Surfing in Ireland

The wind was so strong that day that I could barely get myself and the board to the water without becoming a sail and blowing away. Photo by Peggy Harrington

On our way toward Dingle, Ireland we stopped in Castlegregory for the opportunity to take a surfing lesson.  Yes, surfing.  In Ireland.  It was a dreary, disgusting day, and I was not surprised that only three of us wanted to go–my brother, one half of a nice young couple who got stuck traveling with us, and me.  Luckily, our traveling companions were more than happy to cheer us on from shore and take pictures.  Even in the cold, Brandon Bay in County Kerry is a lovely place to spend a few hours.  It was cold and rainy, and I have a feeling we were warmer than them in our wet suits and booties.

My father trying to stay warm while getting some pictures of us. Photo by Michelle Duffy.

Our instructor, Jamie Knox of Jamie Knox Water Sports, was very understanding with my brother’s and my status as complete beginners.   He went over safety rules and explained a few different technique we would use, and focused on getting us in the water early and often, to make the most of our lesson.   Both my brother and I have terrible vision (I clock in at -8.00) and I can’t imagine that helps us in our aquatic adventures.  Kevin was flying blind, and I wore some outdated contacts.  There were several times when Jamie would be gesturing and we just looked at each other and shrugged because we had no clue what he was trying to say, but nobody got hurt so I guess it turned out fine.

We were given foam boards to practice on, because obviously we would be smacking ourselves in the heads quite a few times, so we may as well get hit with foam.  We learned the basics of timing and actually catching a wave on our stomachs.

Learning the basics. Photo by Michelle Duffy.

I had a ton of fun pulling myself up on the board and learning to steer and control my own speed.  It was pretty easy and it felt amazing to glide along the water so quickly.  We were called out of the water to learn how to stand on the board.  My brother Kevin and I shared a look like hey, this is wicked fun, why ruin a good thing?  Plus, that looks really hard.

And it was really hard.  I am quite a bit smaller than the other two, and I spent most of my time getting tossed around and trying to get back on my feet and be in some sort of a position to actually catch a wave.   By the last half hour or so, my arms were so tired that I could barely pull myself to the front of the board, nevermind paddle.  Luckily, our instructor could see my struggle and would help launch me so I could keep trying to stand up on the board.

Obviously my brother and I share a family trait: grace. Photo by Michelle Duffy

I did finally get up standing on the board, on my very last run of the day.  Of course, our audience had gotten bored, and one of the downsides of being the only single person on a trip is that no one is particularly invested in photos or videos of you, so there is sadly no proof of my triumph.  I can’t wait to try surfing again, although I think I need to seriously improve my arm strength if I plan to be out there for more than a couple of hours.

Interested?
2-hour beginner surf lessons are €35 per person for adults, € 25 for under 18s, and includes rental of board, wetsuit, booties and hood.  If you find cheaper surf lessons in Co. Kerry, they’ll match the price.  They also offer windsurfing and stand up paddle boarding as well as surf camps for youngsters and family packages.

Robbed

On Monday, my laptop, external hard drive, and ipod were all stolen from my office at my new job.  It happened in the middle of the day, while other people were in our suite, which is tucked away in a rarely-visited corner.  I was only gone for about half an hour.  Luckily no one else lost anything, no one got hurt, and I had my phone and wallet with me.  I kept hoping there was some other explanation–that I had left my laptop at home, or a coworker had moved my ipod.  Yes, I did everything I was supposed to do, from filing a report to changing my passwords.  I know people mean well, but I’m not all that interested in advice that would require time travel for me to carry it out.

It’s so strange to not have a “when it happened” moment.  I have been robbed before, but in this instance there was no action, just a realization that I didn’t have my things and it wasn’t a mistake.  There’s also some irony in that these objects have been with me all over the world, and yet they were taken from my posh new job at home.  I keep hoping that maybe the thief will see the laptop is a pc, and ditch it.  Or that they’ll have a heart when they see the hard drive is just a terabyte of images, and will turn it in as though they found it.  I would honestly let them keep the stuff if they offered to give back the data.  But I know none of that is realistic.  As the cop said, my things are gone forever.

I’m honestly not that bothered by losing the stuff.  They are just things, and while I’d rather not drop $1,000 or so to replace them, they are replaceable.  What breaks my heart is all the data that cannot be recovered, especially the photos.  Conservatively, it’s at least 50,000 images.  Basically every image I took from 2012-2014 is now gone forever, which includes almost every image I shot on my dSLR, and basically all of the photos that were any good.  Ireland, India, most of Cuba, everything that happened in Boston last April, as well as thousands of family photos and quite a few events are all gone.  What I can recover is mostly not RAW files, meaning they are lower quality and completely useless for some purposes.  The ten posts about Ireland that were queued up to have images added and be posted over the next three or four weeks now seem sad and boring, a little reminder of what I do not have.

I know I have some things backed up on the cloud, and older stuff (like Benin, Egypt, and my first three months in Cuba) on my other hard drive, but to be honest I don’t even have the heart to look and see what I have left.  I really just don’t feel like remembering again of what is lost.  I spent a whole day fixated on the hard drive and therefore thinking that at least I still had my India pictures, and then I remembered that my laptop was also taken, and India is gone too.  Every couple of minutes I remember again that it’s all gone, and the idea of setting about to pick up the pieces holds no appeal.

I certainly have a lot of regrets, like not separating my backup from my originals, not uploading the images to the Ireland posts this past weekend, not having everything on the cloud, and not locking my door in what I thought was a safe office suite.  I wish I had just eaten the lunch I brought from home, and of course I wish the two office guard dogs had been there to scare the thief away.  But mostly I’m just sad.  I think of all the memories that are gone, images, writing and songs going back to high school and in some cases middle school.  I think of the years of hard work, all the hundreds of hours that went into those thousands and thousands of images.  It’s all gone, and I don’t think I have it in me to start again.

The top photo is one of the few India photos that was sitting in the cloud, albeit in a crappy, overly-small jpeg.  It’s also a picture of trust, trust that no one will take your shoes while you go inside the temple, and sometimes it’s nice to remember that.  

A New View of Ireland: Kayaking in Dingle Bay

Kevin and Michelle, my brother and future sister-in-law, in Dingle Bay.

One of the things the drew us to Vagabond Tours was the kayaking option in Dingle.  We are an outdoorsy crew, owning two canoes and a kayak back home.  We knew we were going to be kayaking this trip, come hell or high water.  It was also one of the keys to a successful family trip–you are who you are, no matter where in the world you go.

Irish Adventures was right on the waterfront in downtown Dingle.  Our guide, Noel, was funny and informative.  He also took some great images, although he didn’t seem to understand why it would pain me not to be able to take them myself.  Someday, I would love to have a camera or rig that can survive kayaking, but this was not that day.

Here I am, with beautiful Dingle in the background.

A few people were in tandem kayaks, but most were solo.  There was a quick lesson and continued instruction for those brand new to kayaking.  Michelle was a compete newcomer to it but she was able to learn the techniques quickly from Noel and had no problem with the paddle.  We paddled along the bay in search of the famed Fungi the Dolphin.  I had read about him ahead of time and my bullshit detector lead me to believe there were a  few dolphins off the coast and on the rare occasion one was spotted, they were called Fungi.  Or that Fungi was a bit like the Dread Pirate Roberts or a child’s goldfish, secretly replaced every time he passed on.  It turns out there was no need for the cynicism–Fungi is the rare lone dolphin, and he has been alive for over 20 years.  Like all Irish folks, he is quite friendly and regularly gets close to passing boats, including kayaks.  The closest we got was about 50 yards away, which was a bummer for myself and the other animal loved on the trip, but it was still pretty cool..

My parents, who are still married after sharing a tandem kayak.

After the excitement of Fungi, we got to explore the nuances of the Dingle Peninsula’s photogenic coast.  We even paddled through a few caves getting a chance to see the aquatic wildlife in the clear water.  Starfish, sea anemones and various fish were everywhere.  We had been in Ireland for about a week already, but this was the first time we were seeing cliffs up close, and from water level.  We also learned more about the area’s history and some of the local creatures of the land and air as well.

A gorgeous shot from inside one of many caves.

The paddle back was against the wind and tide, and also the day after Kev and I went surfing.  Unless you’ve got Michelle Obama arms, I do not recommend so many arm-straining activities in quick succession.  But such is life for a world traveler 🙂  I absolutely recommend Irish Adventures to anybody from a newbie to experienced kayaker.  It’s a great way to see something different.  Noel was a great guide and the experience of exploring sea caves was unlike any other view of Ireland.

Interested?

There are half-day (3 hours) and full-day tours available.  Half-day tours like mine are 3 hours and available to paddlers age 12+ of all levels.  Cost €50 adult, €45 teenagers, €40 under 12’s.  Full day paddles are from €85 to €100.  They are categorized as Medium (5+ hours, open to all 14+) and Hard (5-6 hours, age 16+.)  You will need to bring swimwear and a towel.  Wet suits and all other equipment are provided.

All photos courtesy of Irish Adventures.  

Ganvie: the Stilt Village of Benin

En route to Ganvie.

It’s rare for people to write about Ganvie, or really any part of Benin, but when they do it churns my stomach.  Romantic, they write.  Mystical, inviting, the Venice of Africa.

None of this is what I saw in Ganvie.

We got to the stilt village in the middle of Nokué Lake, not far from Cotonou,  Moving in a pair of long motorboats we passed fish farms and what looked like the invasive species water hyacinth along the way.  Because we were a human services group, someone asked the obvious question of whether the men who brought us there were from the community, and the answer was hand-waved away with a probably.  When we arrived, we got out to find a small, angry monkey chained to a post, setting the tone for our visit.

The only monkey I saw in three weeks in Benin.

Reasons given for the existence of the village are varied, from the villagers themselves as well as the internet.  Some claim it started 400 years ago, others say the 16th or 17th century.  The Tofinu people were running from enslavement by either the Fon or Dahomey tribe.  Or was it the Portuguese?  Some claim it’s the only one in the world, or perhaps the biggest.

Everything felt uneasy there.

A woman screamed at us in a tribal language as we came to a shop.  Throughout the day, children and adults would curse, yell and point at us as they passed on their completely non-mechanized boats.  Even for those who didn’t speak French, it still had a chilling effect.  We found ourselves lowering or hiding our cameras, not meeting each other’s eyes or theirs.

A local boat

After I made my purchases I was tired of being pressed further, so I went to the porch to watch some kids splash around.  They were all quite small and in various states of undress, but were too engrossed n their play to bother with another bunch of yovos.  I took a couple of pictures, as did some others, but one of our flashes went off and a little boy put his hand over his genitals.  In French he yelled that he would only remove it for money, which horrified us.  Then he said we should really pay so we can have National Geographic pictures, and I was horrified for a different reason.  This kid knew our number, knew the number of everyone who pays a boat to take them out there.  We wanted something gritty, graphic, exotic and strange.  Something that looked like a poor, primeval stereotype of Africa.

Typical houses in the village.

We were brought from one building to the next, and it quickly became clear that there would be no talk on the history or culture of Ganvie.  Just a lot of wooden statues, wind chimes, and toy cars for sale.

Some students began to get seasick from getting in and out of the boats so often, and others were nervous about a couple of the buildings that seemed to bounce and sway a little too much, where we could see the water beneath our feet through the cracks and holes in the floor.  A chatty group, we got more sullen and silent in the face of a strange and incredibly un-fun shopping trip.  The less we bought, the more agitated the shopkeepers, boat captains and other locals would get.  Some people tried to explain that every shop sold the same thing, or that we were but poor students, but there was little sympathy to be found.

Fish farming plots.

Someone in charge heavily insinuated that it was an obligation to buy things, since we had shown up as voyeuristic little tourists, never mind that these same people in charge brought us here with little warning and no option to stay behind.  We came to wonder if the men who brought us there were from the community, how the community felt about our presence (though I think we knew) and who actually owned those motorboats.

Sometimes I think of Ganvie, and it always makes me uncomfortable.  It’s one of those places I hardly ever discuss.  It felt wrong to be there, but also wrong to take away the much-needed tourism dollars.  It was disappointing not to learn more about the logistics of their way of life, but it seems entitled to be disappointed that strangers don’t take time out of their day to entertain me and answer my questions.  Some people complain that the locals are too unfriendly–how dare they not smile for us, not open up their homes for us.  Most of all, I think about how young the naked boy must have been to already understand exactly how the world sees him, and what it expects of him.  He didn’t do anything wrong–in fact he was being a clever entrepreneur.  It’s just so unsettling that his venture is successful.

Animal Abuse and Tourism: Where do we Draw the Line?

Not so picturesque

Like walking into a guide book, we ran into “domesticated” elephants several times now in Kerala, always completely by accident.  Well, by accident or unknowing on our part.  But the two times when we saw elephants at or near hotels were certainly no accident.  I quote the word domesticated because I’m not convinced that such an animal can be domesticated.  And if it can, surely this cannot happen over the course of one lifetime–isn’t true domestication a multi-generation process, a form of contrived evolution?

Is this worth it?

According to EleAid, India has some of the strictest laws in Asia governing domesticated elephants, but the laws aren’t enforced.  City life is completely unsuited to what elephants need, and some elephants used in tourism or in temples are known for being chained to one spot their whole life or completely over-worked.

As a person who loves animals (and used to spend quite a bit of time with science), I find myself pulled between two poles: I want to both be with animals and see them able to live their lives naturally.  As interesting as it was to spot a bear on a neighbor’s porch in Maine, for example, it was sad to realize that this animal had acquired a taste for human food and was bold enough to walk up to someone’s house and take it.  This means that it is likely that bear will someday die because of something it eats or because it

On our seventh official day of the Kerala Blog Express, we got to take a boat ride in the Periyar Tiger Reserve (*Tigers not Guaranteed.)  This area is only accessible by boat, and is the first place I’ve seen in India with zero trash.  The animals have substantial protected acreage at their disposal, and their lives appear to transpire without human interference, other than boats that watch from a safe distance.  To me, this is how nature was meant to be observed: from a safe distance, in a respectful way, and in controlled numbers (of humans.)

We were able to see elephants again in Wayanad by driving through Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary.  We were not permitted to drive through the rest of the sanctuary as planned because the weather was making the animals nervous.  I was glad to hear that we were not being allowed to do something that would jeopardize our (and in turn the animals’) well-being.  To me, the surest sign of a good sanctuary or preserve is that they use the word ‘no.’  There should not be a dollar amount that will assuage concerns for the animals’ well being.

In Wayanad

As much as we love the magic and intensity (and let’s not forget the profile pics and blog posts) of witnessing a wild animal at close range, it isn’t natural.  They aren’t meant to bend to our will, to eat our food, or to carry us around.  They need space, not chains, and reputable research and preservation organizations need our money more than sketchy places that drug or otherwise abuse the animals do.  It’s not satisfying and it won’t boost my page views, but participating in the mistreatment of animals is not what’s best for those animals.  Neither is going on an elephant ride (or playing with tiger cubs), getting the cool photos, and then writing a contrite, hand-wringing post after the fact to retroactively atone for our participation.  Unfortunately that seems to be the preferred route for travelers with a conscience, myself included: get the snaps, then talk about how messed up it is afterwards.

A little one in the wild of Wayanad

Beyond the ethics of it, animals are far more interesting when they are behaving as they choose.  As fellow member of the Kerala Blog Express Daniel said on Instagram, seeing a mother and baby elephant interacting in the wild is far better than watching one perform for us on paved city streets.  It was amazing to see a small herd of elephants quietly going about their business this afternoon, not bothered by our presence, not decorated by anything other than mud and their own skin, and completely free of chains.

I hope that governments and tourists alike will help make it easier for letting animals be wild to be an easy choice, one that is rewarded with good publicity and plenty of business.  I hope that consumers become more aware of the power of their dollars, their presence and their photos, and wield them accordingly.  I hope elephants and other, less PR-friendly animals are still around in the wild for generations to come.

Doesn’t this look better than chains and decorations? In the Periyar Tiger Reserve

Want to learn more about how to help animals and make humane decisions?  Try some of these resources below.

• 3 reputable elephant sanctuaries in Thailand (Nomadic Matt went to one of them) via Matador.
• Students in Hong Kong work to combat ivory trafficking.
• The Clinton Global Initiative’s Partnership to Save Africa’s Elephants (can we get some Asia action over here?)
• How Tourists Can Help from Humane Advisor.
• The RIGHT Tourism Getting it RIGHT list of partners.
• The Animal Friendly Tourism Guide from the World Society for the Protection of Animals.
• The Indian Government’s Project Elephant, started in 1992, lays out their plan for protection.

Disclaimer: I was in Kerala, India on a trip sponsored by Kerala Tourism.  They gave no input on my posts or their subject.  The views contained are completely my own.  I accept advertisers as long as they are relevant to my subject matter and I experience the product, service, or location myself. For advertising inquiries, please e-mail harrington.delia@gmail.com