S3, E3: A Charming Irish Adventure in Search of One's Heritage

In this week’s episode of Travel Tales by Dinogo, we dive into the story of an incredible traveler you may not have heard of.

Transcript

Aislyn Greene, host: I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Travel Tales by Dinogo. Each episode features a guest sharing a journey that holds deep personal meaning. In this season, we’re sending out writers, comedians, and playwrights on adventures to explore life’s big questions.

In this episode, we join Brendan Francis Newnam on a trip to the U.K. Brendan, a culture journalist, has spent most of his career covering travel in various forms. He’s written travel columns for CNN.com, contributed features to multiple magazines, and currently hosts a travel podcast, Not Lost, for Pushkin Industries. Despite his extensive travel experience, there's one country he's never explored—until now.

Brendan Francis Newnam: My mother's side of the family is Croatian. Her name is Neda Salamun. My uncle’s name is Vladimir. As a child, we adopted my cousin, Marinko. Every summer, we would visit my other cousins, Zoran and Dragan, and their parents: Anka, Boris, Ante, and Secca.

My name? Brendan. Francis. Newnam.

Clearly, there’s been some mix-up along the way.

Well, not exactly. My father is Francis John Newnam, and he comes from an Irish family—mostly Irish, actually. That’s where my first name, Brendan, comes from. So, technically, I’m a blend of two distinct ethnic backgrounds. But I’ve always felt a stronger connection to my Croatian side.

It’s the food: I have a deep love for garlic, fish, olive oil, artichokes, and figs.

There’s the genetics: I’m tall and lean, much like my Croatian relatives, and my stomach is built to handle garlic, fish, olive oil, artichokes, and figs.

Then there’s the vibe: My Irish side—very Catholic! My Croatian side—godless socialists—just like me, comrade!

So, when I grew up and started traveling on my own, it felt only natural that I’d revisit and write about Croatia time and time again. Ireland? Not so much.

But in early 2020, I was invited to a work conference in a small town in County Limerick, and from the moment I arrived, I felt completely at home. The Irish people were warm, the lush greenery brightened my mood, and I was never once called 'Brandon' instead of 'Brendan.' Honestly, the only real question I had was why I hadn’t returned sooner.

I say 'return' because Ireland was the first place I ever traveled internationally. When I was nine, my family flew to Dublin and then drove up to Donegal in the northwest, where my grandmother’s family came from. Looking back, it was there that I truly fell in love with travel. I adored air travel, the indulgent Irish breakfasts, and staying up late. Even though air travel is a nightmare, my cholesterol diagnosis prevents me from even looking at an egg, and I now fall asleep by 10 p.m. drooling on myself, I still have that love for travel.

So, three decades later, I made the decision to return to Donegal and see what I’d been missing all these years.

Part One: Town

I arrived in Dublin, breezed through the airport, and headed straight to the rental desk. The attendant told me he had a compact car for me. 'A compact?' I said, feigning shock. 'You do realize I’m arriving in Ireland as a single man, right? And you’re making sure I’ll stay that way?' He laughed and immediately understood my tone. 'Alright, let me see what I can do for you.'

(Note: Don’t worry, that’s the only time I’ll be attempting a brogue in this entire podcast.)

I was feeling pretty good as I slid into the driver’s seat of my upgraded ride, a shiny new four-door Audi sedan. Definitely not a compact. If I’d tried that in the States, I’d have gotten a blank stare. In Croatia? Well, I wouldn’t have even attempted it. But here in Ireland, it seemed like the people understood charm—and were willing to reward it. Maybe these are my people, I thought.

Ann Shannon: Ever wonder why the roads are so narrow?

Brendan: Ann Shannon is a guide at Donegal Castle. I had arrived at our meeting feeling a bit disheveled. The tires on the left side of my car were scraped from several close encounters with hedges and curbs as I made my way from Dublin to Donegal.

Ann: It all goes back to an old tradition. The Irish word for road is 'bóthar,' which comes from the word for cow, 'bó.' According to the ancient Brehon Laws, roads were supposed to be wide enough for two cows to walk side by side. And some of these roads are still just wide enough for two cows to fit.

Brendan: And my car is the width of four cows.

Ann: [laughs] Well, there you have it. That’s why you need a bicycle.

Brendan: Now I get why the guy at the car rental counter was so eager to give me a compact instead of the big sedan I requested—the roads here are too narrow for anything larger. He wasn’t falling for my charm; he was just getting back at me for my cheeky attitude.

Grateful to be free from driving a giant car down narrow cow paths on the wrong—I mean 'opposite'—side of the road, I wandered with Ann through the grounds of Donegal Castle, which stands right in the heart of Donegal town.

Truth be told, it’s a fairly humble castle. Just a three-story building with one wing that’s mostly roofless. But I wasn’t there for the architecture, anyway.

Ann: We’re at Donegal Castle, built by the O'Donnell clan in the 1470s. The O'Donnells rose to power around 1200 and constructed several castles around Donegal. Some were for defense, but this one was built primarily for that purpose, as you can see from the walls, which are about three yards thick when you step inside.

Brendan: Wait a second—can I stop you there? My grandmother’s maiden name was O'Donnell—Francis O'Donnell. When I was a kid, we visited here, and I remember thinking, 'This is where my ancestors lived!' But, that’s probably not true, is it?

Ann: Well, let’s put it this way—everywhere you turn in Donegal, there’s an O'Donnell. It’s a big, well-known name around here.

Brendan: Ann wasn’t exaggerating. During my time in Donegal, I came across O'Donnell pubs, O'Donnell solicitors, O'Donnell construction companies, and perhaps my favorite—O'Donnell Mature Cheese and Red Onion crisps. Yes, potato chips with a combination of onions and sharp cheddar! Now, I’m not sure what the Gaelic equivalent of 'umami' is (maybe 'O’mami'?), but these chips definitely hit that spot. Every bite made me feel like, 'Maybe these are truly my people!'

Looking back, it made sense why we came here when I was nine. Even though Donegal wasn’t exactly on the tourist map back in the ’80s. In fact, it was considered a bit risky because of its proximity to Northern Ireland. Donegal is part of Ulster, a region historically colonized by the British during the 'Plantation of Ulster.' The 'plantation' refers to the early 1600s when the UK began settling people there—mostly Scots and northern English.

Ann: And at that time, the settlers were largely from the newly reformed Protestant faith. The 'plantation' of Ulster is at the root of many of the issues that have plagued this island ever since.

Brendan: Essentially, they tried to bring in British Protestant settlers and...

Ann: . . . They wanted to turn it into a mini England! That’s what they were attempting, but it didn’t work. Colonization was a failure here.

Brendan: Now, if this seems like a heavy topic to tackle in a travel podcast, I included it because it came up, unbidden, within the first 10 minutes of my conversation with Ann. I quickly realized that the past is never far from the surface here.

In fact, the topic resurfaced later that same day when I met Niamh Coughlin, a local historian.

Niamh Coughlin: We’re sitting in what’s called 'The Diamond,' the town's central area. The term 'Diamond' is unique to Ulster, the northern part of Ireland, and dates back to the times of the plantation when the English colonized the region. This area was purposefully designed as a 'planned town,' with a marketplace at its center and streets branching out from it. It's been a trading hub since the 1600s.

Brendan: Niamh and I sit in the Diamond, watching as tourists dart between shops and local girls linger on a nearby bench, giggling. This is the heart of Donegal town.

So, Donegal is both a region and a town—how are they connected?

Niamh: It's not the administrative center of the county, nor the largest town, but in terms of tourism, it's definitely the most popular. It's picturesque, and having a castle right in the middle of town doesn't hurt either—it’s a big attraction.

Brendan: Tourists always flock to a good castle.

Niamh: Who doesn't love a castle? They're universally adored.

Brendan: I visited here once when I was nine. My dad brought all four of his sisters along, so it was my aunts, my parents, my sister, and me. By the time we arrived in Donegal, they were calling it the 'ADC Tour'—'Another Damn Castle.'

Niamh: That sounds great.

Brendan: So they were like, 'Take us to the pub, and we’ll catch up with you there.'

Niamh: Perfect. I like that idea.

Brendan: Niamh and I decided to take a stroll through the village.

How many pubs does this town have?

Niamh: Too many to count.

Brendan: Yeah, I’ve already spotted at least half a dozen just in this area.

Niamh: Definitely. We’re well-equipped when it comes to places to grab a drink.

Brendan: We stroll by the Old World department store in the heart of town.

Niamh: It houses McGee’s, which is a local favorite and draws visitors from surrounding areas.

Brendan: McGee’s is the... what exactly?

Niamh: It’s the local store that dates back to the 1880s. It started out trading Donegal cloth, which is sometimes called Donegal tweed, and later became a manufacturer of it. Today, it’s a charming department store that attracts visitors from all over the country.

Brendan: We stroll past a statue of my supposed ‘ancestor,’ Red O’Donnell.

Niamh: This is Red Hugh the First. There’s definitely a bit of creative flair in the way he’s been depicted here, but I think he has a certain charm—je ne sais quoi. I come by every day to say hello to him.

Brendan: Really?!

Niamh: Yes, I do. And he never disagrees with me. He doesn’t talk back. He’s the perfect gentleman. I’m quite fond of him. [laughs]

Brendan: And we’ve arrived at what appears to be another ADC, though it’s something a little different.

Niamh: We’re now nearing Donegal Abbey, which was founded in 1474 by the O’Donnells.

Brendan: Of course, who else?

Niamh: They founded it as a Franciscan abbey. When you’re as wealthy and influential as an O’Donnell king, establishing a religious order is a great way to flaunt your power and privilege.

Brendan: So what you’re telling me is that this place is mine?

Niamh: Yep. [Laughs] It’s all yours.

Brendan: Perfect. Looks like it needs very little work. So, here we are, perched on the edge of the bay, gazing out at wooded islands.

Niamh: It’s also the site of a 15th-century abbey. Back in the 1500s, this was a key center for religious education and learning. It was a Franciscan friary, and the Franciscans follow the teachings of Saint Francis of Assisi.

Brendan: Funny enough, my middle name is Francis. My grandmother was named Frances, and my father’s also named Francis. I think I’m beginning to see where this connection comes from.

Niamh: And part of their philosophy was a simple life, focusing on poverty and contemplation.

Brendan: A simple life of poverty and contemplation. Hmm, that rings a bell.

Niamh: Honestly, if I were to spend my days in quiet reflection, I can’t think of a more perfect place. Isn’t it just breathtaking? Take a look at that.

Brendan: The view is magnificent. The water almost looks like liquid silver, and the clouds are so dramatic.

Niamh: Absolutely. It’s beautiful. As you said, you’re gazing across at those lush, wooded islands. It’s truly stunning.

Part Two: The Sea

Paddy Byrne: We had a fantastic dolphin sighting on our last tour, folks. Quite a few of them, actually.

Tourist: Do you think we’ll be lucky enough to see them today?

Paddy: I’m feeling really positive about it. Very optimistic! We saw dolphins all day last time, so fingers crossed you’ll get the same chance.

Brendan: The next morning, I rise early and board a boat bound for Shliabh Liag, a name that looks nothing like it sounds. Shliabh Liag is Gaelic for ‘mountain of stone pillars,’ and it refers not only to the name of the mountain but also its striking cliffs. Visitors can hike up for a view from the top, or they can stay on the water and take in the dramatic scenery from below.

Paddy Byrne is the skipper who runs the tours around these waters. Imagine an Irish version of Yosemite Sam—except swap the cowboy hat for a doo rag, and the Southern drawl for a thick Irish brogue.

How long have you been running these tours?

Paddy: I've been doing these tours since 1995, using a variety of boats. I started out on a 21-foot salmon pot, a fishing boat. We’d fish for salmon, and when the season was over, the boat’s owner didn’t know what to do with it, so he left it docked. I asked if I could take it out for a spin, and he said, 'No problem.' A couple of guys on the pier asked me to take them fishing, so I did.

When I got back, someone else wanted to see the cliffs, so I took them out there. For the rest of the summer, I just kept taking people out on the boat. I thought to myself, 'This could be a lot of fun.'

We head out into the deep, dark Atlantic. Shliabh Liag’s towering 2,000-foot cliffs rise above us. The familiar green scenery of Ireland quickly gives way to a darker, more dramatic seascape—blue water and jagged rocks poking out of the sea like sculptures. The coastline is sharp and fractured, like shattered pottery. Paddy shuts off the engine and points to the cliffs, ready to share another story.

Paddy: In the old days, the women would climb down those cliffs right there. They’d gather any wreckage that washed ashore and then haul it all the way back up the cliffs with them.

Brendan: Just to clarify, what Paddy’s saying is that the local women would drag usable shipwreck debris they found on the beach all the way up the steep cliffs.

Paddy: People are often shocked when they hear this. 'Where were the men?' they ask. The men were busy with 'important' things—reading newspapers, drinking beer, mostly Guinness. But they weren’t home. They were off working in England or Scotland, taking on laborer jobs for pennies. They might have been digging railway tracks, canals, tunnels—whatever work was available.

So, the men would be away in England until around April or May, then come back home, see a new baby, and probably create another one. They’d help get the farm up and running for another year. That was their cycle. People would ask, 'How long has Jimmy been gone?' and the answer would be, 'Oh, Jimmy’s been gone 15 years.' 'How do you know?' 'Well, he’s got 15 kids.' Every time he came back, he’d meet a new one. It was a wild life.

Brendan: I realized that the past is always close at hand in Ireland. I could picture these women hauling shipwrecked goods up the cliffs while raising a whole bunch of kids on their own. It reminded me of the strong women I grew up with—my grandmother Frannie, and my aunts Margaret, Catherine, Nan, and Jeanie. Independent, determined, no matter whether they had a man around or not. They just got things done.

Paddy steered the boat around a bend, guiding us between two massive rocks rising from the ocean. He slowed down the engine and looked up at the cliffs with a satisfied grin.

Paddy: The highest point here is about 1,972 feet, or just under 600 meters. Over on the west coast, there’s a famous spot called the Cliffs of Moher. We like to call ours the Cliffs of Less, because ours stand nearly three times higher—so we’ve got a bit more respect for them.

Brendan: The Cliffs of Moher are nice and neat, like they were measured out with a square and a level. These ones, though, they look like something I would’ve built—lots of crumbling parts. But no, they’re truly stunning. Really beautiful.

Part Three: The Countryside

Brendan: The Wild Atlantic Way is a 1,500-mile tourist route that traces Ireland’s rugged west coast. It was created in 2014 to draw in travelers, and it’s certainly worked. As you drive along and take in the harsh, crashing waves and the endless rolling hills, it’s easy to see how tough life must have been here before the days of modern tech and global trade.

I decided to make a detour and head to Glenties, the town where my most recent ancestors came from. It was early, and the streets were still quiet. I found the local historical society, but it was closed for the day. To better understand the life my grandmother's family had left behind, I’d need to look elsewhere.

Glencolm Audio Tour: This here, I believe, is truly God’s masterpiece. Of course, I’m a Donegal man, so I’m biased, but you won’t find a beauty like this anywhere else—not in any other country. It’s a beauty, divine in its own right.

Brendan: The Glencolmchille Folk Village rests at the bend of Glen Bay beach, a collection of thatched cottages perched on a hill. Founded in 1967 by the man you just heard, Father McDyer, the village is a recreation of the impoverished rural community he encountered when the church assigned him to this area in 1951.

Audio Tour: When Father James first arrived in this parish, there was no electricity in the homes, no running water, no parish hall, and no local industry. He set about securing recognition and funding from the authorities he sought help from—essentially, the bureaucratic system.

Brendan: After modernizing the local village, Father McDyer pulled off a remarkable act of karmic jiu-jitsu: He built a replica of the very pre-modern village he had initially found, and he did so to provide employment for the community that had welcomed him.

I took a tour of the place with the woman in charge, Margaret Cunningham. It’s an amusing little spot. As soon as you step into the first cottage, you’re greeted by a life-size figure of Father McDyer.

Brendan: I have to admit, I was already a bit unnerved by the sight of that figure in there.

Margaret Cunningham: Yes, that’s a replica of Father James McDyer, the founder of the museum. I’m sure you’ve picked up a few details about him as you’ve walked through.

Brendan: It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it? Have you ever been spooked by that mannequin?

Margaret: Oh yes, every single person is startled by it. The funniest moment I ever witnessed was when the smallest man in the parish was seen carrying the statue across the grounds. He was giving the statue a fresh coat of boot polish in its hair—it was hilarious! Someone was driving by and saw this tiny man, barely four feet tall, carrying this enormous figure. It was the funniest thing—he even looked a bit like Ronald Reagan.

Brendan: Every cottage in the village is packed with items that reveal Ireland's past. There's a recreated town shop with old Guinness bottles, a fisherman's home, and even a famine pot—the cauldron used to collect food scraps and turn them into soup during difficult times. It all felt like stepping onto a movie set, and apparently, that wasn’t by chance.

Margaret: When we were kids, we used to joke about how Liam Neeson might one day play Father McDyer in a film. And would you believe it? Just last March, who shows up to film in that very cottage? None other than Liam Neeson himself! Would you like to take a look at it?

Brendan: Wait, what was he doing here? What movie was it?

Margaret: It was an action film called In the Land of the Saints and the Sinners.

Brendan: So, he was using this village as part of the movie set?

Margaret: Yes, this was the movie set. It's called Farnborough Cottage. If you walk around, you’ll notice that this film was set in the '70s, so we found all kinds of props and artifacts from that time. The house originally reflected the '60s when the museum first opened in '67, but once the movie came along, we updated everything to capture the '70s vibe. It's funny how a Hollywood film made us transform the place back into a real home feel.

Brendan: And let's not forget, Liam Neeson is quite the looker.

Margaret: He certainly is! I had the pleasure of meeting him, and as I was leaving, he asked, 'Do you want a photo?' Well, of course I did!

Brendan: Margaret may not be an actress, but she’s straight out of central casting: friendly, confident, and always up for a laugh. I felt an immediate connection with her.

Brendan: So, what are the top three things I should remember or take away from my time here in Donegal?

Margaret: For us, it’s the stunning location, the incredible scenery, the rich culture, and the craftsmanship that continues to thrive. I hope you get to experience the music too. It’s all about the people, the tunes, and the traditions.

Brendan: What’s it like here in Donegal? How do the people here differ from those in other parts of Ireland?

Margaret: From what I’ve heard, our isolation has helped us keep much of our way of life intact. Our humor and culture stayed strong because we weren’t exposed to as many outside influences. And people often say they like our accents. What do you think?

Brendan: Your accent is pretty charming, I’ll give you that.

Margaret: Well, yours isn’t bad either! [laughs] It’s been wonderful talking with you, Brendan. For a long time, we were forgotten, but that’s no longer the case!

Brendan: On my final evening in Donegal, I found myself in Ardara, a charming town about 40 minutes north of Glencolmclille, nestled by another scenic inlet. For dinner, I went with the classic: fish, chips, and a glass of wine. Some things never change. Afterward, I took a walk down the main street and popped my head into a local pub.

The pub had a cozy little room with a bar that led into a longer space filled with live music. It wasn’t a formal band but rather a group of locals who brought their instruments and took turns playing. A silver-haired man with a flute, a woman with spectacles playing fiddle—pints in hand, the crowd was all smiles and tapping feet.

I grabbed a seat at the bar, next to three young men in their twenties chatting animatedly. As I sipped my drink and soaked in the music, something strange happened. I started to feel like I was staring at a younger version of myself. It was like I’d stepped into a scene from A Christmas Carol, but instead of a ghost, I had my own reflection. If it weren’t for my hipster tote bag with a microphone sticking out, I could’ve easily passed for one of their older brothers.

Maybe it wasn’t that I couldn’t connect with my Irish roots, but rather that I felt almost too at home. The faces, the laughter, the open warmth of everyone—it reminded me so much of my father’s side of the family and the friends I grew up with.

On the flip side, my Croatian family felt a little more exotic to me, something foreign and intriguing to explore.

When I travel, I’m often searching for a change in scenery, a fresh experience to dive into. Croatia certainly fit that description. Ireland, however, I thought would fall short. But after spending a few days immersed in Donegal’s history and its stunning landscapes, I realized there was a depth to it I hadn’t expected.

And then something curious happened.

A young boy passed by in a Ronaldo soccer jersey, and it instantly reminded me of the kids I’d seen in Croatia, running through cafés as their parents sipped beers and listened to live performances of klapa and other traditional folk music.

I recalled sitting there, too, in that same kind of scene, and feeling strangely at ease.

For a brief moment, I stopped feeling like a foreigner to myself. In that instant, I felt a sense of completeness.

Aislyn: That was Brendan Francis Newnam. Brendan says he plans to return to Ireland someday. Now that he’s completed his “homework” — meaning, familiarizing himself with the history and his family’s roots — he’s looking forward to returning and experiencing Ireland as a regular traveler, or rather, a ‘civilian.’

Before he heads back, Brendan has a little keepsake to remember his trip. He told me that, prior to visiting Ireland, he was never a fan of hats. But during his time there, he noticed that the locals, especially men, wear wool caps and pull it off with style! So, while in Donegal, Brendan had a hat made from Donegal tweed. Now that he's back in New York City, he’s been wearing it every time he steps out.

At first, he admitted, he was hesitant to wear it. But as he said, “I put it on nervously at first, but now it’s become part of my regular outfit!” You can check out Brendan’s new hat on social media at @BFNewnam. And if you want to hear more of his travel tales, be sure to subscribe to Not Lost wherever you listen to podcasts.

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If you liked today’s adventure, we hope you’ll join us again in two weeks for more exciting stories. Subscribing makes it easy! You can find us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform. Please be sure to rate and review us, as it helps other travelers discover the show.

You've been listening to Travel Tales, a production by Dinogo Media and Boom Integrated. Our podcast is brought to you by Aislyn Greene, Adrien Glover, and Robin Lai. Post-production work was handled by Jenn Grossman and Clint Rhoades from John Marshall Media. Music composition by Alan Carrescia. A special thanks to Irene Wang and Angela Johnston for their contributions.

I’m Aislyn Greene, your host, always chasing my next adventure. It’s a joy to be back on the road again! As we journey through the world this year, always remember: the real journey begins the moment we step out the door.

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