I might’ve been a bit on a whiter shade of pale when I descended the stairs to have breakfast in the kitchen.
Eternal fire of an old Aga coal oven warmed up the kitchen, but I was shivering.
July in Southern Ireland wasn’t that cold, but the humidity got into my bones and marrows.
But it wasn’t the only reason to make me shiver.
An Irish ghost house took a great part in drawing a chilling atmosphere and gave me goosebumps.
I slowly find my words:
– I had a really strange dream…
– I knew you could see them. She’s smiling curiously, impatiently waiting for me to continue.
She has purposely sent me to sleep in that room!
Disclaimer: This article doesn’t include any pics from Ireland as ghosts are invisible, thus cannot be photographed.
To be honest, after writing this article, I noticed all of my pics taken in Ireland were securely stored in Finland, and I was not.
So I’ll share this post with random photos I’ve taken around Europe.
Dublin trip accidentally hauls us to Youghal
Ryanair flight to Dublin takes off from Tampere airport. We are leaving for our first gig in Ireland with my journalist partner in crime. It’s anno domini 2008.
We are figuring out missing parts of our journey, discussing arrangements, and interviewees we’ll need to find to get our work finished.
The lady sitting on a window seat next to us cuts in. She’s talking a bit of old-fashioned Finnish, having a British accent, but definitely sharing the same secret language of Finnish with us.
She says that she has lived in Great Britain and Ireland for decades and might be able to help us in our work.
This is how we befriended Raili.
We get our work done in Dublin. It’s time to get to the Southern side of Ireland, accepting Raili’s kind offer to stay in her townhouse.
Her paths haven’t been that straightforward leading into this beautiful coastal town of Youghal.
She’s bought this huge house only for herself.
And it isn’t just any house, but a building built over many centuries, yet its history and background are unknown even to the inhabitants of Youghal.
Even Raili herself doesn’t know how many bedrooms there are in her lovely Irish townhouse.
We try to figure that out by staying in as many as we can.
We return to this house again and again, but we can never solve it out.
There are probably 13 bedrooms, maybe, but if you’d knock down some more walls, you could easily find a few more.
The only thing certain is that the house is haunted.
Irish ghost house or Hotel California?
This house hooks me. I start humming the Eagles song Hotel California.
The song – and California are familiar and beloved already since my teenage.
”Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year
You can find it here”
The house keeps calling my name. After our visit in July, we returned to Youghal and Raili’s house in November.
This time, we are accompanied by our spouses.
Autumn weather in Ireland is even better than in July.
We do a bit of hiking and enjoy the sunny days.
Raili has appointed Ismo and me to a different room than where I stayed a few months earlier.
Despite the nice sunny days, nights are chilly.
There is an “electric mattress” in our bed, which we make sure to switch on before getting between the sheets.
Glasses of water on a bedside table have formed ice by morning.
A car interior heater blows hot air in the washroom.
Without it, a morning shower would be a dream only.
Give that body a rest and have a Guinness
What’s the difference between an Irish wedding and a funeral?
– There’s one drunk less at a funeral.
This old Irish joke reminded me of an incident we witnessed in Youghal.
On a bright November afternoon, we join the crowd wandering through the village.
The local pub owner had passed away, and the whole village was accompanying him on his final journey on earth.
A long convoy followed the coffin to the graveyard to lay the highly honored man to rest.
When the deceased was six feet down, the convoy continued towards the pub.
Irish life, from cradle to grave, seems to take place in pubs.
Our original plan was to wander after food, but we faced the problem of finding a free table in any of the local pubs. Irish funeral was filling every corner.
The whole village was remembering their beloved publican and drowning their grief in Guinness.
We were lucky to catch a small table in a pub and avoided starving to death.
Are they hauling me to six feet under?
Next time in Youghal, I wasn’t so sure about not getting to be a leading star of a funeral convoy.
Raili, once again, gives me a new room to test; there are plenty in her house anyway.
On a doorstep, I already feel doubtful.
The room is huge and genteel.
Yet, somehow it feels unpleasant.
It’s strangely dim, even though it’s an early afternoon.
– Must be facing north or something, I convince myself, and hang my nonexistent hat.
My dream is weird, but crystal clear.
I wake up to someone pulling me out of my bed.
A man in a uniform is trying to get me out of my bed.
He orders me to leave his room immediately.
– Get out! he grabs my ankles.
A man in a uniform, and in my dream, is pulling me out of my bed.
I wake up for my own scream: – Get out! Hell, stop, I’m trying to sleep here!
Returning from the dreamworld, I’m freaked out.
What a nightmare, I think, until I realise I’m half out of bed.
My legs are hanging far out of the foot of the bed.
I could have rolled over to the side, but down, towards the foot end,
nearly impossible.
But there my legs are, down from the knee, hanging outside the bed.
Burning thoughts by the heat of a fireplace
The eternal fire of Aga is warming up the kitchen.
It is the only room warm enough.
In this part of the world, these ovens are familiar to their residents, but these days, there are only a few pros left to keep up the fire.
If the light goes out, it’s nearly impossible to light it up again.
The same thing is happening to my love towards this haunted house.
It’s still lovely, but I feel chilly.
”On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
‘This could be Heaven or this could be Hell’
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year
You can find it here…”
The atmosphere and house cool down
Raili looks at my pale appearance with curiosity; – What is it? Tell me!
– I had a really strange nightmare…
She confesses to having sent me into that room on purpose
– It’s haunted, you know, I just wanted to test if you can see the ghost, I thought you could be a person able to see him.
– Oh, thank you so much.
”Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
So I called up the Captain,
‘Please bring me my wine’
He said, ‘We haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine’
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say…
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
They livin’ it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise
Bring your alibis”
We spend time in the house. We chat by the fireplace.
We enjoy some wine and try to heat the room by throwing logs and old wallpaper into the fire.
What is the secret these walls are keeping?
Even Raili doesn’t know how many rooms there are in her house. She thinks there might be 13 bedrooms.
She’s been renovating her home piece by piece, often ripping off the wallpaper only to discover a hidden doorway and another room behind it.
What has happened here over the years, centuries?
I’m curious to learn more about the history of this building.
But I don’t want to be a guinea pig one more night.
Intriguing, but no thanks, I don’t want any more commanding officers in my bedroom.
Shall the mystery be solved without me!
A gold-buttoned commander from the past
And it will be solved, the history of this haunting house, partly, at least.
This enormous building hasn’t been built in a day. As in Rome, layers have been added over the centuries passed.
This is already a known fact, but it’s less known for what purposes this building has been used for in different centuries.
Time passes by.
Raili sends me a message. Ghostbusters have been visiting.
The results are clear. Her house is haunted. But by whom?
This old building is even worth a TV show, and its history will be carefully studied.
Raili asks me what that man looks like, the man who dragged me out of my bed, well, his bed.
She keeps being stubborn and isn’t willing to tell me what’s going on.
I don’t understand why these details matter, but I tell her what I’ve seen, what I remember about this pissed-off man in a gold-buttoned uniform.
Months pass by.
The next message arrives. According to that, a few centuries ago, the building served as a police station.
The uniforms I’ve previously described have been worn by highly-ranked police officers.
I had slept in one of their offices.
The ghost house in Ireland is hauling me to return, but I’m not sure if I dare to spend another night there.
”Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said ‘We are all just prisoners here, of our own device’
And in the master’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can’t kill the beast
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
‘Relax, ‘ said the night man,
‘We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!’”