converge

The US Senate will vote Tuesday on Russian sanctions, days after Ukraine attacked an Iranian vessel in the Caspian Sea.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy is expected to meet United States President Donald Trump in the White House on Tuesday, a meeting that could coincide with the introduction of tough new sanctions on Russia.

Zelenskyy, who will attend the funeral of US Senator Lindsey Graham, ⁠is also scheduled to meet ‌with the Senate on ⁠Tuesday ⁠evening, the Reuters news agency reported, citing two Senate aides.

The vote on Russia sanctions, legislation that has been pending for months and was championed by Graham, could happen that same day.

If enacted, the Russian sanctions bill would ratchet up pressure on Moscow by imposing 100 percent tariffs on goods from the five largest importers of Russian oil and gas, including China and India.

In a last-minute intervention, Trump sought to add sanctions on Iran to the same bill.  Zelenskyy told Trump ally Laura Loomer last week that he thinks the move is a “great idea”.

Iran and Ukraine wars converge

The two wars, taking place roughly 2,500km (1,550 miles) apart, have converged in recent days.

On Saturday, Ukraine attacked an Iranian tanker in the Caspian Sea that Ukraine’s ambassador to Israel, Yevgen Korniychuk, said was carrying drones and military components from Iran to Russia. Iran has promised to retaliate.

By attacking Iranian ships, Kyiv is not only doing itself a favour but also attacking Washington’s “enemy number one”, which will please the US, former US ambassador to Kazakhstan and Georgia, William Courtney, told Al Jazeera.

But while Zelenskyy supports Iranian sanctions as part of the Russian sanctions bill, Ukraine is unlikely to want to be too closely associated with the “unpopular” US war on Iran, he added.

The US no longer provides direct financial aid to Ukraine for its war against the Russian invasion, but it still provides crucial intelligence for long-range strikes and sells weapons to Europe that are then passed on to Ukraine.

Trump-Zelenskyy relationship

While their relationship seemed tense during a heated exchange in the White House in February 2025, relations between Zelenskyy and Trump have improved significantly in recent months.

The two leaders agreed earlier this month to allow Ukraine to jointly produce Patriot air defence interceptors, a crucial component for the country’s defence against Russian aerial attacks.

Ukraine and the US are also moving closer to a deal on joint drone production, a move that could help the US catch up with Ukraine in this crucial military technology.

Ukraine is on track to produce 6 to 7 million short-range attack drones this year, while the Pentagon’s $1.1bn production programme will have ordered just under 200,000 drones cumulatively by February 2027.

Fighting continues

Heavy fighting continues on Ukraine’s front lines, and long-range strikes are taking place almost every day.

On Monday, Russian strikes on eastern Ukraine killed seven people and ⁠injured more than 20, officials said.

In Russia’s Belgorod region, a Ukrainian drone struck ‌a ‌commercial building, killing one person and injuring two.

Fighting is heaviest in Ukraine’s Konstantinyvka and Pokrovsk directions, both of which are in the Donetsk region.

‘If you take all these springs together in terms of flow, it’s by far the largest in Ireland, and one of the biggest systems in the world,” said Dr Benjamin Thébaudeau, geologist for the newly designated Unesco Joyce Country and Western Lakes Geopark in western Ireland.

Over a few days, I discovered that this massive system of limestone springs and caves is the engine that drives this landscape, in the same way as an underground train network powers a city. It’s a place where rivers disappear into limestone fissures and subterranean lakes, and where roads twist through drowned valleys beneath mountains shaped by fire and ice.

It’s also the dreamy, lush landscape of western Ireland that famously drew Hollywood to the village of Cong for The Quiet Man in 1952. Travelling through the geopark from the heart of County Galway into southern County Mayo, I based myself in Cong, which is effectively an inland island between Lough Mask and Lough Corrib. The village takes its name from the Irish for “narrows”, a reference to its tight, water-bound geography and the concentration of springs that rise and fall invisibly beneath the surface.

Water is everywhere and rarely still. It drains from Lough Mask through swallow holes before travelling unseen for miles through limestone fissures beneath Cong, eventually forcing its way back to the surface as cold springs around the village.

“If you look in the centre, you can see the current flowing in opposite directions,” Benjamin says, pointing beyond the interpretive boards towards the channels where he first noticed the phenomenon. “We call it the Hatchery because of its connection to wild fish, and the springs bubble up there, right in the middle.”

Yet I quickly realised that it is not only the geopark’s karst terrain and glacial valleys that give it such distinct character. At its core sits a living Gaeltacht where Irish is still spoken in daily life, embedded in place names, local conversation and nightly sessions at the third-generation Burke’s Bar (Tí Bhúrca) in nearby Clonbur. The language runs through the landscape as another ingrained system alongside rock, water and soil.

The Augustinian abbey at Cong was founded under Gaelic royal patronage, yet its surviving stone arches reflect the deep architectural imprint left by later Norman reconstruction. In the 12th century, Ruaidrí Ua Conchobair (anglicised to Rory O’Connor), the last high king of Ireland, spent his final 15 years within these walls following political collapse in Connacht, seeking a quiet sanctuary where the river meets the woods. Centuries later, the tides of power shifted brutally under Tudor administration. The abbey was suppressed, and Sir Richard Bingham, the notorious lord president of Connacht, turned Ashford Castle into a menacing administrative hub, temporarily pulling the region’s political gravity to Cong before authority drifted westward once more. The castle was bought in 1852 by the Guinness family with proceeds from the global flow of the black stuff. They transformed the medieval ruins into a grand Victorian hunting lodge, the luxury retreat we see today.

Like the landscape of the geopark itself, these stone landmarks remain, but they constantly change their form, mirroring the fluid cultural afterlife of Cong village. At The Quiet Man Museum, curator Lisa Collins spoke of the enduring pull of John Ford’s film. Honeymooning visitors still arrive dressed as Sean Thornton (played by John Wayne) and Mary Kate Danaher (Maureen O’Hara), she said, stepping into a version of Ireland that has long outlived the production and indeed the country itself. The museum has been designated a Treasure of European Film Culture by the European Film Academy, with plans to mark the 75th anniversary of the film in Cong next year.

Among the exhibits is the fishing rod used by the village priest during filming on the River Cong. Held for decades by the family of sound man Thomas A Carman before its donation to the museum, the prop brings one of the movie’s most famous comedic exchanges into the room. In that celebrated scene, Mary Kate speaks in the Irish language to Father Peter Lonergan as he casts for a legendary, elusive salmon. Standing by the water, she desperately explains that she has refused to consummate the marriage while her husband sleeps in a “mála codlata”, which translates as sleeping bag.

The language allows the exchange to move into a different register, beneath the radar of 1952 censorship, yet fully understood within the Gaeltacht where the film was shot. It functions as a form of cover, allowing meaning to sit just beneath the surface.

That subterranean world becomes tangible at the Pigeon Hole cave system just outside the village. The entrance drops steeply into the limestone through shiny, time-worn steps, leading into a narrow chasm. Below, a shallow underground river moves through darkness, untouched by sunlight.

It is here that the legend of the White Trout of Cong gathers around the water. The story tells of a young woman who vanished following the murder of her lover, only for a pure white trout to appear in the cave soon afterwards. It’s reminiscent of Father Lonergan’s mythical fish in The Quiet Man, and like everything here in Joyce Country and the Western Lakes, it’s part myth and part truth.

Benjamin notes that elements of the legend may not be entirely detached from observation. Fish living for generations in complete darkness can lose pigmentation over time, becoming pale or entirely white as a result of their environment. In that sense, the story does not sit apart from geology. Another truth is that fishing remains central here, both as practice and inheritance.

Near Ashford Castle, a salmon hatchery attempts to support declining wild populations. The cold water that springs from the lakes should sustain fish stocks, but there are increasing environmental pressures.

“Maybe we are fighting a losing battle,” Benjamin said.

Climate change, warming seas and mounting pressure on river systems are all affecting wild Atlantic salmon. Trout remain more resilient, spending their lives within local waters such as Loughs Mask and Corrib rather than migrating out to sea.

Yet as the modern environment shifts, the landscape continues to hold older histories at different depths. Further inland at Carnacon, the ruins of the grand Moore Hall estate rise above Lough Carra from within encroaching woodland. One of the few Catholic-owned landed estates of its period, the house became associated with the great famine-era MP George Henry Moore and his colourful descendants, including the writer George Augustus Moore. Today, it sits partially collapsed since its destruction during the civil war, though the surrounding woods have absorbed rather than erased it. Paths thread through what was once a carefully controlled demesne, slipping into places where the estate’s geometry still survives beneath moss and root.

Not far away in Ballinrobe, another form of historical memory settles into language itself. It was here that Captain Charles Boycott, land agent for Lord Erne, became the focus of organised worker resistance during the land war in 1879. His name entered the global vocabulary as a verb, detached from its local origins yet still rooted in this terrain of contested land and memory. Moore Hall and Ballinrobe sit only a short distance apart, but together they reveal different expressions of the same pressures: ownership, resistance, inheritance, and the slow reshaping of meaning through time.

Further west, in Connemara, the landscape shifts dramatically once more as it reaches towards the Atlantic. At Killary Fjord, the land suddenly opens into deep water, a glacial incision dividing Connemara from Mayo. Here, the landscape’s buried secrets become visible. The fjord exposes geology directly, revealing the force with which ice once carved through the earth.

To the south, Kylemore Abbey appears against the hillside above Pollacappul Lough. Built first as a private residence before later becoming a Benedictine monastery, it carries another layered story of adaptation and loss. Like Moore Hall, it reflects changing ownership and identity, though here the landscape mirrors it back perfectly in the still water.

Across these places, from Cong to Moore Hall, from Ballinrobe to Killary, patterns continue to repeat in altered forms. Water disappears underground before resurfacing elsewhere. Estates become ruins. Ruins become woodland. Language carries meanings beneath meanings. Stories survive by changing shape.

Returning again to Cong, I have a better understanding of how it forms part of a much larger system of geological flow, historical pressure and cultural inheritance. What holds this region together is not stillness, but movement beneath the surface.

And above Lough Nafooey (also called Lough Finny), not far from the hairpin bends etched into the volcanic ash surface of Aill Dubh (Black Cliff), long after the road narrows into silence once again, a cuckoo’s call crosses the hills, marking time in a landscape that never quite repeats itself in the same way twice.

Accommodation was provided by Michaeleen’s Manor B&B in Cong, County Mayo (twins and doubles €115 B&B, singles €70), and the Leenane Hotel in County Galway (doubles from €120 B&B)