Céad míle fáilte: Why our visitors keep coming back to Ireland
Zara Blueway, Co Meath Boyne From Co Meath, Mhuire, Trim, Enjoying The Scoil Broe
Our tourism figures show it, every year proves it yet again. Whether they are from France or Germany, the United States or Japan, neighbouring UK or faraway New Zealand and Australia, everyone, it seems, has a long-held desire to visit Ireland.
Their reasons may differ. Many come because their ancestors emigrated from this island long ago, in the hope of finding a new life, and now their descendants want to retrace their family history.
We have centres in many areas which willingly help these searchers after information to find those elusive links. And others visit because they are fascinated by old legends and beliefs, history, tales of the past, and know they will find them all alive and well here.
Others yearn to see a place where life seems to be lived at a slower pace, where tradition and old ways still hold firm, where there is always a smiling face and a welcome down every country lane.
Those of us who live here might see Ireland as totally changed from the old days, but to visitors that atmosphere is still very much there.
European visitors arrive armed with guide books and eagerly take in the ruined castles (who was it said that you couldn’t throw a stone in Ireland without hitting a castle? He was right), the constantly-changing views of sea and mountains, the ever-present greenness on all sides. They even delight in the cloud and rain (yes, really! They have said so. “The mist, it is so romantic!” We take all this beauty for granted, they don’t.
Americans can’t believe that real sheep and lambs can be seen in fields by the roadside (often reclining comfortably on the actual verges of the country lane, rendering driving an unfamiliar stick shift car on the ‘wrong’ side of the road even more of a challenge).
We take livestock in our countryside for granted. To visitors it is a never-ending delight, and it’s quite common to see a rental car haphazardly parked on the grass while eager passengers snap images of cute cows and adorable calves.
And the weather. We moan about it, but they love it. After all, if you are accustomed to strict seasons in your home country, with summertime dry and hot, often drought-ridden, then Ireland’s happy carefree habit of wandering from sunshine to showers, clear blue skies to black storm clouds, balmy temperatures to chills which necessitate pulling on a sweater (why do you think we have so many Aran sweater shops?), all in the space of an afternoon, is part of the charm and part of the memory.
Then there is the sheer smallness of Ireland. If you are an Australian, you have to take flights to visit friends and family. Here in Ireland they can’t be that far away. Nowhere is. (Although many visitors make the mistake of thinking they can zip from one end of this island to another in a single day. Not quite as easy as that.) If you farm in Oz, it’s probably on gigantic acreages. (Remember Crocodile Dundee: “anything under 1000 square miles up here is just a hobby farm”?) One visitor from Down Under couldn’t believe that in the house where he was staying they were quite happy with just a few dozen cattle instead of thousands. And he went out whenever it was raining and held his face up to the sky, entranced with our damp climate which contrasted sharply with the harsh dry interior of his own country.
And always there is the friendliness, the willingness to chat, to create instant friendships, exchange gossip and knowledge, the ability to break into music and song at the slightest chance. That’s irresistible for visitors from abroad, especially if their own culture is somewhat more restrained (ever tried striking up a conversation with a neighbouring table in a fashionable London or Parisian restaurant?).
It’s all about the difference to their own everyday lives, the contrast, and most of all perhaps an echo of an earlier, simpler time, with old values. We may think we’ve lost most of that, but our visitors don’t think so, and they keep coming.