Tag: literature

Following the Pied Piper trail in Hamelin, Germany

 

 

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Eminem rapped about him. Abba made him the subject of a b-side. And even Megadeath referenced him in one of their songs.

We’re talking about the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

I spent much of the last week in Germany with my seven year old, Maya, on his trail. And on assignment for National Geographic Traveller Family magazine (issue out Jan 2014).

The journey took us by train from Chester to Hamelin via London, Brussels and Cologne – thanks to Rail Europe and Virgin Trains.

Hamelin was our base, and the Piper story our focus, but the legend also forms part of a wider tourism project, the German Fairytale Route.

This runs some 600km from Hanau to Bremen and takes in sites associated with the Germany’s favourite purveyors of dark-comic fairytales, the Brothers Grimm.

We uncovered a mix of historical fact, fairytale fiction and moral message-making during our trip.

We also found a connection to the English poet Robert Browning (of My Last Duchess fame), whose 1842 poem The Pied Pier of Hamelin [see image below] popularised the story in Britain:

All the little boys and girls / With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls / And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls / Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after / The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

Best of all for Maya, we had our own private guide to the legend behind the fairytale from the modern-day Pied Pier [pictured above].

The idea of following a man in a dayglo suit around the historic old town while he played the soprano saxophone took some getting used to. Especially as he was besieged with picture requests from adoring fans as we trampled the cobblestone sidestreets behind him.

But eventually we got into our stride, mixing up tales of Middle-Ages Hamelin with life as one of two of the town’s full-time, latter-day pipers.

Maya, demonstrating a fledgling propensity for investigative journalism, quizzed him on how it felt to play the role of a Horrible Histories-style figure from the past.

It is, we discovered, a bit like being like the actor Robert de Niro.

“It’s method, not acting,” the Piper told us. “You have to live it.”

The illusion was only slightly shattered when we saw him later that same day in dress-down civvies.

His real name, it transpires, is Brian.

Gazetteer

Hamelin Pied Piper tours

German Fairytale Route

Rail Europe

Virgin Trains

 

Blogging the Dylan Thomas centenary

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Wales marks the centenary of Dylan Thomas’ birth in 2014.

The celebration of Wales’ literary poster boy kicks off on October 27 (his birthday) this year with the annual Dylan Thomas Festival in Swansea.

An exhibition of new work by the artist Peter Blake, inspired by Under Milk Wood, opens at the National Museum Cardiff on November 23.

Events then run through to November 2014 with a host of performances and exhibitions across Wales under the artistic direction of Hannah Ellis, Dylan’s granddaughter.

Thomas is most closely associated with Swansea (his birthplace) and Laugharne [his first Laugharne home pictured above].

He lived in the latter in West Wales during his golden period before his death on an American reading tour in 1953.

But his mark across Wales is far greater.

From physical locations, such as the old family home in Newquay to the National Library of Wales in Aberystwyth, where a new archive is based, and Bangor University, where one of the festival’s major musical events will be staged.

I’ll be following the journey this autumn and guest blogging along the way for the Dylan Thomas 100 Festival website.

Read my first guest blog, The Dylan Thomas Birthday Walk.

* Update: now also published:

A Visit to the Apple House

Sir Peter Blake

Time Passes and Under Milk Wood

Return Journey

Mumbles and Gower

Story of the week: Sailing with the pirates of County Mayo

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This is the latest post in a weekly series, highlighting stories from my travel-writing archive with no active link. I’m running them here in full. Subscribe to posts at this website for more. Read another of my stories from Ireland, A Cultural Tour from Belfast to Derry.

It starts with a single rocky outcrop and ends with a scattering of 365 islands.

In between the sweeping County Mayo coastline provides a dramatic counterpoint to the mainly rural inland area where life is slow, Gaelic widely spoken in some areas and the traditions of a bygone era still very much alive. Visitors are the exception here, not the norm.

But that’s all about to change. Word of an ancient folk tale, lost for years and until recently undocumented, is stirring interest in a lesser-known region.

County Mayo, with Westport as its maritime hub, offers a gentle-paced spring escape with relaxed coastal drives, walking on deserted, open beaches and excellent local seafood – all without the hordes of nearby Galway.

It also offers a brush with a pirate queen.

Ship ahoy 

The tale revolves around Grace O’Malley, the 16th-century folk heroine, as uncovered by Dublin-based writer, Anne Chambers.

Known as Granuaile (Bald Grace) in Gaelic, a reference to the time she cut off her hair to stow away to sea, her eventful life spanned two husbands, two stints in prison for piracy and numerous seaborne battles at a time when the Machiavellian court of Queen Elizabeth I was seeking to overthrow the Gaelic law of the Irish aristocracy.

The O’Malley clan, with its strong seafaring tradition, dominated County Mayo through trade and force.

Grace, although barred from becoming a clan chief under Gaelic law, readily adopted the mantle of head of the fleet after the death of her father, Owen ‘Black Oak’ O’Malley.

Known as a tactician as well as a fearless warrior, she commanded a flotilla of three galleons and an army of 200 men at the height of her marauding powers.

“I was fascinated as a child by the folklore surrounding Grace and always wondered if she was more than just a legend,” explains Anne, who spent four years painstakingly poring over ancient manuscripts to piece together the true life story of Ireland’s long lost folk heroine.

“She was preserved by Elizabethan state papers and verbal folktales, but ignored by the history books as she was not only a woman, but an outrageous woman. Hence she was systematically written out of the history books for over 400 years.”

Armed with a copy of Anne’s book, Granuaile, Ireland’s Pirate Queen 1530-1603, a sense of adventure to explore the rugged coastal landscape and a taste for a drop of the black stuff, I set out to follow in the footsteps of the woman behind the legend.

Go West 

My base was Westport, a genteel little town with two sweeping boulevards of restaurants, traditional high-street traders and cosy pubs. The town makes for a good base to explore the region and feels untroubled by modernity.

To the western fringe of town, close to where Westport Lake opens up into the harbour, I make Westport House the first stop on my quest.

A stately home built in 1730, and still owned today, by the Browne family, direct descendents of Grace O’Malley, the approach is marked by a bronze statue of Grace, who stands guard over the ample grounds.

John Browne III married Maud Bourke, Grace’s granddaughter, to link the two family dynasties, but it was their grandson, John IV, who set about transforming the erstwhile O’Malley castle into modern-day Westport House.

“Grace was a mythical figure, a women out of her time, but as a child, we didn’t talk about her much at home. Before Anne’s book, we had only folk tales, not facts,” explains Sheelyn Browne, Grace’s thirteenth great-granddaughter, over coffee in the library.

“I’m proud to be her descendent. For me, she reflects the natural environment of the West: rugged, wild and uncompromising.”

A short stroll along the promenade from Westport House, the harbour looks south across Clew Bay, offering my first views of the majestic, mist-shrouded Croagh Patrick, the holiest peak in Ireland where St Patrick – allegedly a Welshman, since you ask – banished venomous serpents from Ireland forever.

Island life

I board a small passenger rib that ferries visitors around the sweeping expanse of Clew Bay and chug out towards the island of Carraigahowley.

One of only a handful of inhabited communities amongst the 365 islands in the bay, it’s home to the well-preserved ruins of one of the myriad of castles built by the O’Malley along the west coast.

On a bright morning with sea-spay in my face, the harbour is alive with wildlife: herons, a colony of seals and a last few local colonies of nesting choughs.

Upon arrival, Carraighowley Castle, where Grace sometimes lived, feels a suitably atmospheric liar for a pirate queen with its stone tower, winding, spiral staircase and lofty top floor with slit windows to keep watch over the nearby harbour.

Achill Island, located 30 miles north of Westport, is home to another O’Malley castle, Grainne Uaile, in the village of Kildownet.

A dramatic stone tower looming menacingly over the tiny village, it’s best approached by following the glorious Atlantic Drive. This vista-packed route hugs the coastline and leads, via the surfing beach at Keel and a Blue Flag beach at Keem Bay, to Achill Head, where Atlantic foam crashes against stark rocks.

It feels like the end of the world – and almost is. The next stop is the east coast of America, some 300 miles across the North Atlantic.

But the most evocative location to feel the presence of Grace is Clare Island, just one of three inhabited islands in Clew Bay. Grace grew up here, learnt her seafaring skills in the small harbour and later returned to build her castle on the headland.

Today, Clare Island, a sweep of sandy beach and a workaday harbour with fisherman hauling lobster pots, is deliciously tranquil. I hike along the harbour wall, cutting inland along a flower-strewn country lane in search of the final stop on Grace’s trail, the island’s 12th-century Cistercian Abbey.

Overlooking Achill to the north and the island of Inishturk to the southwest, Grace is allegedly buried here amongst the stone graves having died peacefully in 1603.

Girl power

Grace had travelled to London in 1593 and brokered a deal – woman to woman – with Elizabeth I, allowing her to live out her days in peace, securing the release from prison of her second son and stopping the royal-appointed governor, Sir Richard Bingham, from infringing on her territory.

Some historians suggest that it was her actions, kneeling before the queen and ceding control in the name of peace, which led to her being written out of Irish history.

“She inspired local music, drama and she’s now even on the school curriculum in Ireland. But, most of all, she has finally been written back into history,” says Anne Chambers.

“Maybe she’s the epitome of early feminism – she was as much a matriarch as a warrior.”

As my eyes adjust to the gloom inside the abbey, ancient paintings and murals depict scenes of life: hunting with spears, dragons, greyhounds. On a wall by the altar I find the faded limestone, carved with the O’Malley coat of arms, which marks the end of my quest.

The clan motto, terra marique potens, carved in faded letters, reads, appropriately enough for a pirate queen, “powerful by land and sea”.

This story was first published in Coast magazine in 2008. 

Have you got an angle on a story from Westport, or County Mayo?

Post your comments below.

Reading up on D.H. Lawrence around Nottingham

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I’ve been away somewhere exotic. A place where the taxi drivers call you, “Me duck,” and the cobs are something you eat for lunch, not get on.

Yes, the East Midlands.

More precisely the city of Nottingham and the former mining town of Eastwood, just outside the home of Paul Smith and Rock City.

Nottinghamshire boasts a slew of literary connections, notably Lord Byron, Alan Sillitoe of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning fame and, the subject of my research trip, David Herbert Lawrence.

Lawrence is known best for his outspoken views on sexuality yet, like Wordsworth (the subject of another of my recent commissions), his description of the sensuous quality of nature is the most compelling aspect of his work.

In Sons and Lovers, his breakthrough and unabashedly auto-biographical novel, which celebrates the centenary of its publication this year, he writes:

The hills were golden with evening; deep in the wood showed the darkening purple of bluebells. It was everywhere perfectly still, save for the rustling of leaves and birds.

Local Heritage Assistant Carolyn Melbourne (pictured above in the doorway of 8a Victoria Street, the cottage where he was born and now a museum to his early life) took me on a whistle-stop tour of the sites associated with Lawrence and his early work.

She will be leading Sons and Lovers theme tours of Eastwood during the D.H. Lawrence Festival in September.

Lawrence was an outsider and spent many itinerant years travelling the world with his lover, Frieda von Richthofen. His journeys informed a new genre of travel writing, different to the likes of Patrick Leigh Fermor.

But it’s the way he describes the flawed interior lives of his characters, many based on real-life people, that sounds so fresh today. These people, facing emotional turmoil and struggling to reconcile it, are living amongst us now. They are us.

Lawrence writes in the short story, Odour of Chrysanthemums:

Was this what it all meant – utter, intact separateness, obscured by the heat of living? She had denied him what he was. She had refused him as himself. And this had been her life, and his life. She was grateful to death, which restored the truth.

Do you have a favourite haunt of D. H. Lawrence around Nottingham? Are you planning to visit the city during the festival?

Post your comments below.

Read more about D.H. Lawrence in Nottinghamshire here.