Settling into Ballina
After the champagne-and-spa glow of my birthday weekend, it was time to unpack my bags for a while. Ballina, in County Mayo, would be my home for the next two months — long enough to stop feeling like a tourist and start feeling like I was home!
My base was a perfectly proportioned little townhouse with a darling blue door (I love a colored door!). But what really made it special was my host, Áine. She hit “friend status” before I even met her. Aside from her great communication before I left the States, she was the epitome of Irish hospitality when she “rescued” me before I’d even arrived (and that wouldn’t be the last time).
The last leg of my train journey went sideways when service was disrupted and we were herded onto a bus, completely changing my arrival time. Instead of leaving me to puzzle it out, Áine showed up at the train station herself to collect me. That one gesture told me everything I needed to know about her. Like I said, instant friend status. I would discover later that I could walk to and from the train station with luggage, but at that point, I had zero bearings, and she was a lifesaver.
The townhouse itself was a total charmer — two stories, everything fresh, new, and recently renovated. And the bed? Hands down the most comfortable one I’d ever slept on, complete with Foxford linens. Grocery stores and the town center were mere blocks away — the perfect location. When you’ve never visited a place, it’s hard to know if you’ve booked in the right neighborhood. I hit it out of the park with this one.
It also turned out to be a great little office. I’d set up at the kitchen table to work on itineraries or take calls in the evening (morning back in the States). I was running For the Good Times Travel from my own Irish hideaway — proof you can run a travel business from anywhere, even with a slice of homemade soda bread and a cup of tea beside you.
Getting the Lay of the Land
A couple of days after I arrived, Áine whisked me off on a driving tour — the kind of introduction only a local who loves their hometown (and surrounds) can give.
At Downpatrick Head it was pouring rain, so we couldn’t walk out onto the cliffs. A bit of a bummer, but even from a distance it was astounding — the Atlantic heaving below, oh the Irish drama of it all 🤩. From there we stopped at the Céide Fields, wandered through the museum, and read the fascinating story of their discovery and life there thousands of years ago.
After a cup of tea (natch), Áine was back behind the wheel (which I never quite got used to being on the right-hand side). We continued on until we came to a turnoff where we stopped to stroll a narrow cow path I never would have found on my own. As we walked, she spun stories of bonfire nights and daring teenage climbs on crumbling monastery walls. At the end of the track lay St. Mary’s Well — a quiet shrine where numbered stones mark the Stations of the Cross, said to have sheltered hidden Catholic devotion during Penal times. A chapel built above it even cradles a tree that somehow grows out of the roof with no roots, as if the place itself insists on miracles. On the walk back to the car, I couldn’t help but think it was a miracle of another kind that Áine and her friends didn’t break their necks during those youthful wild Irish pixie days.
I also had the chance to pop by her farm (which looked straight out of Escape to the Country to me) and meet her horses, including Molly, a tall stunner (she’s in the picture below).
Life in the Village
I easily fell into a rhythm in Ballina. Errands became gentle rituals: popping into the pharmacy without checking a map, swinging by the grocery store and coming home with more than I meant to buy, waving to neighbors who didn’t know me but waved anyway. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to walk everywhere. No highways to cross, no raucous intersections — just the best.
I loved slipping into daily routines. I went to get my nails done and found myself chatting away (“talking the craic”) with the nail tech while listening to the lilting Irish accents all around me. The slang, the rhythm, the humor — it was like music.
Thanks to Áine, I also found a local hairdresser who kept my blonde streak blonde! The women in the salon were funny and warm, full of stories and opinions, and it struck me how familiar it all felt. The rhythm of a salon is universal, but the details — the accents, the expressions, the way everyone seemed to know each other’s business — gave it a distinctly Irish flair.
That was the beauty of Ballina. On the surface, so much of life looked familiar. But just beneath were those small differences, those charms that reminded me every day: I wasn’t just visiting this sweet little town — for a while, I was living it.
An Unexpected Adventure
Though it was hardly the kind of cultural immersion I had in mind, I even got to test out the local emergency services. After a fall, I faced the classic solo traveler’s question: who do you call when you’re in a country by yourself?
Luckily, the answer was easy. You call the friend you made when you rented her townhouse. Áine came right over, calm as ever, and stayed with me while we called for help. You’d think, with all the Irish and British TV shows I watch, that I would have known to just dial 999. But when you’ve rung your bell like I did, the most obvious things don’t always occur to you right away.
Soon I was riding in the back of an ambulance with Patrick — kind, cute, and wonderfully chatty. He was genuinely interested in my big career change into travel planning, and thought it was really cool. Honestly, I do too. His enthusiasm made me feel proud of the path I’ve chosen, and his easy humor made the hour-long ride to Castlebar pass quickly.
A night in A&E followed, and while I wouldn’t recommend it as a sightseeing stop, I can vouch that the care was excellent. It was a little scary in the moment, but I was fine — and best of all, I had my townhouse to come back to. By then it felt like a cocoon of safety: cozy evenings, quiet days, and the steady reassurance that I was in good hands in this little town. And let me just say, I was grateful to have my travel insurance in place. Never travel without it.
And because no Irish story ends without one more twist: when I was cleared to go, I needed a taxi back to Ballina. My driver turned out to be another great guide, pointing out sights and stories along the way. The Irish love talking about where they’re from — and with good reason. There’s magic tucked everywhere. Bonus for me: he was also a professional driver. Contact made, another name added to my growing list.
And yes, of course I took a hospital selfie — but with my hair full of blood, I’ll spare you that one!
Next Chapter: On the Road
Except for the week I was benched after my unexpected trip to A&E, I did plenty of wandering. Most of it kept me right in County Mayo — because honestly, when the scenery is this good, why go far? From seaside villages to grand old manors, each outing gave me another layer of Ireland to love. Next up, I’ll take you along on those day trips and overnights, where the story shifts from “settling in” to “setting out.”
September 29th, 2025 at 8:57 pm
Sounds like a story out of a book – complete with head trauma! Dying to visit Ireland now!