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From Bray to Eternity Page 11


  We spent three days in Dingle that first time and set the pattern for what we would do in the future there. After getting out of our wet clothes, we changed and made a cup of coffee in our new home from home, sorted out our clothes and bedding and, as the rain had then stopped for a while, set off to walk into town. Over the years this was something Annette loved to do the first day we arrived, get into the mobile, have a cup of coffee, get changed and sort out our gear and if it was not raining, walk down to Maura de Barra’s which, some years later was to become John Benny’s, for a meal. Then we’d relax and listen to the music until late and get a taxi back to the mobile. It was these simple little routines that helped us break down the barriers that had come between us, and reawaken the love that was so nearly destroyed by my juvenile behaviour in Majorca.

  As we got ready to go home that October weekend, I won’t say our problems had been resolved, but I think it is fair to say we had made a good start. (I’m getting vibes from Annette agreeing with me on this)

  We did not go down to Dingle again that year, not until the St. Patrick’s week of 1999, but after coming home in October I felt a bit more hopeful that we could get back to what we’d had before. The chemistry was still there between us, even if the reaction of the elements was just a little bit slower in the emission of light.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Shortly after Christmas 1998 I took a big risk; without telling or consulting with Annette, I booked a holiday in the Las Palomas Hotel Porto Colome, and requested the same room we had been in the previous two years. I knew in my heart and soul this had the makings of a major disaster, but I truly felt that if we were to get over the problem between us, we, and particularly I, had to face it head on. We had spent and enjoyed three great weeks in Las Palomas and one which had been a nightmare. I really believed we had to exorcise that nightmare before we could make real progress, to go back face our demons and slay them.

  When I told Annette what I had done I was surprised by her reaction. I had expected I would have to justify and defend my actions, but Annette was philosophical about it and if I remember correctly only said something like, “do you think that’s a good idea?” And when I said I did, she simply replied “we’ll see.”

  Before we went on holiday to Majorca we were in Dingle about three times for varying lengths of time, from three days to almost a week. And each time we went down things got better, to the extent that on at least one occasion Annette initiated the love making. We had never stopped making love but needless to say sometimes it was not great. But in Dingle we did become closer again and enjoyed being in bed together in that snug little bedroom in the mobile.

  Being alone together in Dingle allowed us to talk about the year before without the fear of being interrupted, and Annette spelled it out to me in no uncertain way how hurt and humiliated she had felt by my action, which in turn hurt and humiliated me. We talked a lot and Annette got rid of a lot of the anger she felt towards me. I let her talk and took it square on the chin. I was really hurt by some of the things she said, but I know she needed to say them, and I was more hurt because of the obvious pain I had caused her. This was something that had to be done; Annette had to get rid of her anger and I had to listen to it and take it on the chin. We could not have done this at home as we would not have had sufficient time alone, and also we were able to let the tears flow freely knowing nobody was going to see us in a distressed state. If only for the opportunity of talking and crying our way back together, Dingle was worth buying. At every opportunity I told Annette how much I loved her and how sorry I was for my behaviour, in the hope that if I said it often enough she would begin to believe me and know what I did in Porto Colome was a once off and would never happen again.

  When the time came for us to go to Majorca I was less fearful than I had been when I booked the holiday. I had spent the last year wooing Annette as if I was only going out with her again, and she was beginning to see and know how remorseful I was about the way I had hurt her. Still this would be a huge challenge for us both and there was a bit of tension when it came time to go. When we reached the hotel I did feel a little tense and apprehensive, remembering how it was when we were last there, but Annette seemed quite relaxed and unperturbed.

  We checked in and got the keys to our room, 517 I think was the number. The same top corner room we’d had before. After unpacking our clothes I did not dare to go out on the balcony as I would normally have done, but Annette did. When I showed no sign of joining her she called me and told me to come out. I went out and rather nervously held Annette’s hand as we looked out over the magnificent vista of the Mediterranean which was before us. After a few moments Annette turned to me and said “we’ll be all right” and I knew then I had made the right decision in coming back to Porto Colome. While I had never stopped telling Annette I loved her, Annette’s expression of love for me was a bit watered down. I know she wanted to love me as she had in the past, but found it difficult to do so because of the hurt I had caused her and her fear that something might happen again if she loved me as unconditionally as she had in the past. I have not the slightest doubt that Annette never stopped loving me, but I also know it was for a time difficult for her to do so. But as we held hands on the balcony in the Los Palomas Annette looked at me and said “I love you” and I knew she once more meant it as much as she had in the past, before all the turmoil of the past year had caused us both such heartache. The risk had been worth taking as we had a great holiday, and the events of the year before did not cast a shadow over our third visit.

  After a few days of good food and wine and rest and relaxation, we were as comfortable as we ever had been together. We were soon making use of the balcony for outdoor recreation again. We went back to Porto Colome one more time after that because I felt we had to put a distance between the nightmare week and the more recent happy memories. And it worked; we relaxed and enjoyed all the resort had to offer. Anyone seeing us there that fourth time would never have guessed how big a part that little corner of Majorca had played in our lives and how close our thirty year marriage had been to ending there. It was saved because we both knew we had something worth saving, and worked hard to do so.

  Those two years, 1998 - 2000, were tough years for us and had we not had Dingle to escape to from time to time I’m not sure I would be writing this memoir now; our story could have been very different. Dingle gave us the space to confront our problem head on, away from our family and let the anger and tears flow freely, particularly the tears, which washed away the hurt and exposed the love that was always there and nourished it’s growth again so that the second phase of our life together was even more loving, caring and passionate than the first. So much so that Annette wrote a song for me in 2001 Since I started loving you baby which summed up our new relationship and her love for me.

  We had begun our journey back to where we were prior to June 1998 in Dingle but in June 2000 we were not quite there just yet. There was still a residue of sadness with Annette that it had happened at all. From time to time she told me that “stuff” was still an issue with her. Now it was her who was telling me she loved me and wanted to rid herself of this “stuff” that was coming up from time to time, causing her to question the love she felt for me. I had done all I could do and said all I could say to Annette to let her know how sorry I was and how deeply I loved her, and I knew at this point that she believed me, but there was still one final hurdle to get over in our new relationship, and that was cleared when we got the chance to renew our marriage vows. We, in effect, got married again, in Cana of Galilee on 16th October, 2000, during our trip to the Holy Land. That was the end of the nightmare that started in Majorca in 1998 and could so easily have resulted in us parting, but the love that had been forged over the previous thirty years proved to be stronger than the betrayal that threatened to tear us apart.

  We were now in a new marriage and the events of 1998 were never mentioned again. Both of us threw ourselves into it with as much enth
usiasm and passion as we had into our first marriage. For the next nine years we loved each other even more than we had thought it possible for any two people to love.

  That holiday in the Holy Land was memorable for more than our second wedding. It happened at the start of the Intifada which was precipitated by Ariel Sharon going on a visit to the temple mount in Jerusalem in September which upset the Palestinians. When it was time for us to go in October the fighting had started and there was a question as to whether we should or could go. Eventually, after a delay of six or seven hours at Dublin airport while the insurance implications of travelling to Israel at this time were explained to us most of the group booked to go went. A few decided not to go and had their luggage removed from the plane. The rest of us boarded the El-Al flight for Tel-Aviv.

  The first few days of the trip went without a hitch, but then the day we were due to visit the tomb of King David and the Wailing Wall all hell broke lose. Two Israeli soldiers were taken hostage and killed in a house in Gaza. Their bodies were thrown from the window onto the street below. This infuriated the Israelis who decided to close the crossing on the road from Jerusalem, where we were at the time, and Bethlehem, where our hotel was. The tour guide, who was Palestinian, was informed of the situation and immediately said we would have to leave the tomb of King David and forgo our planned visit to the Wailing Wall so we could get back to the hotel in Bethlehem before the crossings were closed.

  As we made our way back to our hotel we had to take a diversion off the main road as we encountered a battle between the Israelis and the Palestinians at a spot inside the Palestinian-controlled sector known as Rachel’s Tomb. Although this was inside the PLO controlled area, the tomb was sacred to the Israelis and the military maintained a presence there all the time. They came in and out by helicopter while under fire from the PLO. The diversion took us through what was in effect a housing estate on high ground, looking down on Rachel’s Tomb. As the bus made its way through the housing estate it came to a roundabout which was above the tomb. From some of the houses beside the roundabout PLO gunmen were firing at the tomb. The gunmen motioned to the driver to drive around the roundabout, and as he did so some of them used the bus as cover to get nearer to the tomb. For a few moments, until we cleared the roundabout we were in danger of being shot as the soldiers in the tomb returned fire at the gunmen firing from the cover of the bus. We managed to get back to the hotel unharmed but for a while the situation did not look too good for us, and at that point many of us questioned the wisdom of going on this trip at all.

  That night as we were having dinner we could hear the sound of battle outside the hotel. The Israeli army attacked the Palestinians who had erected barricades around their enclaves in the city. This went on for hours until near midnight when the sound of the shooting stopped. At this stage Annette and most of the others had gone to a convent beside the hotel to pray and I could not resist the temptation to venture out of the hotel and take a walk around the now silent and barricaded streets which were still manned by heavily-armed militia. My every move was watched, but I was not impeded at all. Annette and the others returned to the hotel before I got back and when Annette asked where I was, she was told by a hotel employee exactly where I was at that moment.

  Although I was free to walk the streets I was monitored all the way. As I walked around Bethlehem that night the thought struck me that it must have been like this in Ireland during the Civil War, as it was reminiscent of old photographs I had seen of that period of our history with militia men manning makeshift barricades at street corners.

  Next day things had returned to what passed for normal in Bethlehem, by that I mean the Israelis had withdrawn from the area controlled by the Palestinians. They were still out in force patrolling the streets with rifles and machine guns. The tour guide decided it was safe for the tour to continue so we set off in our bus for a trip to the Dead Sea.

  After a lovely day spent floating in the salt waters of the Dead Sea and a visit to Qumran, the site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, we started back to our hotel. The positions of the Israelis and the PLO had hardened by this time and we found ourselves caught in the middle. When we came to the position controlled by the Israelis on the Jerusalem/Bethlehem road, the Israelis did not want to let us pass through. After pleading that we were an Irish group of tourists, with no part to play in the conflict and nowhere to go to in Jerusalem as our hotel was in Bethlehem they let us through. The relief we felt about getting through was soon shattered when we came to the PLO position at the other end of the road. The PLO guards at the crossing decided that the Israelis were not the ones who would get to say who got into the area they controlled. They refused to let us through to our hotel in Bethlehem. Again we pleaded that we were Irish but it made no difference as the PLO guards pointed their guns at the guide and driver and told them to turn the bus and go back to Jerusalem. We went back to the Israeli’ controlled crossing in the hope of getting some sort of accommodation in Jerusalem but the Israeli attitude was the same as the PLO – they would decide who entered Jerusalem, not the PLO. So we were sent back to the other end of the road again.

  After two more trips up and down the Jerusalem/Bethlehem road and been refused admission to either city we were in no man’s land and night was fast approaching. At this point the Irish tour company representative phoned the Irish Embassy or Consulate which I think was in Jerusalem and the Ambassador was on the case very quickly. We had another wait of about an hour and then he came and spoke to us. By this time we were hungry and annoyed at the treatment that had been meted out by both sides in the conflict. After heated exchanges it was made clear to the Ambassador that we wanted to get back to our hotel and get something to eat, that we’d had enough ‘tooing and froing’ up and down the road.

  The Ambassador spoke to the PLO guards and explained our position, that we were only a group of pilgrims in their country who sympathised with their cause but they were doing that cause no good by the way we were being treated. After prolonged discussions we were eventually allowed through. But relief at being allowed to return to our hotel soon turned to fear as we reached it. Darkness had fallen as we disembarked from the bus, tired and hungry after our ordeal on the road. But as we entered the hotel we were met by heavily-armed PLO soldiers. They had taken over the hotel to get the food which they said they wanted for the people of Bethlehem because the Israelis had blocked supplies reaching the city. As we were marshalled into the foyer of the hotel by armed soldiers we were told by one of the leaders of the PLO we would not be harmed, but we could not stay in the hotel any longer. We were given one hour to pack and vacate the hotel.

  Personally I did not need an hour. I took Annette’s arm and led her up to our room and as she packed, I tried to ring the Irish Independent in Dublin. I was hoping I could make a few pounds by letting them have an exclusive story from the frontline of battle. Alas my exclusive never reached the front page as the PLO had cut the phone lines.

  In less, far less than the hour we had been given we were all back in the bus ready to go, to where we did not know. The militants did not allow us to have a meal before we were sent on our way, but they did allow the hotel staff, who were very upset at the way we were being treated, to give us water for our journey. So after taking a few crates of bottled water aboard the bus and saying goodbye to the hotel staff we left Bethlehem and drove into the night. When we were a sufficient distance from the hotel the guide stopped the bus and told us we were going to Tiberias in the north of the country. Tiberias was on the itinerary of the tour, but we were not due there for another day or so. As we had not eaten, the guide explained that we would stop at a shop and get some bread, cold meat and anything else that was available and eat on the way.

  Outside the city of Jerusalem we stopped at a delicatessen and got our supplies, and then we had one of the most wonderful experiences of the holiday. We drove into the hills overlooking the city of Jerusalem and in a clearing which gave us a spectacular view of the city
by night, we had a midnight picnic. Jerusalem was spread out like a sea of twinkling lights below us. If there was ever a time and place to sing that anthem “Jerusalem, Jerusalem” this was it, and we did.

  We reached Tiberias after an all night drive across the desert and in the early hours of the morning reached our hotel and luckily the hotel was ready for us. The rest of the holiday, after all the excitement we had experienced, was quite normal and we encountered no more hostility.

  From Tiberias we went to Cana, and during the course of the visit we got the opportunity to renew our marriage vows. We had been told before we left Tiberias that this might be possible, but it was not certain. The unrest in the country meant things tended to change quite suddenly. This was an unexpected turn, renewing our marriage vows, and one we had not anticipated. But when it was mentioned I asked Annette would she like to do it. She did not hesitate and said she would. After a visit to the market in Tiberias and a walk around the town and places of interest we were brought to the wedding sanctuary. We entered the church and had an introductory talk by a priest on the history of the sanctuary and the area. He then said he would officiate at a short ceremony to renew the marriage vows of any couples who wished to do so. Without a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed Annette’s hand and almost pulled her from the church pew up to the altar, ahead of everyone else. Compared to the last time we’d exchanged marriage vows the dress style was somewhat different, instead of long white dresses, veils and elaborate hairstyles, it was very casual. Annette wore a sari type wrap around skirt over shorts which she had been wearing, she brought this skirt with her for use when visiting churches, a yellow t-shirt, sandals and a brightly coloured silk stole which she put over her head during the ceremony. I was dressed in a blue t-shirt, light grey trousers and light slip on shoes.