I had three goals while visiting Midleton: to see Kindred
Spirits monument, have a walk through Ballyannan wood, and to have a pleasant
lunch at a local establishment, in that order of preference. The events and
legacy of the Famine in Ireland (An Gorta Mór), during the middle of the
nineteenth century, looms large over Irish life and politics.The
stories and accounts are grim, but I was off to see a more uplifting and
redemptive story. While the deprivation the Irish suffered are staggering,
there are stories of kindness and perseverance.
Perhaps it is foolhardy to take a two-and-a-half hour bus
ride for a short two night stay in Cork. That is especially true after a transatlantic
trip, but having an itinerary and agenda is important, if is is not immutable. The
first night in Cork requires food and rest. Dinner at the White Rabbit Bar
& BBQ, close to my guesthouse, is unpretentious and uncomplicated. While
the food was not unique to Americans, it was very good. My speculation is that the bar captures what
Irish people who have traveled to the States love about the food and culture. The
blues music, the wooden floors, American advertising, as well as the good food,
supplemented with Irish twists, such as the local stout, help to make both
Irish and Americans feel at home.
The train ride to Midleton the next morning was a reminder
of the hard scrabble life growing up in Cork once was. Industrial ports… arriving
in Midleton, my destinations were south of town, while the train station is
north of the town of 12,000 people. The pandemic has done weird things to our
memories and perceptions. It seems like a long time since I walked a walk
through a small Irish town, and I relished the small shops and bits of
conversation I overheard as I walked through. In fact, it has only been three
years.
The Kindred Spirits Choctaw Memorial is a remembrance of an
act of kindness during the Famine, when the Choctaw Nation gave a donation to
Irish Relief of approximately $170 in 1847 (adjusted for inflation, about $5000
today). Although it might be a small sum, the amount of money raised seems
relatively small, the donation came just 16 years after their forced removal to
Oklahoma generally referred to as “The Trail of Tears.” While President of
Ireland, Mary Robinson would often recall the kindness and generosity of the
Choctaw People. Over the years, Irish people looked to repay the kindness in
various ways, including provide supplies and donations during the pandemic.
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| Kindred Spirits Choctaw Memorial |
Kindred Spirits links two disenfranchised people together
with a bond of helping one another. Although occurring almost 170 years ago, the
act of kindness, and the response, creates a story that both people can share,
cherish, nurture. It is a bind between people who who rarely have the
opportunity to interact, but it symbolizes their endeavors to build friendship
and peace.
Commissioned in 2014 by the town of Midleton, the memorial
is not an obvious tourist destination; that would be the whisky experience in
town instead. Nevertheless, I am sure one of the motivations of the structure
another reason to have people come to a small town in eastern County Cork. But the
memorial represents something bigger. It is not in the center of town, but at
the edge of the River Owennacurrra, where people can come and watch birds and
other wildlife even as cars race across the highway bridge that removes them
from their connection to the outdoors. The location is a place to contemplate the
past, present and the future, and to observe what we often miss.
On the other side of the highway is Ballyannan Wood, a small
track of land adjacent to the river, open for walking and recreating. Ballick Road
goes beneath the N25 motorway, but the sidewalk on the right side ends at Kindred
Spirits. I must cross the road to
transit the viaduct, and immediately cross back on the other side because the car
park is adjacent to, but not accessible from the freeway. A mobile coffee shop,
serving walkers and those who want to enjoy the outdoors, is nestled among the
car run by a small generator. It is tempting, but I am anxious to explore.
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| Fading Bluebells in Ballyannan Wood |
Glorious photographs of luxurious bluebells filling the
floor of a forest are published in newspapers and social media feeds each
spring. They bloom at an inconvenient time, April and May, a difficult time to
travel. Nevertheless, I am enchanted by the photographs, and I motivated to see
them. It is late May, and I was not expecting to see bluebells and it is a
great bonus to turn a bend and see a lavender carpet alongside the trail. These
beautiful, delicate flowers are well past their prime still enticing. Although
I am still feeling the effects of jetlag, seeing the flowers, hearing, and
chasing birds I could not immediately identify, is energizing and restorative.
The remnants of a house that has been abandoned long ago, with trees growing
where people ate and slept decades ago, is a fascinating diversion. To wander
and explore is a salve to several months of limited explorations.
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| A European Robin trying to hide behind a stem |
I sit for a moment and take in the scenery reflecting that on
my long journey that takes me back to a nature walk; the tide is out and the
River Owennacurra is less and for some hours it shrinks. There is a certain joy
and liberation on a walk like this. There are no times constraints, no rushing
home to do something. Just time to explore — other than making sure I catch the
train back to Cork, which runs once an hour. But even then, I have a credit
card in my pocket. I can take care of problems if they arise, but they seem
unlikely to do so today.
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| Watching the river go by |
I had not decided on a place to have lunch ahead of time, I
like to have a look and see what interests me. My criterion in such situations
is that it need not be fancy, or especially highbrow, but local and relatively nutritious.
Coming back from the walk, I bypassed with some trepidation The Grumpy Bakers. The
name made me smile, but the long walk engendered the need for more than a
snack. Close by I was interested in the Farmgate but walked through town to weight
other options. Seeing nothing else that intrigued me more, I came back to
Farmgate,
a restaurant that was buzzing with people enjoying a Friday afternoon. I did
not want a big meal, but something that was fairly substantial. I selected the
ham salad sandwich, something that many Americans would assume would have some
concoction of mayonnaise and chopped ham. Instead, it was an open-faced
sandwich, served on traditional brown bread, salad greens, tomatoes, shaved ham,
homemade pickles, a little bit of mayonnaise, and onions. It was both hearty and a bit upscale. Jazz
music, particularly Ella Fitzgerald, set the tone, but was largely not heard over
the in-depth conversations, both loud and quiet, across the restaurant.
