Visiting Kilkenny Ireland

My first close-up view of Kilkenny Castle is across a vast expanse of grass, as I round the crest of the path and turn through a space in the hedge. I have chosen to enter from the rear rather than the street side. I imagine myself as a youth on an errand for a local farmer or shopkeeper, perhaps delivering wares to the castle kitchen. With the combination of awe and fear that a first-time visitor might have on such an errand, I approach the imposing structure.

My flight into fantasy is abruptly interrupted as I enter the castle and am requested to pay an admission fee. My return back to the world of reality is swift and clear. As I wander through the rooms, some of which are empty while others have been refurbished and decorated in a style appropriate to the period, I realize I am alone. The weather, combined with this being pre tourist season, results in peace and quiet.

I sit in one of the window seats looking out over the grey and green countryside and let my thoughts return to May in Ontario. My mind gently touches one special day eighteen years ago when my first daughter was born. Once upon a time, long ago, a mother of an eighteen year old daughter may have sat here, looking out over the distant countryside and thinking about her daughter. In those days, the ability to travel as far and as fast as I have would not even be imagined. Would she have worried about her daughter, wondering where she was and what she could be doing?

With warm thoughts of thanksgiving that I could be both adventurous and connected, I continue my browsing in Kilkenny Castle. I wander into the kitchens and the service rooms. In the souvenir shop, I idly finger the gifts, and then buy several postcards.

As I wander into the yard the sun breaks through the clouds. The grass is misty and sparkling with tiny water drops reflecting like diamonds. A magnificent red beech tree stands in isolated splendour in the wide expanse of lawn.

I go over to the converted buildings of the stable area where the Kilkenny Design Centre is located. The wares are beautiful and expensive. I finger fine woollen sweaters and lovely laces, but buy nothing.

Wandering upstairs to where I imagine the hay used to be stored, there is a restaurant. I decide to warm myself with a cup of tea. The desserts tempt me. I sit at a little table in an alcove with the sun streaming in on me, savouring the warmth of the hot brew and the creamy sweetness of my decadent choice. I write a postcard home then fill page after page in my journal with thoughts of my trip. I am content, warm, and happy.

Hello from Ireland, May 14th, 1986

Thinking of you on your birthday, Julia. I wish it was as warm and sunny as in this picture. We have sunny periods, but it was hailing and snowing a while ago. I’m in this castle, spending today on my own, going at my own pace. I like it. Meeting some interesting people. There was a portrait her of Lady Grafton in a red dress, but it is down for repair.

See you soon, lots of love,

Me

Leaving my cocoon of contentment, I descend through the cobbled courtyard to a main traffic intersection. I felt more removed from modern life than I really have been. I saunter down the now-sunny street heading toward the 13th century St. Canice’s Cathedral. This takes me along High Street, which has some shops painted black and others red with their names in gold lettering. There are interesting architectural details and attractive window displays. I do not stop to shop, but climb the hill to the church.

Remains of the destruction that Cromwell wreaked here is very evident. I wander through the church, but decide not to venture up the wooden ladders into the tower. I head off to the Black Abbey next. I am visiting the same places our guide Sally has scheduled for our group today. I half expect to meet the others. I see no sign of them.

I am again using the structure of the group as the backbone for my independent travels. I am using the prepaid accommodation, transportation, and meals, yet only using what Sally provides when I want to. It is probably very frustrating for the others and particularly Sally but I must do what is right for me.

I wander through the gardens and streets and eventually return to the guest house. I see several of our group chatting in the sunny garden. They are sheltered from the wind by the building. I greet them with pleasure.

My independence has been less noticed today because the group had split in two with some members taking the train to Waterford to tour the crystal factory. I slide into a chair, happy at the chance to rest my legs. The stories of the day’s adventures are varied and interesting. I am satisfied with spending my day my way, at my pace.

Dinner is a lively event at a local pub. It is very obvious from the meals ordered that some in our group eat very small portions and others choose more substantial fare. An enjoyable evening ends on a very pleasant note.

Questing Marilyn recounts a tour through parts of England and Ireland by a group of mental health professionals exploring how what we believe influences how we behave. See more at www.questing.ca

Questing Marilyn is available in book and eBooks format on line and through many libraries.