Delayed, but finally here

It has become customary for us to feverishly prepare to leave for Ireland as soon as Candee's school closes for the year in late May.  And that would've been the case this year, except we received notice that our flights had been cancelled.  Of course, this was due to the explosion of COVID19 cases throughout the world, but more immediately we believe, because of the number of individuals who had voluntarily cancelled their flights, making the financial feasibility of fueling and flying a plane across the Atlantic pretty dodgy for the already stricken airline companies.

Flight to Dublin out of JFK in NY.  Lovely to be lonely.

I had accepted this, with great sadness, as our fate for this year.  I thought we might be able to re-book a flight, but it didn't make sense to me to come over - having to self-isolate for two weeks on arrival - only to emerge out into an Ireland still under severe lockdown.  I didn't so much worry about high-concentration environments being closed - such as pubs and restaurants, although that would mean essentially no music (you read The Obsessions post last year, right?) - rather I was more concerned with the restriction in travel distance, keeping us from our favorite scenic runabouts.

The view from lockdown

Ireland was serious about dealing with this frightening, and puzzling, disease.  From the very beginning, there was an aggressive shutdown, limiting travel distance and purpose, and closing all businesses with the exception of grocery stores and pharmacies (chemists, in the local vernacular).  The most vulnerable group, people over the age of 70, were mandated to stay at home - to "cocoon."  Travel was only to be done for "essential" reasons such as to pick up food or to get prescriptions.  Travel distance was limited to 2 kilometres - approximately a mile and a quarter.  Of course, you could travel a bit further if you were headed to those few essential stores.

Much as in the States, the largest initial outbreaks were in urban areas, with Dublin leading the pack.  And, as in the States, urban dwellers fled the city, going to their holiday homes to avoid exposure to the virus.  Co. Mayo being a particularly popular place for the more affluent to have a getaway, there was great concern about "the Dubs," disease ridden in the best of times (after all, they did beat us in the All-Ireland...), violating the travel requirements.  Anticipating this, An Garda Síochána, the police service known as the "Guards," positioned themselves on the back roads, in the river valleys and remote boreens - narrow country roads - and intercepted much of the illicit traffic out of Dublin.  Drivers were stopped, asked where they were coming from and going to, and were instructed to turn around, go home, and report to their local guard station.  Failure to do so in a timely manner could result in arrest.

Seems harsh, perhaps, but those of us living in Vero Beach remember our trepidation about all the direct flights to our little local airport from New York as Gotham was under siege from the virus.  I remember a number of letters to the editor beseeching our local authorities to stop this traffic or, at least, track people to ensure that they were self-isolating for the required two weeks - none of which happened.  One Facebook post recounted being in a local Publix when a man on the checkout line remarked about the lack of food on the shelves.  Someone inquired, "Where have you been, had you not been shopping before this?"  He replied that he had just come in from New York and, when reminded that he was supposed to be self-isolating, he declared in an angry, indignant and entitled manner, with a loud and distinct accent, "I have to eat don't I?"

For a recent update, please note this news item outlining Florida's experience over the last few days  - "The state added nearly 9,000 new cases Thursday, shattering and nearly doubling its previous one-day record set only days earlier."  Cowardly and politically driven leadership.  And a weariness in us all in half-heartedly following half measures which get us nowhere, but produce a low buzz of constant annoyance.  It's as I say of my exercise program - enough to get me sore, but not enough to get me in shape.  Seems apt enough...  Ireland has approximately one-quarter the population of Florida; Ireland reported 11 cases yesterday.

Our daughters, in a respectful and subdued manner, both expressed concern that we were getting on a plane for an extended journey during the pandemic.  We're sure this masked a fully formed attitude, and conversations between them both, that the parental units were acting in an increasingly addle-pated way - a longstanding concern, we are sure.  The discussions about placement in the "home" cannot be long to follow.  As it turns out, is it not right that it may be way safer to hop on an international flight than take a trip to your local grocery store in Florida?  Who could've predicted this?  It should be no surprise that the European Union is expected to ban entry of people who are travelling from the US by next week.  

South of us here in Co. Mayo, the people of Co. Clare expressed their feelings to the escapees in a more direct way.  I read news reports of signs being put up displaying various versions of the same sentiment - "We hope you enjoy your holiday home.  It may not be here next time you come to visit."  There have been no reported incidences of any follow-through on these threats, but I'm sure a cold-shoulder will be employed next time these interlopers are happened upon in the local Centra or SuperValu grocery store.

But these would be outliers.  By and large, Irish people did what they most always do - follow the advice and direction of those charged with providing advice and direction.  Always with a critical and appraising eye, for sure - and with employment of the world's most developed sense of sarcasm, snark and wit - but, in turn, relying on competent leaders, on the best science of the matter, and assuming that things will be done with their best interest in mind.  Not perfect, but as best as can be done.  Not certain, as are we, that the response will be driven primarily by political considerations.  There remains a great sense of community and responsibility towards one's fellow citizen here.  And a healthy persistence of something that is sorely lacking in current American life - shame for bad and selfish behavior.  The guy at Publix could've used a bit, huh?

Although in general the guidelines were accepted, they caused grave, and sometimes frightful, consequences on people's personal lives.  Weddings were postponed or were held just among the betrothed, families needed to stay separate - especially young children and the elderly (this is the contact most generally credited with the heartbreaking deaths in Northern Italy), churches closed and shuttered.  In particular, funerals were lonely and disconsolate events, not allowing a proper communal expression of grief and support, and movement toward acceptance and closure.  A great sadness.

After the extraordinarily strict initial restrictions to quash outbreaks, a sensible 5 Phase Plan to Re-Open was published.  Gradually, travel was expanded and commercial and civic establishments have begun to re-open.  The phases were spread three weeks apart and movement to a new phase was dependent on the results of each previous phase.  2 km went to 5 km went to 20 km and then to full county travel.  And many of the changes were able to be put into effect earlier than projected.  It is expected that all-of-Ireland travel may be approved as of this coming Monday.  My worries about not seeing our favorite landscapes have proved to be unfounded.

Our first day here - yesterday/Thursday - was a lovely day.  Lots of sunshine, brilliant blue sky and puffy white clouds, temperatures reaching the low 20's (70's to you and me and a definite high compared to the average daily temperature of the low 60's for this time of year), and a light freshening breeze...  Exactly the kind of weather I would wish for to enjoy an inaugural round of golf at the Westport Golf Club.  From the front of the cottage, I can see the club - my club, just down the hill and hard on the bay. I'm a member due to a momentary lapse in judgement by my sponsors Tom F. Walsh, Dave Joyce, and the estimable Padraic Duffy, former Captains of the Club all.  Ah sweet sorrow...  But, BUT, I shall stride the fairways in two weeks time when our period of self-isolation is done.

We enjoyed a delivered pizza and salad from Westport Woodfire for dinner last night, and await the delivery of provisions from O'Connors SuperValu grocery store as I type.  We shall be well fed.

The backyard.  The ladies have been hard at work.
So many new gorgeous plantings

I stepped out of the cottage this morning and couldn't have been more pleased with the weather - cloudy, cool (62), damp - a delightful heaviness when you took a deep and bracing breath - and I was pleased, I must confess, by an ever-so-faint and entrancing bouquet of manure coming from distant fields - a singular and distinctive aroma in my citified life that tells me I'm back in the Irish countryside.  After all, in this charming town of shops and tourists and pubs and cafes, the ancient arts of farming, both crops and livestock, are still essential and widely practiced.

The front yard.  Croagh Patrick is unwilling to reveal herself.

So, I am pleased that I changed my mind and that we decided to come back this year.  Our recent customary nine-week visit has been cut to five, two of which will be spent in isolation.  But, we will have three weeks free range and we plan to make the most of it.  It will be great to walk up and down the town, take some day trips, play some Irish golf, and especially terrific to see Marion and Padraic again.

Evening settles in