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I sleep well even though the traffic below my bedroom is fairly persistent all night. I am one of only two guests at the B+B, so breakfast is quiet. I phone Mrs. Murphy in Waterford to reserve a single room for two nights and then a double for
Saturday when my cousin Mike arrives and we begin the "Sam and Eddie Memorial Ireland Tour," for which Mike has created T-shirts in honor of our late fathers. I check the train station for train times from Limerick to Waterford and have to fend for myself since there is no clerk at the window. I later find
out from a clerk that I am only half right in my train information. There's only one train out of Limerick Saturday, not two as I thought. I manage to wake cousin Mike back in Michigan when I call him this morning at 6:30 a.m., his time. His bike is packed, and it sounds
like he's tanned, rested, and ready. Today is just a pleasant transition day of wandering around the city of Wexford. The radio, newspapers, TV, and the people all proclaim that Ireland is booming, and from all construction appearances that seems true. This morning an
analyst on the radio notes that the "boom" should continue at least for another ten years. And certainly Wexford is experiencing significant growth. There is all sort of major work taking place along their harbor. They've dredged the previously silt-clogged and
nearly unusable harbor and are now engaged in creating boat slips and walkways, and the bay front area will become a linear park. Throughout the city center there is massive digging up of streets, replacement of water and sewer pipes, placement of TV, phone, and other cable. One hopes that the housing boom doesn't
create the "ribbon" development of Galway or worse the kind of massive explosion of population as occurred around Chicago in the early 50's when I was growing up. This growth brought such a density of population that the thirty miles of farmland in 1950 between O'Hare Airport and Elgin to the northwest is now all suburban Chicago. This could happen here in Ireland because the locals tell me that the population now is actually beginning to grow unlike the past when it literally shrank, or, in good times, remained static. There was never enough work in Ireland to keep the young people here and they often migrated to England, Australia, or the United
States. This migration still seems generally true on the west coast, except for Galway. Retired people are most obvious in the western countryside. The young move to the cities or out of the country.
Wexford is a delightful city in which to wander and to people watch. The one long main street is where most of the important historical spots are: The Bull Ring where Bear Baiting took place in the 17th Century, the old marketplace, the
birthplace of Buffalo Bill's father, etc. As I have coffee and write in my journal, I watch a stream of green-uniformed grade schoolers file into the cathedral. They are all holding hands as they do at that age, and they are remarkably cute, but as I've said before, Irish children lose that innocence fast. By the time they hit high school they have an ample display of tattoos and pierced body parts. In fact, as a people, I don't find the Irish particularly attractive - they aren't unattractive, but they just don't seem to stand out. Many suffer from bad teeth. Their ruddy complexions are often accompanied by weak chins and, of course, often light or red hair. However many Irish have dark hair and blue eyes, being born with light, almost white hair but by their early years, say six, their hair turns dark, but the blue eyes remain.
I watch a street musician play bagpipes as a woman a half block away sings badly to his piping. She's trying to make some extra coin also, but she's annoying the piper. I have lunch, wander to the B+B, and write a
fax to Marcia which I'll send as I exit town and head for Waterford. There's no biking today; just walking. But that's a pleasant break for the legs.
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