There is far more warmth, even in the cold wet air of Ireland. As American children, we were taught to never talk to stranger; whereas in Ireland, not doing so is considered rude. Not to mention, you will miss out on the best part of Irish culture. The overall friendliness. Now, that is not to say that everyone in Ireland is a wonderful person, because that is not true of any place. But there is a more inviting and welcoming attitude throughout Ireland, which feels very special. I have learned more from the men and women I have met than I will in any book or class or even from Mother Nature. These small interactions quilt together an eclectic and vibrant image of the Irish experience I will never forget.
So, to the couple that I met on my first night in Limerick, when I was lonely and jet lagged, and pretty much faking it: I will never forget you. I was lost and confused. There was so much to take in that I might as well have been blind until that moment. They heard my accent when I ordered, and praised me for coming on a journey such as this one. They talked to me about the growth I will experience, what Cork is like, and what to do at night in Limerick while I was all alone. They invited me to meet them at a club after dinner! They were kind, authentic, and welcoming. They will never know this, but they made me feel like I may find a home here. I have learned more from the men and women I have met than I will in any book or class or even from Mother Nature. To my first Cork cab driver who was quirky and chatty, I will never forget you. He drove me through the crucial parts of Cork in order to familiarize me with this great city that I now call home. He introduced me at reception so I could easily get settled. When all was said and done, we wouldn’t accept a tip. “Oh gosh no,” he said. “We have to take care of our students.” He will never know this, but he made a chaotic time very simple and smooth. To the little old lady in a pink fur coat and a matching hat, I will never forget you. She took off her gloves and wandered through the vacant seats at the coffee shop, yet she asked if she could sit with me. I felt a sense of pride that she chose me, I won’t lie. Maybe she thought I looked welcoming. For whatever reason, I am so happy she sat down with me. She spoke musically, like each statement was a question. She made the sign of the cross before taking a sip of her tea, and talked to me about the sheer comfort of porridge, and how her jacket is her favorite cheap purchase ever. She said hello and goodbye to every employee at the restaurant when she finished her tea. She will never know this, but she made me feel like I was travelling with my grandmother again. To the beautiful and spunky Irish girl in Belfast who complimented me at the bar when I was overtired and underdressed, I will never forget you. She said my old, ratty fleece was “beautiful,” and that I “rocked it.” She invited us to sit with her and her brother, and we spoke like old friends. I felt like I was with my gals at home again. We talked about tinder boys, Chance the Rapper, and spending Valentines Day alone. We exchanged info and she hopes to take us out again on St. Paddy’s day in Dublin. She will never know this, but she made me laugh harder than I have this entire trip, she made me feel like friends weren’t so far out of reach. To the mystic man who saw my soul in the greenhouse, who spoke like velvet and had eyes like the morning sun, I will never forget you. He looked like a well-studied philosopher, very sharp and very wise. He told me, “the problem with the world is that we don’t love each other enough,” before hugging me and filling my heart with joy. What he will never know, or what he may know, is that the joy and free kindness I felt while talking to him, I felt compelled to spread. To all these people whom I have met and who I have yet to meet, thank you and god bless you. This experience would be hollow without my short times with you, and you will never know the energy you have given me. the joy and free kindness I felt while talking to him, I felt compelled to spread. Megstakes: -Missed a train stop looking at my phone for open gelato places, had to ride the train all the way back to where we came from and then all the way back again. -Lost my key on the first day in a hostel -Found the key under the covers in my bed (???) -went out a few nights ago without enough layers, and now I there is snot over literally everything I own. -Bought a blow-up mattress for a friend, told her “IT WON’T BLOW UP! YOU HAVE TO HELP!” she takes one look and tells me, “um, you have to connect the tube to the bed.” -got a little too curious at a harbor, ran downhill on wet cement, FELL HARD. *Gallery Update Coming Soon*
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The tropical grasses in the greenhouse brushed our arms like a gentle caress from a familiar lover. The spidery succulents above our heads hung low and danced in front of our eyes in a haunting stupor. Our eyes were flooded with green in a tropical blur. This magical experience was in the greenhouse of the Belfast Botanic Gardens. The large white structure was vaguely reminiscent of Golden Gate Park, and this slice of the States felt warm in a new place. It was a tight squeeze on either side of the trees, ferns, and succulents, and people passed each other with great discomfort. A huddle of visitors were stopped staring at a particular plant that is extremely rare and odd looking. Devil’s Tongue is a tall tree-like plant that has mastered self-defense. When it is in bloom, it omits an odor of rotting flesh, which steers away any threat. It also attracts flies which helps it to pollenate. The coolest part is that this rancid smelling plant stands majestic and beautiful, proud and colorful. It was admiring this strange offspring of Mother Nature that we first had an encounter with the two old men in front of us. One of them commented on the way my friend talks with her hands so vibrantly. I was intrigued because he didn’t comment on our accents or our backpacks or any of the usual conversation starters. It was a true characteristic that he noticed right away. We then entered one of the side rooms where they housed flowers like lilies and daffodils, and the man turned around to talk with us again. He said, “Where are you girls from in the states?” He was sharply dressed, very sophisticated looking. He had a professorial look, and very soft eyes. He had white hair but glowed with youth and vitality. We exchanged pleasantries about our hometowns and then began to speak more about Ireland. About the accents, the people, and the mindsets. He quickly realized my friend’s pragmatism and asked her zodiac sign. When she carefully replied, “Scorpio,” he said “Ah, yes. You are very logical, very clever, and very pragmatic. You are probably a phenomenal listener, and if someone hurts you, you are unlikely to forget it. What’s most important is that while you are a pragmatist, you are very down to earth and often spiritual. Ah, how lovely. And what about you, love?” He turned to me. Megan and I are shocked. Stunned. Stupefied. He hit her right on the nose. And it wasn’t creepy, it was kind harmless, gentle, almost mystic. I was obviously curious. My inner child screaming, “oooohh do me do me!!!!” I said I am a water sign too, I am an Aquarius. “No, he said, you are an air sign. You are the water bearer, not the water. It is very important, you bring lots of vitality. Studying probably comes very easily to you, and when you do something you probably bury yourself in it. Mozart was a classic Aquarian. The work came so easily to him, and he gave his life to it. You need and want love, but you need your space. You won’t like to feel non-independent. There’s a good deal of detachment that you need and are comfortable with. You are in the clouds a lot, one day here, one day there. What is your boyfriend’s sign?” Stunned, again, I replied, “Capricorn.” He lit up. “Oh, so clever. He’s reliable. So stubborn,” he said with a shake of the head. “Probably worries about money a lot. But most importantly, very faithful. You will teach each other so much about life,” he said with a radiant smile. He then did the same analysis for my friend’s boyfriend. Also very accurate. We learned that he was in a band, floating around as a missionary from Calcutta to Brazil. He said that “if there is a God, he has a heart. He believes in making people smile. You can’t always fix their problems and take away their pain or give them what they need, but God made us to laugh. It was so lovely to meet you girls, I hope you have a beautiful time in Ireland, and Godbless You.” And then he hugged us. This was the 4th person we have met in Belfast that talked to us simply because. Simply for a smile. Sorry Dad, but last week was not one for school. I treated myself to some hiking boots, and I was ready for some new adventures. We were taking day trips left and right, and we left Thursday afternoon for an overnighter in Killarney to see as much of the National Park as we could in two days. Killarney lies just west of Cork and is home to the Ring of Kerry, tourist magnet. I didn’t want to do a whole tour of the ring, I just wanted to hike around and see what we could find. And that’s exactly what we did. There were treasures around every corner.
We stayed the night at a hostel in an all girl’s room. It was well kept and nicer than any dorm I have every lived in. They fed us free breakfast and coffee in the morning and free dinner at night. We went out for a drink to explore the town and stumbled upon a small local bar with just a few people sitting quietly, chatting with the bartender. We were exhausted, so we decided this was our speed. We hung out there for a bit, and had two beers while we reflected and planned. We met a Canadian who had just done the Ring of Kerry, a wonderful woman who had come to visit her wife (the chef), and the bartender who doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he’s probably making fun of you. It ended up being a grand ol’ time for two lost American girls in a tiny Irish town. The next day we snuck out early to hit the trails as early as possible. I turned off my phone first thing in the morning, which was the best decision I could have made. I actually spent the day in the forest, not staring at the forest through a screen. I felt free. First stop was Ross Castle. It was only 2km in, and a hike in Killarney is like your friendly neighborhood parkway. No hills, no rocks, just nice calm paths. We reached Ross Castle by about 9, and the morning fog had started to lift. We could see the mountains across the water and the small islands facing the castle. Everything was so crisp and fresh. We sat on a warped wooden benched and watched the water for about 15 minutes in total silence. It was beautiful. 2 swans were swimming just on the shore near us. I had never seen a swan in real life until then. My friend Megan simply turned to me and said, “you know they mate for life?” My heart was so warm in that moment. I actually spent the day in the forest, not staring at the forest through a screen. I felt free. We made our way next to the Muckross Abbey. This was my favorite part. It was a bit of a haul because we had to hike out of the park and then back in, but it was so worth it. On the way we found the perfect spot for lunch with a gorgeous view of the mountains. Trees were bent and twisted all around us like royal archways and rocks were formed like benches on the water. It was a thing of pure beauty. It was the stuff of fairytales. The abbey came about 7km in. You know that feeling when you walk into an old place and you don’t see the history, you can feel it? It is like the lives there never left, and you share their breath, their steps, their home. There was a 600 year old tree standing in the middle of the abbey. Swirling its way through the stone and out the ceiling, arms reaching wide out over the graveyard beneath it. Bedrooms and Sacristy’s and Choir rooms and Fireplaces, you could see all of them, walk through all of them. There is a difference between seeing a place, photographing it, and experiencing it. Being with it, feeling it. This Abbey welcomed the latter. We came across the Muckross House a few miles down but we didn’t stop for a tour. By this point in the day it was blue sky and gorgeous weather. This hasn’t happened in weeks in Ireland, so we intended to make the most of it. Stay outside, and hike as far as possible. Our mecca as the Torc Waterfall at the base of the closest mountain. On the way we passed strange marshlands with grassy waters reminiscent of Tolkien. We passed cows and sheep and views of snow-capped mountains. We passed lakes and rivers and stone bridges. I think that’s what I love so much about this terrain, you always get a bit of everything. The waterfall was unmatched for anything I had ever seen in my life. Loud, Roaring, Marvelous, Fierce; she was sublime. Both Megan and I threw off our packs upon arrival and climbed as close as we could to the water without getting swept away. In that moment I remembered how important it is to feel small. And how if anything is more powerful than man, its Mother Earth. Megan, an environmentalist, turned to me and said, “It’s when I see things like this that I don’t understand how people can just not care.” We walked back to the train station, stopped for pizza and for warmth in a small church nearby. We tallied up our mileage for the day at nearly 25mi. Our legs were stiff and heads in the clouds, but I don’t think our hearts had ever been so at peace. Its where we belong. With our roots. I’d walk for days in that forest. I’d never leave. Thank you for all your majesty, Killarney. Until Next Time… Megstakes:
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AuthorOne day at a time. Archives
March 2017
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