Lost in Galway (Literally): A Day of Sports, Culture, and a Bus Mishap
- Tiffs Travels
- Apr 18
- 5 min read
After a few days of coastal drives, city streets, and more sheep sightings than we could count, our day in Galway brought something totally unexpected: athletic glory. Or at least, a valiant attempt at it. It was one of the most immersive and joy-filled days of our time in Ireland, full of laughter, local flavor, and a deeper connection to Irish culture than we ever could have planned.
We kicked off the day by hopping on Galway's public transportation and heading out to the suburbs for a Gaelic Games Experience. Nestled among residential neighborhoods and rolling green fields, we met our guide for the morning: a local legend who had been part of the Galway GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) club for as long as he could remember. You could tell from the moment he greeted us that these games were not just sports, but something much deeper—threads of identity, tradition, and pride woven into the Irish cultural tapestry.
The Spirit of the Games: Gaelic Football and Hurling
Before we even picked up a stick or laced up our trainers, we sat in rapt attention as he shared the history and heart behind Ireland's two national games: hurling and Gaelic football. The GAA, founded in 1884, was established not only to promote Irish sports but also to preserve Irish culture during a time when English influence threatened to overshadow local traditions.
Hurling, often cited as the oldest field game in Europe, dates back over 3,000 years. It’s said to be older than recorded Irish history itself, with references in ancient myths and legends. The sport is a high-speed blend of lacrosse, field hockey, and baseball—with a dash of medieval battle. Players wield a wooden stick called a hurley and try to strike a small ball (sliotar) either into a soccer-like goal for three points or over the crossbar between two posts for one point.
Gaelic football combines elements of soccer and rugby and is played with a round ball that's slightly smaller than a soccer ball. Players can kick, hand-pass, or carry the ball while moving across a large rectangular field with H-shaped goalposts at either end. It’s a physical, fast-paced game, and it takes serious skill to master.
As Americans, we were wide-eyed trying to keep up with the rules, but we were totally hooked. The cultural significance hit home too: Gaelic games aren’t just sports. They’re community lifeblood. Towns and villages all across Ireland have their own clubs, and every summer, the country practically holds its breath for the All-Ireland Finals at Croke Park in Dublin.
Field Drills and Flailing Hurleys
Once we had our crash course, it was time to head outside and see what we were made of. We each got our hands on a hurley and sliotar, and suddenly we were kids again—awkwardly swinging, dropping balls, and trying our best not to hit each other in the shins. Our instructor put us through drills, just like in youth sports: running lines, practicing hand-passes, and shouting encouragements. With the sun on our faces and endorphins in full gear, we channeled our inner hurlers and footballers.
Let me tell you: hurling is hard. The shape and weight of the hurley feel similar to a baseball bat, but the technique is completely different. More finesse, less brute strength. After many missed swings and a few well-timed hits, we finally started to get the hang of it—sort of. Our group cheered wildly anytime someone actually made contact with the sliotar.
Gaelic football came a bit more naturally to us. Maybe it was the muscle memory of soccer and touch football from our childhoods, or maybe we were just warmed up by then. Either way, we ended our time with a spirited match, complete with dramatic dives and more than a few collisions. It's a rough-and-tumble sport, but we laughed the whole way through. Without a doubt, it was one of the highlights of our trip.
Post-Game Refuel: Supermac’s
After all that exercise, we were ravenous. We made our way back into town and followed a strong recommendation from our driver Eric, who swore by Supermac’s—the Irish answer to American fast food. Founded in Galway in 1978, Supermac’s has become something of a national institution. It felt familiar and foreign all at once: fries, burgers, and chicken sandwiches, all with a distinctly Irish twist.
With greasy fingers and full stomachs, we laughed about our sports heroics and then hit the city for some proper exploring.
Living Hope in Galway
One of the most meaningful parts of the day came shortly after lunch. I was thrilled to meet up with Chris Johnston, a local missionary our church supports, and see firsthand the incredible work he and his wife Lorena are doing at Living Hope Church in Galway. Chris welcomed us into their space, and we were able to hear how the church is growing—reaching locals, building community, and offering hope.
In a place as culturally rich and religiously complex as Ireland, it was encouraging to see a gospel presence flourishing. Their space was modest, but the impact was anything but. It reminded us that even in our travels, we’re still part of something bigger.
Cathedral Splendor and Accidental Suburban Tours
After our visit, Alicia and I set out to do a bit more sightseeing, starting with the breathtaking Galway Cathedral. Officially named the Cathedral of Our Lady Assumed into Heaven and St. Nicholas, it’s one of the largest and most impressive buildings in the city. Built in the 1960s on the site of an old prison, the cathedral is a blend of styles—Renaissance, Romanesque, and even a little Gothic. The stained glass windows were absolutely stunning, and we were surprised to find a mosaic tribute to none other than JFK, who visited Ireland just months before his assassination.
Galway Cathedral is not just a place of worship, but a symbol of resilience and renewal. After centuries of turmoil, colonization, and religious conflict, this space stands as a testament to faith, culture, and peace.
Now, here’s where our flawless navigation record took a hit. I—blissfully unaware—hopped us onto a bus without checking its direction, and off we went… the wrong way. Suddenly, we were back in the suburbs again, far from our hotel and the city center. We had a good laugh, admitted defeat, and called an Uber to rescue us.
Spa Dreams Deferred
Once back at the hotel, we decided to take advantage of the aquatic center on site. Visions of cannonballs and hot tubs danced in our heads, but we hit a snag: mandatory swim caps. Apparently, in Ireland (and much of Europe), swim caps are required at public pools.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have any and weren’t allowed in the pool. So my streak of cannonballing in different countries (currently standing at five continents!) had to wait. Still, the hot tub was glorious, and after a morning of running drills and dodging hurleys, we were more than happy to soak and unwind.
A Pub to End the Day
That evening, after a quick shower and a possible cat nap, we headed out to a local pub for dinner. There’s something magical about Irish pubs—the warmth, the music, the storytelling. We clinked our glasses, laughed about the bus mishap and our sports endeavors, and swapped stories with fellow travelers and locals alike.
As the day wound down, we couldn’t help but dream about what tomorrow would bring. Galway had welcomed us with open arms, challenged us on the pitch, fed us well, and reminded us why travel is such a gift. It connects us—to history, to culture, to each other, and to the joy of simply being in a new place with open hearts and tired feet.
We fell asleep that night with sore muscles, full stomachs, and grateful spirits.
Stay tuned—there’s still more Irish magic to come.
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