All aboard for the real Irish experience

In the second of a weekly series, Rosita Boland seeks the views of an American group before and after a countrywide coach tour

Before

It's the second full day of the 14-day CIÉ Irish Classic coach tour, and the 25 American passengers have just finished a tour of Dublin Castle. We're now on the coach on the way to the Botanical Gardens. Tomorrow, the tour leaves Dublin and heads off on a big circular drive of Ireland. The itinerary includes Downpatrick, Belfast, the Giant's Causeway, Derry, Belleek, Galway, Connemara, Cliffs of Moher, Killarney, Ring of Kerry, Blarney and Waterford. There are several factory visits included, and also a tour of Cong that involves role-playing characters from The Quiet Man movie.

Among the first-time visitors to Ireland are husband and wife Edward and Jeanne Nissen, from Sonora, California; and Linda Scheu from New York city. At the gardens, the Nissens sit over drinks in the cafe and talk about their expectations of Ireland. They chose Ireland as a holiday destination because Jeanne has Irish roots on both sides of her family. "I want to feel a kinship with my relatives. Ireland was always talked about as a magical, leprechaun place," Jeanne says.

What does she mean by "a magical, leprechaun place"? Jeanne looks faintly - but only faintly - embarrassed. "I don't think there are leprechauns in Ireland. But they represent the spirit of imagination, and I'm looking for a magical moment while in Ireland."

Both of the Nissens are particularly interested in the Northern Ireland part of the itinerary. "We've seen pictures of barbed wire on the television. We can't understand why people have to be anti-each other," Edward says.

Linda Scheu is looking forward to The Quiet Man tour. "I like all that kind of thatched cottage thing. I'm looking forward to seeing the cottages: I guess they're all in the coastal areas, right? And I want to learn more about Irish culture. I don't really know what is it. Jigs and singing, right?"

After

It's 10 days later and I'm at the Burlington Hotel in Dublin, waiting for the CIÉ coach to offload its well-travelled passengers. Ireland has just had a gorgeous stretch of hot days, and the amazing weather is what everyone is talking about as they get off the bus and say hello. When we're sitting down inside, and I ask everyone what was the biggest surprise of the trip, everyone answers Northern Ireland.

"I had no idea that the problems were still going on," Jeanne says. "That such strife can still exist when everybody in Republic gets on just fine. It's very kinda in your face up there. I was glad to get across the Border again. I'm glad I went, but I would never go back."

"I saw a Tricolour on top of a bonfire that was going to be burnt. I didn't realise that Northern Ireland was still part of Britain," Linda admits frankly. "I had no idea. Well, New York is very far away from Ireland, why would I know?"

"The murals have their place and if it helps people to relieve their tensions, that's a good thing - but to most Americans, burning a national flag, whatever it is, is a repulsive thing," Edward states. "The people's disagreement - perhaps even hate - with one another in Northern Ireland is very disappointing to me."

When in Derry, the group had a local guide to take them round. They were not impressed. "We were there for a historic tour, and apart from telling us about the walls, all the guide did was tell us her experience of her life in Derry. We didn't learn anything," Edward says, clearly still annoyed. "She got totally carried away talking about herself. She had had a mixed marriage and was saying how hard it was for both of them. We didn't want to know her story: we wanted her to tell us about the places of interest in Derry and about the city's history."

Did they not think that maybe the guide's story was part of the history of Derry? "No, all it told me was that it shows how people up there get completely wrapped up in their own feelings and passions," Edward says flatly.

All of them were struck by the amount of building going on around the country.

"Why are they building houses so close to each other?" Linda wonders. She didn't see many thatched cottages, either on the coast or inland, but she loved The Quiet Man heritage cottage in Cong.

"There are too many houses that look the same," Jeanne remarks. "They have no personality put into them."

"The houses are very small compared to where we come from," says Edward. "That's probably why so many people go to the pub: they want to get out of their small houses."

"Not like us, sitting at home in our houses and watching television. Irish people go to the pub instead and dance and sing," Linda says.

Did they see people singing and dancing in pubs? They did, but mostly it was part of organised entertainment, such as the night they spent at the Abbey Tavern in Howth, which they all loved.

Breakfast and dinner were included in the tour price, but they bought lunch themselves each day. They all comment on the cost of eating out.

"Very high prices," Edward says. "And we were only eating at lunchtime, so presumably it would have been even more expensive eating out in the evening."

"It was €14 for a hamburger at lunchtime!" Jeanne says, scandalised.

They all noticed Traveller encampments along the way. "There were lots of tinkers everywhere," Edward says.

"Lots of homeless tinkers doing shoddy jobs. We have a lot of homeless people in California too," Jeanne adds.

I explain that "tinker" would now be only ever used in a derogatory sense in Ireland; that the accepted term is "Traveller" or "travelling people".

I also explain that many Travellers would not consider themselves homeless: that their caravans are often homes by choice. I ask them where they picked up the word tinker. Their tour guide told them.

"But he meant that they were called tinkers because they tinkered with things. That they are not trained to do anything. That's where he told us the word came from," explains Linda.

"Whatever they're called, I would hope they would want to improve their incomes to better themselves," Edward says, a little acidly.

It's GAA season, and the Americans have noticed. "All those flags everywhere," Jeanne says. "We thought there was a festival."

"I was amazed to hear that 82,000 people go to see an inter-county amateur sporting match," Edward confesses. "That's pretty neat. You wouldn't find that in the States. Maybe in the mid-west, people might turn out for a high-school match, but they would never come out nationally to watch an amateur sporting event in such big numbers."

Although I know nothing about sport, I do feel I have to point out that the only reason the GAA is described as "amateur" sport is because the players don't get paid, not because of the quality of the performances. The Americans digest this in silence.

"I could never imagine our players playing for nothing, but I think it's good they're not paid in Ireland," Linda says firmly. "If it got like baseball or basketball in the States, where it's all about money, where would it all end?"

So what were their highlights of the tour? For Linda, it was the Ring of Kerry. For Edward, the big houses and gardens of Mount Stewart and Muckross. And for Jeanne?

Jeanne, wearing her brand-new Aran cardigan and a brooch with shamrock on it, is suddenly crying. She wants to answer the question, but it's so important to her, she's finding it difficult. Eventually, she gets the words out.

"Kissing the Blarney Stone," she says, swallowing the tears. "It was the last thing my mother asked me to do before she died."

"Jeanne's mother died only six weeks ago," Edward explains.

Jeanne doesn't need to spell it out to me: kissing the Blarney Stone in memory of her mother has been her wished-for Irish "magical moment".

Next Tuesday: people who are here to learn English