Ireland

We’ve seen a bit of everything so far, the ancient and picturesque and the urban and modern. In all its forms, Ireland feels very familiar to me, much more so than can be accounted for by the simple fact of my having traveled here before.

I noticed this phenomenon before. There are pieces of it that just feel like home. The area we toured around Killarney, despite its great hills and mountains, felt like Mississippi. Maybe it was the rurality of it, the farm country of it, the out-of-the-way-ness of it. Maybe it was a slant of light through the trees. I can’t explain it, but I know I felt it.

Killarney was good. I got to see things I’d already done again, revisit them, refresh old memories. We did the jaunting cars again. That was lovely. I had forgotten how nice that was. It wasn’t good before. I don’t know why. This time around, though, I could just relax and enjoy it. In the evening, I got to have a glass of Guinness, too. I haven’t had alcohol of any shape, kind, or color in five years, and although I felt this and probably won’t have any more for a long time, just having that here in Ireland where it is so much better than anywhere else was wonderful. I bought a stupid postcard today of Mona Lisa holding a pint with a foam mustache to commemorate the occasion. It’s going in my journal when I get home. Heh.

Now we’re in Dublin. For all its size, this place always feels so small. It does not feel like almost one third the population of the entire nation lives here. It does not seem possible. And then there’s the age of most of them. It’s like a giant college town. We did a walking tour today, and we started it in front of the Bank of Ireland where the Occupy Dublin movement was. There wasn’t much to it, to be brutally honest. I guess it hasn’t taken off here like it has in NYC or other places, but I just looked around at all the teenagers making out, playing hacky sack, and standing around trying to look important and cool, and thought, “Yeah. I believe it now.” Our students were a little shell shocked, I think, to look around at all the blue hair and skin-tight clothes. It was sort of funny. I kept thinking, “Oh my children. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Sure enough, as we wandered, the Six Nations Rugby match that was on let out and the Scotland and Ireland fans filled the streets headed to the pubs (or from the pubs) in various states of despair or ecstasy. Then it got really good. We got greeted, high-fived, happily jostled, and one person learned what the Scots wear under their kilts. (A question you know you should just never ask.)

Tomorrow is the part I’m waiting not-so-patiently for, Trinity College. The Claddagh I bought today to replace the one I’d damaged and Trinity College are my two big Irish things. Oxford and Stratford are my two big ones in the UK. Past that, everybody else can do whatever they like. I don’t really care. As long as I can have mine, I’m good.