To set the mood for writing this Irish yarn, I am sitting here drinking a pint of Guinness and listening to the Chieftains, picturing green pastures and Jack Dillon, my Irish-Catholic New Yorker grandfather (who ironically cared neither for Guinness nor the Chieftains).
Whether they were born there or are many generations removed, people of Irish descent feel a real kinship to the island, which makes it all the more special to be there and reconnect with one’s roots.
Growing up with a mother in the airline industry I spent much of my free time travelling, first, in Latin America, then to Western Europe. Since graduating from university I have been on the road living and working abroad, mostly in Asia. But throughout my travels I have been waiting for the right moment to get back to my hereditary homeland.
This notion of returning to my Irish roots has been in my head since I plucked my first four-leaf clover at the age of five. I even went through a stage in middle school where I spoke with an Irish lilt. (You can imagine how popular this made me in the rural south; fortunately it was a short phase!)
This notion of returning to my Irish roots has been
in my head since I plucked my first four-leaf clover
at the age of five.
When the wheels finally touched ground on the great green isle for my first visit, I felt something many people feel when they return to their ancestral home: an uncomfortable familiarity. Everyone looked like a cousin of mine, and I looked like a local—a stark contrast for someone who had lived in China for seven years.
My task was twofold: I was to find out information about the family history and genealogy of a traveller who would be coming on a B&R bespoke trip in a few months, and I wanted to do the same for myself and trace my own family’s roots.
In Search of Broods with Brogues
By coincidence (call it luck o’ the Irish), the region in which I’d be searching for the traveller’s lost relatives, from County Galway, through County Mayo and up to County Sligo, was the same area my great-great-grandfather hailed from.
On our trips to Ireland we stay at the Lough Inagh Lodge, and Dominic and Marie, the GM and owner, respectively, helped me out with some wise words. They told me to go to the pubs or to the churches. Both places documented people and provide a written history of the country; whether through births in the church or bets at the pub, between the two they knew all the dirty secrets of this north Atlantic isle.
