Why our safety-first staycation lacked a little lustre
THE last time I was on the Cork train – for my regular commute to the RTÉ studios – was March 12. In many ways, that was the day that s*** got real. Though I didn’t know it at the time, it was my youngest child’s last ever day in school; my own last day as a mother of schoolgoing children.
More immediately, it was the last day on which The Today Show allowed guests to come to studio on public transport. In the make-up room, there was barely controlled panic and fear. Forms had to be filled in and the makeup artist had to stand well back while we did our own make-up (hilarious for me, since I hadn’t brought any.) In the anxious atmosphere, I left a jumper there by mistake. I presume it’s still there, cocooning away.
But on the train, both there and back, it was business as usual.
In fact, the only indication that anything was up was the presence of one family of four, all wearing masks. I watched them disembark from the train and, to be totally honest, I thought they looked like over-reacting, under-informed eejits. It would be four months before I would be on public transport again.
But needs must, and since I had no desire to drive to Clifden last week, we are back. The good news is that Bus Éireann is nailing it.
Even before the new law came in, all the drivers of the buses we were on in Galway last week – and that was quite a roster – insisted that everybody getting on the bus wore a mask. We saw one driver turn a woman away because she had no mask and another berated a customer who wore one getting on the bus but then took it off. Reassuringly, all the drivers wore masks and used hand sanitiser between each interaction with passengers.
Irish Rail could have done better. Only about half the passengers on the train to Galway wore masks, and in our carriage alone – with apparently no patrolling staff policing the situation – there were several groups of young people sitting on prohibited seats. On the way back, station staff allowed too many people board a train that was running on half-capacity, with the result that many people had to stand in the crowded junctions between carriages, where some people weren’t wearing masks and some were drinking cans of beer.
I hope the situation has improved this week because it wasn’t at all reassuring. The world has changed since I scoffed at that family on the Cork train and Irish Rail needs to catch up.
But sure look. We got to dip our feet in the Atlantic Ocean and lie on a beach and watch the tide come in and out, and we needed that more than we’d even realised.
About two-thirds of the shops and restaurants in Clifden had reopened and there were lashings of hand sanitiser and plenty of masks, which seem more important now than ever because in small towns with narrow pavements, social distancing is almost impossible and, as the season continues, will only become more problematic.
IREALLY missed sitting outside a pub on a sunny afternoon for a single pint. I missed the chaos and craic of a pub heaving with holidaymakers and musicians on a rainy night. I wished the locals didn’t take a concerned step back when they hear a Dublin accent (though an American one has a far worse effect.)
And the initial novelty of being back in restaurants and bars quickly wore off – due to all that pre-booking and don’t-sit-there and handing over names and phone numbers – so by the end of our week away, we were largely eating in our accommodation.
I missed nightlife – it was nonexistent in Clifden last week – but I’m not sure I would be comfortable diving back into it either.
So how’s the 2020 staycation experience? As somebody who has taken a summer holiday in Ireland for every year of my life, I can affirm that it’s better to go than it is to stay at home. But it’s different, and, to be completely honest, it’s not as good. But if we all have our expectations lowered and our masks raised before we scatter to the four provinces, then we can all still enjoy a summer holiday. Just be careful out there.