holy Christian sites. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher encompasses Christian relics including the anointing stone which is where Jesus’ body was laid before his burial, Jesus’ grave and what is believed to be the point where Christ was crucified. Hoards of tourists swarm the church and the whole area has been completely commercialised. The supposed place of Christ’s crucifixion is dripping with gold accessories, candles and marble, which for me took away from the whole experience. There’s no denying the importance it held for others however as women knelt down beside the anointing stone to kiss it, touch it and even rub clothes on it, with sheer emotion etched on their face. Although I didn’t find it moving myself it was interesting and lovely to see how it affected others. Another reason preventing me from being caught up in the emotion was my tour guide’s comments over the debate and uncertainty of where Christ actually was crucified, “Of course many people argue this is not where Christ died at all” erm…ok then.

The Via Dolorosa is, according to Christian tradition, the final path Jesus took which led him from the courthouse to Golgotha where he was crucified. The path has 14 ‘stations of the cross’, each one marking a moment of significance i.e the point where Jesus saw Mary, or when he fell etc. Again this experience was somewhat ruined by Alice’s confession that the 3rd station of the cross was actually moved from the original position because a man wanted to open a stall there. This knowledge, combined with market traders trying to sell you their merchandise as you walk along the path, somewhat took away from the experience.

The City of David however, provided a truly unforgettable experience. Wondering around the ancient remains where over 3000 years ago King David established his kingdom was a real highlight. The city holds the evidence of many stories spanning thousands of years of wars, prophets and kings in its stony remains. Within the city of David there are tales of so many events that it is quite overwhelming and very hard to take in the breadth of history it encompasses. The remains of what are believed to be King David’s palace can be seen along with the spectacular craftsmanship of King Hezekiah’s tunnel. This 500 metre long tunnel was carved out during King Hezekiah’s reign by groups of men starting at opposite ends and meeting in the middle; an unbelievable feat. The tunnel is partly filled with water, pitch black and offers an incredible and authentic experience of how these men moved around the city when under siege. It takes roughly 30 minutes to wade your way through, but as four of us had one small torch in the form of a keyring between us, we made it through in record time of 15 minutes as we were keen to get to the light. The boys’ rendition of the Indiana Jones’ theme tune also served as a reinforcement.

The Yad Vashem museum is Israel’s memorial to the victims of the Holocaust and is the second most visited tourist site in Israel after the Western Wall. It depicts the story of the holocaust with chilling exhibitions in the form of video clips, photographs, newspaper cuttings and other memorabilia. Headsets are supplied enabling you to tour the museum at your leisure and allowing you to completely submerge yourself into your own world without distractions; it’s a very effective system. The museum takes you through the entire harrowing story of the holocaust, and no matter how many times you were taught it in school, read it in books or saw it on television, nothing quite depicts it like the Yad Vashem. The pictures are distressing and heartbreaking, the facts are chilling and laid bare, the hall of names will send shivers down your spine and more than once I had to control myself from breaking down. In a peculiar way it is a great experience. I spent over two hours in the museum and only made it halfway through. I could have quite easily spent four hours walking through the entire story of one of the greatest tragedies in history.

There was no better way to end the trip than a spot of pampering by the Dead Sea – at 400 metres below sea level it is the lowest point on earth and rich in soothing minerals which provides a warm, super salty floating experience. I spent several hours effortlessly floating, thinking of those who had done so before me; Cleopatra, King Herod to name some of the more exciting ones and reminisced over the past week’s events. From the historical wonders of archaeological sites such as Megiddo and the City of David, to the pumping nightlife and stunning beaches of Tel Aviv, Israel is a fascinating country. It’s the ultimate holiday destination, and without a doubt I will be returning to experience more.

The pilot

My first blog! How exciting!  After months and months of deliberation and being on the receiving end of lots of nagging from friends I have finally taken the plunge and started my own blog.  I’m not really sure why it has taken me so long considering I am a writer, love a good gossip and totally wear my heart on my sleeve therefore it makes sense that I should share my thoughts and experiences with you all!

Who was it who said ‘the key to being an excellent writer is to observe the world and record accurately and honestly what you see’ (or something to that effect) what a fantastic quote!  Well, that’s what I aim to do with my blog.  Now, if you’re expecting in-depth analysis on the changing political landscape of Northern Ireland or indeed the world, then you’ll be awfully disappointed. As the title of my blog suggests I’ll be documenting my experiences on life, love, career and friends but also offering reviews on books, restaurants and bars as well as travel pieces.  It aims to be fun, honest and interesting for you to read. 

I thought a nice idea for my inaugural piece would be to give you an idea of who I am, so here are 10 facts about me:

1. I can’t abide closed books, you know those people who won’t share anything but are quite happy to let you pour your heart out about worries, fears, insecurities and they sit there nodding their head, probably thinking ‘I feel like that too, you’re perfectly normal’ but would never say it!  I hate those people, what are you hiding from?  Share and let us know we’re not alone.

2. My mum’s a legend.  We call her Big Liz, I’ve no idea why as there is nothing big about her, but she is warm, funny, down to earth and very caring.  When I was growing up she was a strict authoritarian who I was petrified of angering, so much so, that I was a perfectly sweet little girl who genuinely did no wrong – until about the age of 13 when I mastered the art of lying – she was a fantastic mother growing up and was always there to make me boiled egg in a cup when I was sick and would say things like ‘och love, I think you’re ready for a wee bit of toast’.

3. I have a wonderful selection of fantastically fabulous girlfriends without whom I would be lost.  They are gorgeous, sexy, hilarious, smart, caring and down to earth.  We discuss absolutely everything from make-up and clothes to relationship woes and life’s disappointments, we analyse life and the unfairness/wonderfulness of it over tapas, cappuccinos, wine and jammy dodgers and generally put the world to right.

4. I am extremely untidy!  Borderline filthy if I’m honest.  I have my own room in the apartment I share with my boyfriend so that he can chuck all my mess in there and close the door.  Needless to say, the room resembles a town that has been hit badly by a tornado, one which was carrying a lot of make-up, clothes, hair products, underwear and shoes and deposited them in its passing.  I recently had to have my bag searched in work (due to a VIP visit, not because I was involved in anything untoward) and was extremely embarrassed when the policewoman pulled out a sock (I kid you not), remnants of crisps, an orange which had started to develop fur and a tin of spaghetti hoops.  Luckily I managed to find a man who is borderline OCD with tidiness, therefore he keeps me in line.

5. I have an irrational fear of getting older.  I think it’s cuz in my head I’m 15 and the fact that friends are starting to do grown up things like get married and buy houses confuses me, isn’t that what you do when you’re an adult?  This crazy, irrational fear began on my 18^th birthday.  I have no idea where it stems from, I just remember thinking it was the beginning of change; end of school days and start of adulthood.  At 26 I’m hardly ancient, but I dread my birthdays and am acutely aware that with each passing day I am another day older.

6. Those who know me well say I can be extremely grumpy when I’m tired, therefore mornings and very late in the evening are good times to avoid me.  I object to the word grumpy, I agree that when I am tired I become extremely quiet and don’t like to be conversed with, it is when people persist on trying to do so that I get grumpy.

7. I suffer from bad panic attacks, though thankfully haven’t had one in about 2 years.  The first time it happened I was on a packed bus holding helium balloons for my friend’s 21^st birthday, when all of a sudden I got a ringing in my ears, was soaked in a cold sweat and lost my vision.  I ran to the door of the bus and subsequently fainted onto the footpath in high dramatic fashion and came to in a pool of my own vomit, groping (unintentionally of course) an elderly passenger who had alighted the bus to assist me.  I have no idea why these started and a visit to my doctor who informed me ‘there is a deep-rooted dark, psychological reason behind these panic attacks’ offered no light on the subject.  Luckily I have learned to control them, but have utmost sympathy for fellow sufferers.

8. I’m a very positive person, a real get up and goer and get frustrated with people who don’t share my enthusiasm.  Don’t get me wrong, I understand we all have our days when we feel blue, myself included, but after a day you need to reassess what you want out of life and set about getting it.

9. I love travelling.  Everything about it.  From being in the throng of other travellers at an airport to meeting new people, seeing new sights, learning new phrases and trying new food.  I went backpacking last year for 18 months with my boyfriend and it was one of the best times of my life.  I highly recommend taking a year out to travel.  I freelance for NI Travel News which I love as they send me away on press trips to fascinating countries and I get to meet lovely people.

10. The one word that most people describe me as is ‘bubbly’.