So He Took My Hand and He Gave Me a Twirl...
I have this theory that time moves faster here in Ireland.
In one more week, I will have been living here for a full month. This concept is simply incomprehensible. Time is flying before my eyes. How is it that when you have such a short period of time in a specific place that everything seems to speed up? I don't mean that everyone here is in a hurry--that is actually the furthest thing from the truth: jobs and errands and tasks are completed at a pace that is very purposeful, deliberate, and without haste. In any event, there is no hurry. It's just, I don't know, this mystical phenomenon about the island that causes time to appear to speed up, in my observance, anyhow.
And it's sad because I think about Keri's trip to Belfast. It was only 3 weeks long. I could not bear to have to leave that suddenly. And to think, Keri fell in love with her city in 3 weeks. What can I do with 16? I'll tell you what:
Make plans to live in County Clare. In a little cottage close to the ocean (but not too close), where I can drop everything I've studied and researched over the years, and become a common housewife with 8 children, whom I will homeschool myself (educate them in maths, reading, and writing. For history and geography, I'll be taking them around the world on field trips. They will learn languages that way too). And there will be acres and acres of land for the chickens and horses and pigs. And there will be a garden where I will grow my own organic produce. And I won't have a TV. Just a radio to receive news. And that's just the beginning. I should have taken notes...
Is that a pathetic dream? To throw away everything I've worked for just to live a simple life in rural, western Ireland? It's really a lovely dream. I wish all this technology would take a hike. The simplicity of my dream is what makes it magical. It's why I'm so smitten with this whole country.
County Clare is incredibly beautiful--and that's my single biggesty understatement of this century. Am I right? This weekend, International Society brought 90 of us up to Galway and on a tour through the Burren and to the Cliffs of Moher.
Galway was brilliant. What a lovely city! Every time I took a breath, I felt a little bit lighter, brighter, and happier (and cleaner, but that's a general Europe thing).
The shopping and restaurants and the streets... and the people. Good god, everyone in Galway can easily make my top 100 nicest people on the planet list. Our accommodations were pleasant as well. I was just a bit nervous about staying in a hostel, as I've never stayed in one before. And we only paid €35 for the entire trip (included one night in the hostel, the bus there and back, and the tour of the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher). What could I expect? Apparently, nothing short of welcoming and comfortable (and VERY clean) rooms. Yay Sleep Zone! I will definitely choose you for my next trip to Galway!
We all met up for Galway nightlife around 8:30, and our group leaders showed us different pubs and night clubs in town. I sort of enjoyed the first one (don't really remember the name. I have a receipt somewhere of my €4.20 pint of Guinness... which wasn't even all that spectacular), and the King's Head was wonderful! €3 pints there!! That's even better than the pub on campus! The band there played some Thin Lizzy hits, "Whiskey in the Jar," and... yes, "Galway Girl." Made me very happy. And then we started going down to night clubs, which I've never been particularly fond of. My feet were killing me by midnight, when we got down to a club called, I kid you not, Cuba. And yes, it's exactly what you would think. It's a club furnished with questionable Cuba-related décor. Pictures of Castro and all. You'd think I'd learn not to drink with too much variance by now (evidenced by completely passing out Thursday evening last week), but I still take pictures of colored lights to remind myself of the night before. It honestly does jog the memory.
I decided to turn in early since we had to be checked out at 10 the next morning, so I abandoned Cuba and rang Tomás so that I could have someone to talk to on the way back to the hostel, which wasn't too far away, but still... something about not being able to legally carry anything on you that could protect you is a little unsettling. I wanted my big brother. So he talked to me until I got to my room, and I instantly fell asleep.
Early the next morning, we grabbed some breakfast (apparently here bagels and cream cheese is served with American chips and a salad-like side?) and checked ourselves out so that we could begin our day tour of the Burren and of the Cliffs.
Our driver, as my new friend Corey put it, was rather sketchy (his words, not mine). He told us the most bizarre stories which I could actually believe. It is Ireland, after all. I need to remember to research Hitler landing in Co. Clare and Ireland using German weapons during their fight for independence. Right.
I wish I was taking geology again. Or a follow up class, anyway. Because I've never seen a landscape as unique as the Burren. From a distance, the rocks take on a purple color (or maybe it's just my horrible vision that makes them appear that way). We wound our way upwards through the hills of rock and plant (tell me something: how can plants like this grow in rocks!?) until we reached the point where the bus could park, and we were left to explore on our own. Just... wow. Pictures do not do justice. It's something you have to see for yourself to believe and to appreciate.
And the Cliffs of Moher?
Overwhelming? Timeless? Divine? I can't come up with the perfect adjective for what I witnessed there. Ignoring all of the people around me for a few seconds, I placed myself back to a time where the location wasn't just another tourist attraction. When it was just a quiet place to relax and to think. To gaze at the majestic and dangerously steep drops. To meditate and remember. To feel connected.
Coming back to reality... the changing cliffs and crashing waters before me are timeless and epic. We're moving on...
The whole trip took everything out of me. Luckily I had some chocolate left from my packed lunch from the day before. Boosted my blood sugar marginally. But I still slept a good 75% of the trip back to Limerick. Pity, as the locals would say.
I'm going back, hopefully, in the next week. Mom and Nanny are coming Friday morning, and I'm going to do the best I can to travel with them wherever they decide to go. Co. Mayo is in the plans for sure because we're bringing Papa home. Everything else is up in the air. But in Ireland, do you really need a plan? Could be why everything is just rushing past. Nothing is set in stone (aside from lectures and tutorials, but study is so secondary...), and events just occur naturally. I like that.
More details later on...
In one more week, I will have been living here for a full month. This concept is simply incomprehensible. Time is flying before my eyes. How is it that when you have such a short period of time in a specific place that everything seems to speed up? I don't mean that everyone here is in a hurry--that is actually the furthest thing from the truth: jobs and errands and tasks are completed at a pace that is very purposeful, deliberate, and without haste. In any event, there is no hurry. It's just, I don't know, this mystical phenomenon about the island that causes time to appear to speed up, in my observance, anyhow.
And it's sad because I think about Keri's trip to Belfast. It was only 3 weeks long. I could not bear to have to leave that suddenly. And to think, Keri fell in love with her city in 3 weeks. What can I do with 16? I'll tell you what:
Make plans to live in County Clare. In a little cottage close to the ocean (but not too close), where I can drop everything I've studied and researched over the years, and become a common housewife with 8 children, whom I will homeschool myself (educate them in maths, reading, and writing. For history and geography, I'll be taking them around the world on field trips. They will learn languages that way too). And there will be acres and acres of land for the chickens and horses and pigs. And there will be a garden where I will grow my own organic produce. And I won't have a TV. Just a radio to receive news. And that's just the beginning. I should have taken notes...
Is that a pathetic dream? To throw away everything I've worked for just to live a simple life in rural, western Ireland? It's really a lovely dream. I wish all this technology would take a hike. The simplicity of my dream is what makes it magical. It's why I'm so smitten with this whole country.
County Clare is incredibly beautiful--and that's my single biggesty understatement of this century. Am I right? This weekend, International Society brought 90 of us up to Galway and on a tour through the Burren and to the Cliffs of Moher.
Galway was brilliant. What a lovely city! Every time I took a breath, I felt a little bit lighter, brighter, and happier (and cleaner, but that's a general Europe thing).
The shopping and restaurants and the streets... and the people. Good god, everyone in Galway can easily make my top 100 nicest people on the planet list. Our accommodations were pleasant as well. I was just a bit nervous about staying in a hostel, as I've never stayed in one before. And we only paid €35 for the entire trip (included one night in the hostel, the bus there and back, and the tour of the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher). What could I expect? Apparently, nothing short of welcoming and comfortable (and VERY clean) rooms. Yay Sleep Zone! I will definitely choose you for my next trip to Galway!
We all met up for Galway nightlife around 8:30, and our group leaders showed us different pubs and night clubs in town. I sort of enjoyed the first one (don't really remember the name. I have a receipt somewhere of my €4.20 pint of Guinness... which wasn't even all that spectacular), and the King's Head was wonderful! €3 pints there!! That's even better than the pub on campus! The band there played some Thin Lizzy hits, "Whiskey in the Jar," and... yes, "Galway Girl." Made me very happy. And then we started going down to night clubs, which I've never been particularly fond of. My feet were killing me by midnight, when we got down to a club called, I kid you not, Cuba. And yes, it's exactly what you would think. It's a club furnished with questionable Cuba-related décor. Pictures of Castro and all. You'd think I'd learn not to drink with too much variance by now (evidenced by completely passing out Thursday evening last week), but I still take pictures of colored lights to remind myself of the night before. It honestly does jog the memory.
I decided to turn in early since we had to be checked out at 10 the next morning, so I abandoned Cuba and rang Tomás so that I could have someone to talk to on the way back to the hostel, which wasn't too far away, but still... something about not being able to legally carry anything on you that could protect you is a little unsettling. I wanted my big brother. So he talked to me until I got to my room, and I instantly fell asleep.
Early the next morning, we grabbed some breakfast (apparently here bagels and cream cheese is served with American chips and a salad-like side?) and checked ourselves out so that we could begin our day tour of the Burren and of the Cliffs.
Our driver, as my new friend Corey put it, was rather sketchy (his words, not mine). He told us the most bizarre stories which I could actually believe. It is Ireland, after all. I need to remember to research Hitler landing in Co. Clare and Ireland using German weapons during their fight for independence. Right.
I wish I was taking geology again. Or a follow up class, anyway. Because I've never seen a landscape as unique as the Burren. From a distance, the rocks take on a purple color (or maybe it's just my horrible vision that makes them appear that way). We wound our way upwards through the hills of rock and plant (tell me something: how can plants like this grow in rocks!?) until we reached the point where the bus could park, and we were left to explore on our own. Just... wow. Pictures do not do justice. It's something you have to see for yourself to believe and to appreciate.
And the Cliffs of Moher?
Overwhelming? Timeless? Divine? I can't come up with the perfect adjective for what I witnessed there. Ignoring all of the people around me for a few seconds, I placed myself back to a time where the location wasn't just another tourist attraction. When it was just a quiet place to relax and to think. To gaze at the majestic and dangerously steep drops. To meditate and remember. To feel connected.
Coming back to reality... the changing cliffs and crashing waters before me are timeless and epic. We're moving on...
The whole trip took everything out of me. Luckily I had some chocolate left from my packed lunch from the day before. Boosted my blood sugar marginally. But I still slept a good 75% of the trip back to Limerick. Pity, as the locals would say.
I'm going back, hopefully, in the next week. Mom and Nanny are coming Friday morning, and I'm going to do the best I can to travel with them wherever they decide to go. Co. Mayo is in the plans for sure because we're bringing Papa home. Everything else is up in the air. But in Ireland, do you really need a plan? Could be why everything is just rushing past. Nothing is set in stone (aside from lectures and tutorials, but study is so secondary...), and events just occur naturally. I like that.
More details later on...