The last ferry to Inis Mór (pronounced “Inishmore") arrives at 6:00 in the evening. There are two hostels on Inis Mór. When I arrived the first hostel was full, so I walked half an hour to the secluded Mainistir House Hostel. This is where I had my first encounter with the Kitchen Wizard.
The first thing you will notice about the Mainistir House is the feeling of peace and emptiness—this ambience is caused by the chilly temperature inside and the constant presence of tragic french opera music. This music is turned off at night, but turned back on promptly at nine o’clock in the morning whether or not anyone is asleep.
When I arrived, the kitchen wizard didn’t appear at first—he was sulking in the back of the building. This is where he spent the majority of his time. In fact, the kitchen wizard would only enter the public area of the house with reluctance whenever it was absolutely necessary. His customer service was rushed and had an undertone of pejorative impatience—he would answer questions curtly and escaped to be alone.
The kitchen wizard had thick horn-rimmed glasses and wore a shocking peach coloured sweater with little tufts of peachy hairs poking out. Not the typical garb of a wizard. At the check in counter I realized that I did not have any euros to pay for my bed, only pounds.
“Do you know where I can find a cash machine around here?”
The kitchen wizard laughed melodramatically—he sounded like he was just saying “haw haw haw”
“There is only one cash machine on Inis Mór, and it’s closed.”
I ended up paying for the hostel in pounds. The kitchen wizard quickly informed me about the breakfast service and I asked about the wifi password.
“It’s dauphin”
“How do I spell that?”
“It’s like the french king…”
He gave me a look which put me in my place as the uncultured swine that I was. Any educated man should know the Dauphin of Viennois—heir apparent to the throne of France from 1350 to 1791. I was dealing with a man of refinement.
The reception hall of the Mainistir House is a pleasant size with white painted walls and a wood-panelled ceiling. The walls are covered in old news clippings. One article reads:
“Top 6 Things To Do On Inis Mór”
At the top of this list is the American Bar:
“Not far from the harbour, this pub has been a favourite for visitors and locals for generations. It also has a late bar with music most nights.”
Later that day, while walking around the island, I passed the American Bar—the door and windows were boarded up with wood and “LUCKY STAR BAR” now spelled “LUC STA AR”.
A little bit further down on the Top 6 list is the Mainistir House:
“Joël d’Anjour never claimed the friendliest service on Inis Mór but his vegetarian meals have been legendary there for more than a decade. Clearly a blow-in, he once received a letter from a previous resident, addressed to The Black Man, Top of the Hill, Aran Islands, Ireland.”
Above the list there was a portrait with the caption “Joel d’Anjour, kitchen wizard of Mainistir House”
The breakfast was delicious. There was a large plate heaped with freshly baked scones, still warm, with butter and jam. There were only three of us at breakfast, the kitchen wizard did not join. He came out a bit later, gently humming to the opera music. He brought out an ironing board to the window and began ironing some sheets. I told him that I really enjoyed the breakfast and he replied with a furtive “thanks, bye!” He started humming louder and more nervously to the opera music. He didn’t want to talk, just to be left in peace.
After a little bit more persistence we found out a little more. He had been living in and maintaining Mainistir House for 30 years. He used to live in Paris but now he never leaves the island except to visit the used bookstore and cinema on the mainland.
I left Mainistir house feeling lucky to have witnessed the presence of a misunderstood artistic hermit.
