Off the Beaten Path

Kinvara // Ireland

By Lauren di Matteo

WRITTEN BY NICOLE BRAVO

We landed in Shannon, on the west coast of Ireland during a storm—naturally. As the rain poured down in buckets I thought it best to wait for the bus under the covered area of the airport, however all the others waiting insisted that we had to stand at the actual bus loading sign otherwise the bus would not stop. Annoyed at how ridiculous it is to stand in the rain when there is a perfectly dry spot nearby, I gave in to their insistence and joined them—strangers huddling together in the rain.

Wet and cold, we loaded the only bus going north toward Galway. In my previous research I hadn’t been able to find a bus going to the small village we were staying in and was disappointed when the bus driver confirmed it saying, “You‘ll have to go two hours north to Galway, and then catch another bus and come back down. Only the southbound bus stops in that town.” I felt sure that I would go crazy on that bus. We had already endured an early morning wake up, hike to a bus station, a bumpy flight, and now another bus, not to mention I was starved and soaking wet. I couldn’t bear passing by our town just to wait at another station for hours in order to catch another bus that would hopefully bring us back down.

There had to be another way.

In an effort to maintain my sanity, I asked the driver to inform me when we were nearing the stop closest to the town of Kinvara. I was hoping to come up with a plan by then but the stop came sooner rather than later and I was completely unprepared to act when he informed me that our village was just ten miles east of there. In a moment of desperation as the bus doors were closing I looked at Lauren and said, “Let‘s go!” We jumped off the bus into another downpour, and ran across the street to what looked like a liquor store but also contained a bakery and bank. I realized this would be a moment like in the movies where the locals extend kindness and hospitality toward stranded foreigners—or not. If the latter, we would be totally out of luck; it would be a long walk to Kinvara from there. There was no plan B.

As we entered, I lifted my hands in despair and throwing myself on the mercy of the older gent behind the counter, asked if there was any way he could help us get to Kinvara. His reply didn’t sound promising: there were no buses going that way for hours, it was too far to walk, and all of the local taxis were up in Galway for the opening of the summer horse races. The adrenaline that was rushing through my body only seconds before seemed to vanish all at once as hope dwindled and dread seized me. Just before I could say or do something embarrassingly pathetic, the banker took pity on our poor souls and said she would make a phone call. Somehow she managed to get a hold of a taxi driver that was willing to come down from the races, for a little extra cash of course. Plan A was a success, thank God for the Irish!

The taxi driver picked us up and as he drove along, explained all about the horse races, Irish traditions, and a famous Irish band that we just had to listen to. He played their CD, sang along, and told us a plethora of easily forgettable details about this fantastic band. As we made it into the small village, he pointed out the famous Dunguaire Castle, told us a bit of the town’s history, and most importantly, which pubs were the best. We would later find his recommendations extremely helpful since the the town consisted mainly of two small grocery stores and about 14 pubs. The cheery driver asked us how long we were staying and told us to call him another day so he could show us around the area, including all of the best places to see. There was no scam here; he was honest, genuine and kind. It was hard to believe this to be true of a complete stranger, yet impossible to think otherwise.

We may have been cold and soaking wet, but we found ourselves warmed to the core by the kind Irishmen that welcomed us to their country thus far, and this was just the beginning.