Days 60 & 61

December 2, 2021: Day 60: I did nothing all day. I slept in, listened to my audio book, played a few games of Hearts on my phone, and made a 2km round trip to a Centra and back for food. Otherwise, I lounged in the tent, a total zero day. In the evening, I called Palmer, and we talked for an hour.

December 3, 2021: Day 61: I was determined to see some of the city today and maybe continue on my way to Ennis. I packed quickly, then lifted my bike over the fallen trees to leave the park via the path. I headed into downtown Limerick, crossing the bridge back over the River Shannon. The city bustled with many people crossing the streets and shopping downtown. I meandered through the city, looking for interesting places.

One alleyway went a bit downhill towards a nice walking zone with restaurants. A white-bearded fellow with black sunglasses sat at the side, playing an accordion. I was going to pass him, enjoying the music, but not wanting to pay for it. I appreciate street artists, at least good ones, but I've got to save as much money as I can for this trip to work. But I also have a hard and fast rule to give myself time to talk to people. The places I go are interesting, but meeting interesting people is always worth the time. The man spoke up, asking where I was going. He had noticed my bike bags as I walked past, and those, as ever, were the conversation starter. I mentioned the Wild Atlantic Way, and Istanbul. Istanbul seems so far off still, it's like a dream. Actually it is a dream. I talked with him for a while, politely asking him about his accordion. He said the accordion was a 100 year old specimen he had gotten at an antique shop some years ago. I was very impressed how he could play it, seemingly so effortlessly. I suppose I'm impressed with all people who can play instruments with any proficiency, seeing how difficult I find doing so myself. I'm particularly interested in how difficult the accordion appears to be, especially after some videos I'd seen online of people taking them apart. His only had one line of buttons, but he explained some models have up to five such lines, plus keys on the other side. The accordion must open and close to draw and push air, and the moving air causes reeds inside the instrument to vibrate and thus play notes. Pushing buttons controls which reeds vibrate. Timing button presses with the movement of the accordion produced music. He showed me that despite looking complicated, he had long since memorized certain sequences of keys that produced interesting melodies. Really, all he was doing was repeating these many times over. I felt he was just being humble. He demonstrated that he had a lot more skill than that, and played a much more quick, complex piece. He said his name is Thomas McNamara. He said his name several times, and spelled it when I asked him to. He said he had once lived in the UK, and had played accordion on the streets there too. Those were good days, he said, as people gave him lots of tips. He had managed to buy a house just off of playing the accordion. I'm not sure I believe him. But as he spoke to me, people walked by and dropped him tips even as he wasn't playing. He explained that he knew these people. Return customers. People who would give him their change after purchasing coffee at a local cafe, and such. He spoke of Fame and Fortune. These people knew him, so they returned favors. I dug in my pouch, feeling guilty I had not given him a tip myself. He said he didn't need it, and was happy for the company, but I dropped a few coins on his mat anyway. At this point, he had more than earned them from me.

I'm not sure how the topic came up, but he started talking about the Irish vs the English. He spoke of the atrocities the English had committed against the Irish over hundreds of years. He quoted the famous line. 'There cannot be both peace and injustice.' He spoke of Michael Collins, and his sacrifice for Ireland. He was supportive of the IRA. I remembered what I had been told by the locals on Dursey Island. I nodded in understanding. What had happened to the Irish had not been forgotten. The country had since moved on, but there were still scars. He also talked about the EU. He didn't mention specific issues, but said reform was needed. The EU, in his view, was terrible for Ireland, but leaving as the UK had done might be worse. He played one last song for me, while I recorded. I had wanted a simple picture with him, but he didn't shy from the camera. It was longer than I had expected. Then I left. I had enjoyed talking with him, but I was nonetheless eager to be off, to see the rest of Limerick.

I made several loops around the old city, passing cafes, restaurants, pubs, and retail stores. It was like every city in Ireland, but this part of Limerick seemed smaller than what I'd seen in other cities. After just a few minutes, I saw Thomas McNamara again. He had moved, taking his roller case with him, and now seemed to be throwing things away in a dumpster in a darker alleyway. That man hid secrets he had not shared. I wondered what his true situation was. He had been kind to me, but I nevertheless didn't want to end up in another protracted conversation with him. Something told me to stay away. So I stayed out of view, and pedaled away. I saw him again a few minutes later, returning to his original spot.

I decided to go to a restaurant to eat something. I found a small cafe with an outdoor seating space, and leaned my bike against the fencing outside while I went in. I kept an eye on it while I ordered my food. I got the soup and panini option. When I asked what was in the soup, I got an unintelligible reply. It was orange. Might have had carrot in it. It was pretty mediocre.

After I left the cafe, I went back to the main road that crossed the river at the bridge I had used earlier in the day. I went to the other side. I saw a tailor at the side, so pulled my bike over and asked if they could fix the hole in my right bike glove. It had been bothering me, the cold reaching in on many an occasion. It had been particularly bad that one time I had tried pulling my tent poles apart but had found them frozen together. The woman there said she couldn't fix it because she wouldn't have enough space with which to work. I thanked her and left. The next shop I saw that looked interesting was a key shop. I waited in line for the counter to open. I asked if they could copy my bike lock key. I had originally had three copies of it, but lost the other two in my move from WI back to KY. The key I had was the only one I'd brought with me on the trip, and I was worried what the consequences might be for losing it. He said they couldn't repair that kind of lock, but pointed me to a locksmith up the street who might be able to. That was my next stop. The locksmith's building was on a pretty busy street as well. The door was locked, but had a little buzzer. I rang it, and the door was unlocked. I had to leave my bike outside, and was worried since there wasn't any way of seeing out. I'd better make this quick. He quickly looked at the key, and said while he usually could, he didn't have the blanks for this type right now, so I was out of luck. I thanked him, and was glad to find my bike still waiting for me outside.

I decided to check out the churches in town. I had spoken with Palmer last night, and he told me of his habit of going into old churches. Each one had something unique or special. He sounds a lot like Mama when he says that. I suppose it's true. Frankly, after a certain point, I feel I've seen all the churches, or period houses, or castles. It's a bit of a cynical way of looking at things, but I tried to dismiss the thought. I went to St. John's, and went inside. It was nice. As much as my view of churches is tainted by my view of religion, I had to admit it was nice. Stained glass windows always have that effect. I'm always surprised by how much detail they contain. I wondered how their creators came up with what scenery to put in the background.

From St. John's, I tried to find my way to King John's Castle, but couldn't find a good way. I passed St. Mary's on the way, but couldn't find a way in. It had a high stone wall, and the doorway through it seemed locked. The way to the castle itself couldn't be less confusing. I went the wrong way a few times, ending up going head first into oncoming traffic. I turned around, navigating around the town. I ended up crossing a bridge back across the river. I was looking for a restroom, and some food. I was feeling hungry again. I made a big loop, then found myself passing St. Mary's a second time. This time I just walked my bike down the one way street, through to the castle visitor center. I walked in, inquiring what the price to visit the castle and its museums was. I forget how much they charged. It was something like 10-12 euro. The woman there let me walk my bike through the sliding glass doors and store it inside while I toured the castle museums.

It was a nice place. I loved the maps they had. There was a video with a good map of the British Isles. The style of the artwork reminded me of the opening credits of Game of Thrones. They also had an exquisite scale model of the old town, or at least what they thought it would have looked like. Lights above illuminated different parts of the model to highlight different sections of old Limerick. The funniest part about the exhibition were the characters that acted out important roles of medieval life. There was one of a coin maker. They had C-rated actors perform the lines, and it was really funny. They'd position themselves inspecting things until you hit a button that would trigger a response.

King John’s Castle was built in 1200 on the site of an old Viking outpost. The castle was built at a strategic position along the River Shannon in order to protect the city. In this era, Limerick became a wealthy trade port, with links to continental Europe. However, in the 1600s, Limerick was besieged five times. Once during the Irish Rebellion, twice during the 11 Years War, and twice during the Williamite War (I think). Extensive use of undermining was done: literally digging tunnels beneath the castle walls in order to collapse them. There was also countermining: castle defenders digging tunnels to intercept and flood the invader’s tunnels.

After the historic exhibition, the tour led into the basement below King John's castle. The ruins of an ancient Viking wall were there, as well as evidence of undermining that had occurred during one of the sieges of the castle. The castle courtyard was itself quite nice. Small reconstructed huts served to show where the armorer and blacksmith would have worked. Each of the towers served to demonstrate one of the medieval professions that would have been found here, from the mason to the constable. These were also characters that would respond when you entered. The constable was an especially interesting one to watch, with barely veiled threats of imprisonment in order to obtain bribes (which would go toward the castle walls, of course). I took video of some of these characters saying a few lines out of context. I really should have recorded the entire Constable's speech though. There was also the great hall, where ruined storerooms could be seen down a level.

The view from the castle over Limerick was a good one. The River Shannon passed through below. On one side, you could see the new city, bustling with people and cars. On the other, the spires of an old church rose and coal smoke drifted up from houses in the distance. This view saw pastures and far away hills.

I went down, then bought some post cards in the gift shop and left. I picked up my bike from the entrance hall again, then went back across the bridge. I detoured north a bit, seeing a few workers tend a huge fire by the riverbank. It billowed thick black smoke. I wonder what it was they were burning there. I cycled back, trying to roughly follow the river. It was late. I wouldn't be able to leave Limerick today, but I would probably be able to set up camp again in the same spot as before. I stopped at the Centra on the way back, picking up food for the evening. I know I got a liter of orange juice. I think I also got a horrible package of pre-cooked chicken stuffed with unmelted garlic butter. Those things were terrible. Was the quiche that night? That was also questionable.

Back at my campsite, I had to wait for a few people to pass before quickly throwing my bike back over the fallen trees. I tried not to damage my crank set doing so. I set back up, then went to rest. I woke up in the night, feeling wet. With some horror, I noticed I was lying in a very wet spot of the tent. Water had seeped through, forming a small puddle. That water had soaked all the way through the sleeping bag to my bum. Nothing I could do about that now. I had already used my last heat pouch. I turned over, figuring it would take some time before the water would soak through the other side of my sleeping bag. I also adjusted my position, trying to find a drier patch of ground to lie on. That worked, and I slept the rest of the night.