An Irish Wake

Since the relatives that I was visiting in Ireland live in County Clare, a country area, the custom of a home wake still prevails. It was the wife's brother who died unexpectedly at age 64 while I was there. Since many of you asked, I would like to share about this wonderful custom.

The wake is a grand send-off for the loved one who has died, a time when the body of the deceased rests in the family home with family and close friends keeping vigil through the days and nights before the burial. It ends when the body is taken from the home for the last time and moved to the local Church for the funeral. People come from near and far to take part in celebrating the life of the departed and providing comfort to the family. There's laughter as people tell their favorite stories and share their best memories. There are tears for the loss of a family, friend or community member or in sorrow for those left behind.

The deceased is dressed in their best clothes, taken home, surrounded by candles, never left alone, remembered, celebrated and cherished. Food is dropped off by neighbors and friends for those who gather. Family, friends, relatives, neighbors and acquaintances come, offer their condolences, sit together, eat, drink and talk together. Music is played, the mirrors in the house are covered and the clocks are stopped at the time of the death. Close friends and neighbors volunteer to fix food and clean up in the kitchen, care for children if needed or run errands. The family is supported, the deceased is honored, it's done in company.

It seems like such a good way to grieve.

Loss

Pema Chodron:
"When you open yourself to the continually changing, impermanent, dying nature of your own being and of reality, you increase your capacity to love and care about other people and your capacity to not be afraid."

This trip to Ireland has turned into something very different than how it was planned. I'm staying with my husband's cousins who have become good friends over the 13 years since we met them. There has been an unexpected death in the family throwing every day life up in the air, the way death does. Thoughts and feelings are swirling, tears and stories are shared. I'm learning more family history. A home wake, the custom here in Count Clare, will be tomorrow and I'll attend. I'm letting it all in, being present, helping where possible. It's all I can do for now.

Smoked Chicken, Plantain, and Rum Punch

 

Homes in the rainforest used to have outside kitchens with clay ovens (above) in order to cook without heating up the house. Now it's just my daughter and her husband's home that have one (as well as a kitchen inside). It's an oldtime, tried and true way of cooking for those who know the intricacies of cooking without a temperature gauge to guide the way. And it's a terrific way to smoke chicken (or other meat or fish) for a long period of time over fragrant wood until it's tender and yummy.

The chicken is on that grill platform (below) over the fire and covered with banana leaves. The fire is low and smoldering to cook the meat well while imparting that unique smoky flavor and unmatched tenderness. This was Christmas dinner after a few hours of expert care by son-in-law as taught by his grandfather. It tasted scrumptious.

He also grows plantain (look like bananas, only bigger) which are known far and wide for their particularly sweet taste and are specially prized in the holiday season. We in the family get to enjoy it sliced and fried lightly with a pinch of salt as often as we want, lucky us. The sweetness is remarkable.

And for juice each day, my daughter goes out to the yard and picks whatever oranges, grapefruits or limes are ripe, adds water and maybe a little sugar and we drink it. In the evening, add rum and it's a rum punch. I'm getting spoiled and becoming a rum afficianado. El Dorado12 year or 1919 anyone?

Hugging Trees and Combing Olives

Have you ever combed a tree?  Really. It's the way olives are hand picked here in our little corner of the world. Each branch combed with a plastic comb to pull down the olives but not disturb the leaves.

And did you know that olives are beautiful when they're ripe? Both on the tree:

And up close and personal, even while olives rain on me, and branches brush my hair:

And once harvested, caught in the nets spread under the trees, they are particularly colorful in their earthy beauty:

They're then scooped up and bagged in tall burlap bags:

And taken to community presses to be made into olive oil, some of which we'll receive for our own use:

As it looked today, this was the view from my friend's yard where her 70, 30 year old olive trees live:

Harvesting olives by hand was a first for me. The day was sunny and 67 degrees, clear with the clean, fragrant air characteristic of towns further up into the mountains. 

The outdoors, the presence of friends, both old and new, the delicious, home made food prepared by my friend (the trees caretaker), the light hearted bantering and whole hearted tree hugging was such a rare and lovely way to spend a day. 

Combing a tree branch by branch turned out to be an intimate act of care and love. It made my heart happy. 

Vincent, too - Olive Grove by Vincent Van Gough:

Sunday Drive

When I was a young girl, my father liked to take us on Sunday drives through our greater Boston area and suburbs. I loved those drives and the glimpse into other lives. My husband was feeling a little low today so I hustled him into the car and took him on a Sunday drive through our current neighborhood.

The day was clear and sunny with high cumulus clouds.    

The mountains added dramatic back drops to the verdant fields everywhere in our region. The vines are laden with grapes and almost ready for harvest.

The hill towns perched on impossible vistas.

The Adriatic had ribbons of beautiful colors.

We even saw our own town from a different vantage.

His mood changed as we drove. Actually, we both felt full and blessed. Some traditions are worth preserving.

Our Granddaughters' Future

I was watching my granddaughter and her new best friend in Italy play with her brother's squirt guns. They squirted each other for a few shots but quickly turned to squirting the flowers and plants on the balcony, squirting the ground in pretty patterns, squirting the windows in earnest, even asking for paper towels so they could clean the windows!  They used his skateboard to taxi their bubbles and their dolls back and forth before laying on them like a surfboard and scooting around with their hands. The girls have enjoyed themselves and their activities for days now. We had the music going in the car one day when we were outside and caught them laughing and dancing in a free-spirited dance to Shakira's "Waka Waka"!

It brought up the discussion once again about the nature vs. nurture question re: girls and boys and me noting the differences once again if not coming to firm conclusions about their source. I remember having these discussions with my friends when my daughter was growing up and here they are again with my grandchildren. These sweet little girls in front of me making their innocent choices and being happy in the process if not genetically driven.

This got serendipitously linked to the post a few days ago from Patti at "PattiKen and The Muses" entitled The Choice. It's a heartbreaking, horrific, true story that is bound up in fundamentalism, fear of women and punitive, restrictive and lethal approaches to those who disagree or make alternative choices, usually women, but, in this case, a man also. I realize the inherent complexities of these issues and the lack of understanding I might have as an outsider but her message got heightened by my granddaughter and her friend- girls now, future women. What can we do to ensure their future choices, their right to make decisions and have them respected by the society they live in, their right to develop their abilities and express themselves in their unique personal way.

How can we together make sure this is the society we create for all our granddaughters, the only one we allow for all our granddaughters?

Traditional Irish Music Festival

The Scoil Samhraidh Willie Clancy is Ireland's largest traditional music summer school, held annually since 1973 in memory of the piper Willie Clancy. During the week, nearly a thousand students from every part of the world attend daily classes taught by experts in Irish music and dance. In addition, a full program of lectures, recitals, dances (céilithe) and exhibitions are run by the summer school. All events are held in and near Miltown Malbay in County Clare starting on the first Saturday in July. Lectures, recitals, concert and céilithe are open to the public (that would be me!).

Afternoons and evenings are spontaneous gatherings of the musicians young and old to jam together. Visitors go from pub to pub (or hotel or hall) in search of the music they like best and then stay to enjoy the sessions. The respect of young people for the elders and of the elders for the new ones coming up is evident and infectious. They all play together which seems such a rare but altogether wonderful treat. Anyone and everyone is expected to lead a tune in his or her turn and the others follow their lead.

I went to the couple's Set Dancing one day. That's couples dancing typical dances to the music of ceili bands. The bands delight setting the pace for these complex but fun dances and dancers feed off their energy and incite a good band to be even better. It can get pretty wild with the floor packed with sets of 4 couples in each group and dozens of groups.

You can get an idea of the energy! I found out that there are classes to learn the dozens of dances or at least get started learning, so next year, I have a goal! I had a lesson (thanks, Aidan) to learn one of the basic steps that I need to know to learn a dance. That video is below and a photo. I had a great time, though, so I'm definitely in for classes. I think it'll be a long process!

Fanny O'Dea's Pub

Here I am, your roving reporter in Lissycasey, County Clare in the west of Ireland. I'm visiting my husband's cousins and attending a traditional Irish music festival for the next 3 days but more about that in later posts. Today I wanted to introduce the local pub located just down the street: Fanny O'Dea's.  Pubs in these country areas are not just for drinking but are the gathering spots for local families to socialize, eat, drink, listen to music and dance. They're great, important, fun neighborhood places.

Fanny O'Dea's is an old Irish traditional pub. Not as in the various themed pubs that have sprung up everywhere but as in it's been serving food and drink since 1695 making it Ireland's oldest family run pub! It's located on a main road between the towns of Ennis and Kilrush and offers locals, strangers and passers-by alike a pub to flock to. The house special is the Egg Flip (like an eggnog) and laced with a generous drop of Jamison whiskey.

Daniel O'Connell, in 1828, was but one of the famous customers to sample the pub's hospitality. Much has remained unchanged since the early days  and Fanny's has retained it's old characteristics. The snug, a small separate area where years ago women were required to sit rather than mingle with the men at the bar, is still there as a cozy corner to enjoy with friends.  The fire never goes out in the huge fireplace and is kept going all day everyday of the year. These, together with the Egg Flip represent the customs that have been passed down from generation to generation.

There's also a wealth of local musical talent with every Saturday devoted to traditional music sessions since this western part of Ireland maintains traditional music and dance. The curent owners are direct decendants of the original Denis and Fanny O'Dea as the family is now in its 8th generation of ownership. It exudes the unique warmth and coziness you might associate with an old Irish country pub. A couple of years ago I was in Ireland for Christmas Eve. Can you guess where most of the parish gathered after midnight Mass? Fanny O'Dea's it was! Ahhhh, Ireland.

La Dolce Vita

I thought it would be big and glamorous, this Italian "sweet life". The great art, architecture, history, culture. That's here, of course. But, it turns out it's actually very simple. Yesterday was a good example. I took some time in the early morning to read a wonderful book, "Sara's Key", that broke my heart (open) once again. Then some snuggle time with my honey before heading for the beach. It's been hot these days and the Adriatic is close by. After a long beach walk and swim, I sat in the lovely pine forest that abuts the beach in Silvi to cool down further and read. Some friends came and joined us for a picnic in the woods- a Sunday tradition in these parts. Then back to the beach (30 yards away) for another walk and swim.
Other friends came and we sat at their stabilimento (section of beach with umbrellas and amenities) and played cards in the breezes of the porch next to the cafe. Since it had cooled down by about 7:00, we headed home for a delicious meal John made.
We walked up to our town at 10:00 for a fun music festival and booths of local crafts and food. There were plenty of music styles to choose from and everyone seemed to enjoy their choices best (mine was a celtic group). We again met friends to walk with and others to greet. It's thrilling to have more and more folks we can call by name and friends we like to share time with.
It was a perfect day filled with simple joys. A sweet life.

All Ages Included

We had a great block party for our neighborhood the other night and something struck me about it that has been true at the various festas and gatherings that I've attended here in Italy. Always there's such diversity of ages in any get together, from babies and young children up to elderly men and women and all ages in between. Makes me realize how age segregated we've become in the states and how the young don't get the chance to hang out with the old and vice versa. Here, all age groups are present and the folks at any age get to see examples of what to expect for themselves at the next age phase as well as enjoy one another. The socializing, singing, dancing or celebrations of local produce, saints, history or customs so prevalent all summer long brings everyone together in a rich way. It's fun having teenagers singing along with elders and children line dancing with parents and grandparents. Our block party was a blast! Even the evening passegiata brings out the whole community to stroll and greet one another and just be together. It feels good. From my perspective at 63 it is nice to be valued.

Palio delle Pupe

I was speechless! My mouth hung open the entire evening since I was just flabbergasted! It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It's a yearly contest of pupa (puppet) dancers. 14 of them compete for the designation of best pupa dancer to bring glory to their area of the city, Capelle sul Tavo. The costumes, the choreography, the fire works displays are planned, decided and made all year long. The palio (prize) happens on August 15, a huge feast day in Italy called Ferragosto, before an enormous crowd that fills the stadium bleachers, the surrounding hills and the grounds next to the contest arena.
The papier maché puppets are fashioned as beautifully decorated women and have large frames around them. The frames are embedded with various kinds of fireworks. The whole thing is heavy enough that it takes 5-6 men to lift it onto the man who is the dancer. A fuse is then lit to start the fire works and the man starts dancing around the stage to music. He continues dancing the entire time the fire works display is being shot from his frame. Some fire works shoot high into the sky in traditional fashion and some shoot out around him in synchronized displays that get the crowd hooting and hollering.
At times it looks very much like the stage is on fire as the still lit fireworks fallout showers down. The stage has to be swept off by 2 men in between dancers to clear this debris.
We went with friends who go every year and tried to tell us about it. But, really, how can you verbally explain something like this? It was astounding and the crowd loved it. We got some footage of one of the dancers, so you can see a little bit of it for yourself. Enjoy, we did!

Differences

Things I'm getting used to:
1. No clothes driers (they use too much electricity): Clothes get hung out to dry. It poses a little problem when living in an apartment since the (small) balcony is the only place to put the clothes rack. But, that's what I do. Of course, everyone else does too so it's just understood that's it okay to have your personals flapping in the breeze for all the world to see. In apartments with no balconies clothes are hung out the window. It's a common sight and a good use of all the sunshine we have.
2. Small refrigerators: food shopping is done daily or every other day in order to have what's freshest and in season. Fresh produce drives the menu. No need for gigantic fridges (they use too much electricity) and freezers. Open markets abound making local food readily available.
3. Bread boxes: bread is also bought fresh daily. Even the local chain supermarket bakes bread every day and puts it, fresh and crisp, in about 25 bins to be chosen by shoppers and cut to order by the woman who holds up large loaves like a hawker. It's always the longest line in the market.
4. Stores close daily at 12 or 1 until 4pm: it calls for an entirely different time management system to juggle this fact. I'm still figuring this one out and it catches me short more times than not.
5. Ditto eating dinner so much later and trying to get 8 hours of sleep and still be able to run early since it's so hot during the summer. Don't know how people who work do it either!
6. Making time each day to study Italian and still feel like such a novice in its use. It's just odd (and frustrating and sometimes isolating) to have a primary language and not be able to use it with most people.
7. Deciding what to do each day when work is not the organizing factor. The search for meaning in this new life phase is ongoing.
8. Distance from loved ones: I'm trying new things to keep in touch- regular emails to the grandkids as well as my daughter, facebook presence, blogs and blog reading, SKYPE, longer vacations when we get together. Any other suggestions?
9. The sheer beauty of where we live. It takes me by surprise on a regular basis.

Passeggiata

Our italian neighbors have a wonderful custom called the passeggiata, the public walk or stroll. Each evening, or most of them, individuals, couples or families go to their town center, or the beach promenade, and stroll along. They greet one another, chat and catch up with neighbors and friends. It gets folks out and walking, it takes time, it slows the day down for the coming night, it renews bonds. They're is really no other agenda. How lovely.

Paese

On Wednesdays and Saturdays, our Paese (village) has an open market. It's part farmer's market and part flea market. They sell everything from fruits, vegetables, cheese to flowers, plants, herbs to clothing, shoes, handbags to all manner of household items- tablecloths, cutlery, pans, curtains, cups, bowls, coffee pots, pillows and plastic flowers. I bought a basil plant for the balcony, fresh cherries for tonight's dessert and a set of expresso cups and saucers for when we have a kitchen and company.
I met 2 of our neighbors in Paese who invited us to sit and have a caffé. We cobbled a conversation together with some Italian, some English with some translating and teaching thrown in. It worked somehow and I was warmed by their friendliness.
Taking time with neighbors and friends is very important here. Friends and neighbors stop and visit, sit and visit, eat and visit, drink and visit, work and visit. Everything takes more time as a result, even good-byes take a long time.
Schools are open 6 days a week so they can close at 1 pm each day and students can join their families for the all important mid-day meal. Business's close from 1 - 4 pm so workers can join their families as well. The structure of society supports the cultural value of sharing food and time together.
Marco, a workman, came today to install our showers. Our neighbor who knows him invited him in for caffé first. I was annoyed and wondered why she was delaying his work. Then I remembered, welcome him, spend time, share food and drink. We weren't able to do that yet so she did. He did a fabulous job then including some extra work we needed done.
Relationships matter most. Relationships take time. Sharing food strengthens relationships. It's todays lesson. It's a good lesson.