Day 91: Galway (Clifden, Connemara)

Today, we started the day without any hitches: a relaxed breakfast, the rucksack packed calmly, and everyone on board before eleven o'clock. I already know the ritual: first, the humans' coffee, then the "do we have everything?" check (spoiler alert: something's always missing), and finally, my ceremonial climb into the car, like a rock star getting into their limousine.

We drove for an hour and a half to the Connemara Heritage & History Centre, which promised to show us the history, culture, and traditions of this land, which is as wild as it is beautiful. But when we arrived... absolute silence. No visitors, no staff, no sound of epic bagpipes. Just us, a couple of sheep in the distance, and a closed building that seemed to be on indefinite pause. We stretched our legs, did a mini-exploration out of courtesy, and continued on our way.

Ten minutes later, we were parking in Clifden, a charming town that serves as the unofficial capital of Connemara. Low, colourful houses, a peaceful atmosphere, a few shops with magnets that nobody needs but everyone looks at, and streets that smell of bakery and sea at the same time. We strolled around for a while, made some impromptu purchases, and when coffee started to be urgently needed, we found a perfect terrace.

We sat down, and what was going to be a quick coffee inevitably turned into a light lunch: sandwiches, wraps, crisps, soft drinks, and fresh air. I, from under the table, kept a professional eye on the floor. A little piece fell, I won't say from whom.

After refuelling, back to the car. We stopped at the Connemara National Park, parked, and set off on the three-kilometre circular path. An hour's walk through gentle hills, low vegetation, clean air, and that silence that's only broken by the occasional distant sheep. We went up, down, breathed, and enjoyed it. I took the opportunity to leave my olfactory signature at key points along the route, just in case we come back one day and I want to show off.

The walk over, back in the car again. It was time to make the most of the visit to Kylemore Abbey, one of the most photogenic places in all of Ireland. We arrived at quarter past five, and they were closing at six. The entrance, in addition, cost eighteen euros per person. We did the sums, looked at the clock, and decided we'd see it from the outside, which isn't so bad either. The building is impressive: a castle-refuge in the middle of the forest, with a lake, reflection, and an aura of a romantic film with a storm.

From there, we returned by a different route, just as scenic and with fewer cars. We stopped in Leenane, right at the Leenane Hotel, for a comforting coffee. Terrace with views of the fjord, gentle breeze, and me stretched out as if I'd been there all my life.

Afterwards, one last long stretch of road: over an hour to get to the apartment in Galway. It was eight o'clock. It was time to rest, have dinner, go through the photos of the day, and laugh at silly things. The atmosphere with Daddy Edu, Uncle Joan, and Aunties Mariola and Nita couldn't be better. And me, in the middle of everyone, as always.