I said I'd blog on this trip and, seeing as I'm taking a writing class, I figured it wouldn't be terribly difficult. Ha. Most of the time I just don't feel my words will do justice to the things I see, and so I'm leaving it to photos. I have greatly enjoyed free writing for class, however, and I figured I could at least post some of my free writes for you to read. They're like little word-snapshots of things I don't always have photos of. I also have another very much longer post on the way--it's currently in the first-draft stage, but I'm also using it as an assignment to turn in for class, so I have some more work to do on it before I turn it in and post it here.
But. For now. Some free writes! I'll post more tomorrow. Or later. Sometime.
This trip to Ireland is reminding me very much of my trip to England and Scotland two years ago. On the bus ride from the airport in Dublin to where we are staying in Greystones especially—just seeing the cars, the streets, the buildings and architecture—it all feels very familiar. I am glad to know that we will be in Ireland for three weeks. Somehow, ten days of fast-paced travel through some of the most beautiful parts of Scotland and England seemed almost criminally insufficient.
I love to walk. I could walk for hours. Or days, if you set me loose. I hate to run (I do it anyway, but I hate it), but get me walking and I will undoubtedly enjoy myself. Yesterday, after going into town for a bit, we took a walk along the coastline. There is a path that runs along next to the coast. It was such a beautiful day--the sun was shining, and when there wasn’t a breeze, it was almost balmy.
It feels like spring and, in some ways, like Quito. This is what I think of when I think of “Quito weather”—warm in the sunshine but cool in the shade and in the breeze. This is the kind of weather I live for—the kind of weather Indiana tends to gloss over in favor of the rude extremes of winter and summer. Indiana’s weather this year was exceptionally confused and sporadic, but even in a normal year, spring sometimes gets forgotten, and my favorite temperatures between a perfect 67 and 70 degrees are skipped over as if, for some entirely obnoxious reason, they are not good enough.
The town of Greystones is much like some of the English and Scottish towns I remember. There are no Walmarts or Meijers—no big chains with stacks of identical clothing. The small shops and their wares, the houses, gardens, and buildings are all so very individual. Everything is as unique as each the residents of each town, lending everything and everyone a charm I am beginning to realize is sometimes missing from American life.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
My feet slapped the pavement in chorus with those of my companions as we sauntered down a hill and out from under the cover of the trees, dodging small red and silver cars as we wound our way across the narrow street. My eyes shifted from the tips of my shoes up to drink in the delicately strong windows fitted into the stately gray stone form of a church building sitting contentedly and invitingly just up ahead.
This is the sight that greeted my companions and me this past Sunday as we came upon St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland in Greystones. We all wandered up the gravel staircase. I smoothed flyaway wisps of hair and adjusted my dress for the dozenth time, feeling the familiar uncertainty that one always feels just before entering a church to which one has never been. My uncertainty, as I’ve often discovered is the case, was unfounded.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Warm sunshine smiled down on the four of us as we walked, leisurely purpose propelling our steps toward the friendly orange building. The letters adorning the front of the establishment seemed to sing to us as we approached. “The Happy Pear,” they cooed, drawing us inside with the promise that we would not leave disappointed. We squeezed inside the small room to place our orders, all four of us perusing the menu signs on the walls, trying to make our decisions.
I decided on herbal tea, and said so to the woman with the expectant face behind the counter. “Which kind?” she immediately countered, on cue. Slightly panicked, I realized I hadn’t thought that far in advance. “What do you suggest?” I stalled, saying the next words that sprung to my mind. “It really depends on you,” she smiled obligatorily and gestured behind her to a colorful row of teas. My eyes lighted on the bright green bag just above her wrist. “Lemongrass, please,” I said quickly, beginning to feel an invisible pressure from the woman behind me, waiting with an aromatic tray of lunch.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Greystones, County Wicklow, Ireland
If you have a deep-seated desire to spend any amount of time in the quaintest and friendliest of Irish towns away from the noise and worry of large cities and not a ten minute walk from green farm fields filled with sleepy Irish sheep, I can personally and warmly recommend to you the town of Greystones. Perched just on the edge of the Irish Sea, the town is lively and energetic during the day, the very picture of cheerful coastal Irish life. The streets are lined with shops selling every convenience for which you might find yourself in want, and all that is lacking is the breakneck speed and inescapable diesel fume-heavy air of city streets.
With every turn of your head, your eyes land on a family making their way up the sidewalk, toddlers and leashed dogs in tow, enjoying the day and, seemingly, each other. Subtle differences in accents cause you to listen that much more closely to the words they exchange, and how small children especially--words of any kind relatively new in their little mouths--pronounce syllables and sentences.
It seems as though nothing could ever be amiss in this town. As though the concepts of tragedy, sadness, and hostility would be entirely out of place amid the cheerful, colorful buildings and friendly faces.
It seems as though nothing could ever be amiss in this town. As though the concepts of tragedy, sadness, and hostility would be entirely out of place amid the cheerful, colorful buildings and friendly faces.
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