| Céad míle faulty? A
survey by Tourism Ireland has found many tourists don’t find Ireland unique
enough anymore. Malcolm Rogers, who has just written the main Tourism
Ireland marketing book to encourage people from around the world to visit
Ireland’s shores, discusses the findings.
 Touristas don’t
find our island unique enough. A four-year survey of more than 28,000
holidaymakers has found that Ireland is no longer “a unique holiday
destination”.
Our cities are indistinguishable from other modern European cities, tourists
say, and indeed cheap flights to eastern Europe mean that British tourists,
or you dear reader sitting perhaps in Manchester or Glasgow, could now
visit ‘more exotic locations’ for the same price.
Which is a bit ironic really, because if hadn’t been for a certain
Irishman, budget air travel would never have got off the ground at all,
and nobody would have been going anywhere.
Unmoved by this, complaints about our unpredictable weather, high prices,
poor travel infrastructure and some residual concerns about the Bother
have emerged.
But the good news is that other Europeans, including the British, still
see Ireland as a ‘people’ sort of place, bless their hearts.
Visitors are still drawn here by the warmth and wit of the Irish, the
scenery and green, open spaces, and the craic in music and pubs, which
is seldom less than 90, with occasional gusts up to 120.
Other selling points are Ireland’s culture and history and our archaeological
landscape, with more history per square mile than you’d find in
Rome. As one leading archeologist put it: “You bet Jurassic”.
So are these latest criticisms levelled at the country justified, or on
the other hand are the expectations fulfilled? A mixed bag, really. Take
one constant criticism. Sometimes it seems as if the whole country is
holding a festival of litter. The abandoned mattress and the rusting car
are today as much a part of the Irish landscape as the Celtic cross or
the round tower. And down on the sea front it has been a matter, for many
years, of you dirty beach. But stricter EU monitoring, plus a tightening
up on fly-tipping coupled with the tax on plastic bags in the Republic
has improved matters greatly.
However, a blight which the EU seems powerless to prevent are the bungalows
galore. Whether holiday home or domestic dwelling, the standard architecture
in Ireland is Southfork meets Mexican hacienda. When De Valera spoke of
a countryside “bright with cosy homesteads” it’s doubtful
if he had in mind the outrageous colour of most of Ireland’s new
buildings. And ‘bright ‘ is a severe understatement. There
are colours on houses in rural Ireland that you wouldn’t see on
an LSD trip. Most look as if they’ve been built on the proceeds
of a lottery win spent entirely in Woolworth’s.
Lucky, really, that wide open spaces still exist where you can easily
take refuge. Remember, there’s only five million people living on
the whole island — that’s about half the people living in
London, so there’s a lot of open ground left over.
The character of the people is still perceived as one of Ireland’s
greatest attractions, unlike some EU countries. Last year the French government,
keen to improve the country’s image in the tourist stakes, persuaded
members of the travel industry in every arrondissement round the country
to sign a hospitality contract. This included being friendlier to visitors,
with “Bonjour” signs displayed about the premises.
It didn’t work particularly well — the bonjour signs tended
to be used as a substitute for bonhomie. When a visitor appeared, receptionists
would retain their air of studied insouciance, merely jerking a thumb
in the general direction of the sign.
Unlikely to happen in Ireland, where the default position of the majority
of people is to be helpful.
Even in bustling Dublin, you’ll get a degree of courteousness unknown
in other big cities. Recently I stopped to ask a thirtysomething guy the
way to Smithfield Market. He turned out to be not only helpful but friendly
as well, and happened to be going the same way. We enjoyed a
15-minute conversation ranging from his job (he was a civil servant) to
my quest in Smithfield. We were almost off for a pint together.
It was a small vignette which would happen in very few other cities in
Europe. But the funny thing is, my new friend dolefully told me that Ireland
just wasn’t a friendly place anymore.
Ireland has some of the most startlingly beautiful beaches in the world
— in fact the only thing habitually keeping people off them in the
summertime is the horizontal rain. And of course, the weather is something
that most people complain about, including the Irish themselves. In case
you’re away for a few days and you’re reading this on the
internet, it’s still raining. It sometimes seems as if God has inadvertently
left the tap on.
However you could certainly dispute one travel writer’s assertion:
“When the mist comes down on the Kerry mountains, you might as well
be in Scunthorpe.” Now that, squire, is libellous.
Nonetheless, we’re pretty much stuck with the weather. The only
thing for it is to be philosophical — for instance, marvel at the
greenness of the country. It isn’t that colour by accident, you
know. And anyway, tanned skin is damaged skin. So if someone should ever
ask you which clothes to bring to Ireland, just answer — all of
them.
As Brendan Behan put it — the weather’s so changeable you
wouldn’t know which clothes to take to the pawn shop.
Value for money is another common gripe. Accommodation can run from luxury
digs in five star castles to humble self-catering — with all stops
in between. The good, the bed and the breakfast. The latter have lost
out lately, partly because too many of them were Céad Míle
Fawlty Towers and partly because hotels have become relatively cheaper.
And they serve decent nosh.
Once upon a time, eating out in Ireland meant fish and chips, or for those
with deeper pockets, steak and chips. Chips with everything — and
sometimes they’d be left out overnight and served cold the next
day as salad. Hors d’oeuvres? That would be a ham sandwich cut into
40 pieces.
All is changed now. You can still get your chips, but first class cafes
and restaurants today serve what you might loosely call ‘Irish cuisine’.
Irish meat and fish are of the very highest quality and increasing numbers
of establishments know how to cook them.
An expanding number of restaurants have stumbled on the secret of how
to serve locally produced vegetables without cooking them to an unrecognisable
pulp. Irish restaurants might not have reached the level of the Paris
restaurant Gout de Noir — where customers dine in darkness to fully
appreciate the sensory nature of the flavours — but there is now
some internationally recognised luxury tucker on the go in these parts.
In short, Ireland is a great place for a holiday. It can be an ethereal
place, a gentle place — that is if you’re not partaking of
the pagan abandon in its pubs. And this paper can assure all tourists
that Céad Míle Fáilte doesn’t mean: “Here
comes another one.”
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