Change is Hard

Just as I crested the top of the stairs on Thursday, I saw the tram pulling away from our stop.  The next tram wasn't due for 17 minutes.

In the grand scheme of Important Things, this was not one of them.  There would be another tram coming. The weather was beautiful so it wouldn't be unpleasant to wait. It wasn't like I were going anywhere emergent or like I were on a tight schedule. There wasn't any reason for this to cause me to cry.

And yet, it did.  I stood at the railing of the platform, looking out toward the distant mountains and struggling to keep the tears from escaping my eyes and rolling down my cheeks.

After finishing my errands and on the way home, I started thinking about my reaction. It seemed an exaggerated response to such a minor irritation, and I don't like it when things don't make sense.

It struck me that my life here feels out of synch. Like the tram pulling away just moments before my arrival, I am just slightly out of step with my environment. It's like trying to dance the waltz to a song with a 7/8 time signature.  Or trying to listen to the radio station that's just slightly out of tune.

I feel like we live in a hotel room.  With the exception of two bookcases and a rocking chair, none of the furniture is ours, none of it is something we specifically chose. I'm fearful of putting any art on the walls, afraid that even a removable fastening might damage the paint. Moving into a furnished place has been both a blessing and a curse - nice that we didn't have to bring much with us and pay more shipping costs, unfortunate in that we got what we got.  I'm a creature that's sensitive to my environment and it just feels so sterile, so uncomfortable, not cozy at all.

I don't feel like I fit in anywhere. I feel like a tourist, an "other," someone who doesn't really belong here. I don't have any kind of community and, even for an introvert, that can feel very lonely and scary.

Nothing feels familiar, even the places I've visited multiple times.  Back in Minnesota, my cubicle at work felt familiar. The library felt familiar. The grocery store felt familiar. The streets I drove on every day felt familiar. Seeing our resident squirrels and bunnies and deer felt familiar.

I guess I thought I'd have an easier time acclimating, which is ridiculous considering that I've met me before. Would it have been easier if we'd moved to another US state rather than a completely new country?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  I think I've mentioned before that I didn't seem to have this much trouble when I moved from Minnesota to Texas but the circumstances were different and I was different.  That was 30 years ago.

My inner critic chides me for complaining and kvetching.  You ASKED for this gift, she says. You told the Universe this is what you wanted, and look at you - not even being able to appreciate this opportunity because you're too focused on what's lacking.  What are you doing to fix the situation?

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I haven't done a very good job of integrating here either.  I haven't thrown myself head-first into finding ways to assimilate - attending cultural events, trying to get together with like-minded people, doing what I CAN do to make our apartment more homey.  So, much of the responsibility for my current predicament is resting at my own feet.

I've been getting lots of signs lately to "let go."  You can't grasp or accept the here-and-now if you're still holding onto the past. You're wasting energy dragging what-was into what-is. Back in 2005, I had a tarot reading, and the only thing I remember the guy saying was that I spend a lot of energy wishing things were different instead accepting the way things actually were.

When you have separation anxiety, letting go is difficult.  The release of something, the absence or distance, is the reason for the anxiety, after all.  But is holding onto my previous life keeping me from flourishing in my present one?

Joseph Campbell has a great quote where he said "We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

In a couple of weeks, we'll have been here for nine months.  It's interesting to me that I've been seeing a lot of "rebirth" signs along my path recently, just as my emotions are coming to a head.  Perhaps all of this time leading up to next month has been a gestation period for me, and I'm getting ready to burst into a new life.  Richard Bach wrote "What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly."

Change is hard.  Growth is hard.  Being born is hard.  But the alternative - stagnation, paralysis, death - doesn't sound all that appealing to me.

So.  It's onward and upward.  I've got a lot of work to do.

(The following is a vision board I created many, many years ago.  I actually think I brought it along when we moved here.  For someone so resistant to change, it's funny how this board was all about change.  And there's that butterfly again.)

Beyond the Sea

Eli had scheduled vacation for this past Thursday and Friday.  I asked him if we could visit the sea on one of those days, and he was in very enthusiastic agreement.

We planned our trip for Thursday, thinking it might be less crowded.  We haven't been here long enough to see if people take many three-day weekends but if they do, we figured we'd be safer going out on a day other than Friday.

Miraculously, Bus 7 was on time and soon we were on our way toward Killiney Beach.  We passed a playground along the route, and I noticed they had a merry-go-round there.  It brought me back to the days of riding on a contraption like that as a kid, holding tightly to the bar while my impish cousin tried to spin it so fast that the riders would be dislodged and flung off.  This playground also had a merry-go-round for one - it looked like one of those papasan chairs that seemed to be all the rage back in the 70s.

After a 15-20 minute ride, we got out in Dun Laoghaire and walked a few blocks to get to the DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) platform.  Unlike the sleek, silver, needle-nosed LUAS trams, the DART train is boxy and square-faced.  It was my first time on the DART, and I enjoyed it.  The seats were more comfortable - seemed larger and the seat backs were taller - and the ride was quiet.

The third stop let us out at Killiney Beach, right next to the water.  I wanted to visit a restroom before we went down to the beach, and Google Maps told me there was a public restroom close-by.  At the entrance to the car park, there was a sign with a bathroom symbol that pointed to the right so off we started down the sidewalk.

After walking for quite some time, we started to get into a residential area, and I began to think we weren't in the correct spot.  Eli pulled up Google Maps on his phone, and we figured out the bathrooms....were located in the car park.

Back we went toward the car park.  But it wasn't a total waste.  I got some extra steps in and I noticed one of the mileage signs along the DART track said 9 3/4 (for Harry Potter fans, you'll remember that Platform 9 3/4 was how you got to the Hogwarts Express train).

The restroom itself posed another conundrum.  There was no wording on the doors - just these medieval-looking woodcut plaques (these are not my photos - I grabbed them off the internet):

We assumed the image with the longer hair pointed to the women's restroom, so in I went.  And it was pretty gross so I stayed only as long as necessary.

We crossed the street and walked down some stairs, finally on the beach.  Our stretch of beach was pretty rocky - lots of small stones and not many patches of sand.  It made walking challenging since the terrain was rough and shifting.

I stood and took a deep breath.  The scent was fresh rather than being briny or fishy.  A handful of people were in the water, but more were simply sitting on the beach, enjoying the bright blue sky and strong sun.  One woman was slinging a ball into the water, much to the delight of her spaniel dog.  A small child who was walking slightly ahead of us was amusing himself by grabbing a handful of small stones and half-spinning like a discus thrower before opening his hand to release them toward the sea.  I walked carefully around the boy, on the off-chance his hand didn't open at the correct time and we had to dodge any incoming rocks.  I had fully expected it to be quite windy by the water, but there wasn't much wind at all.

We drew closer to the water and began our stroll, waves rushing in and out, making that wonderful shoosh sound as the water dragged over rocks and sand.  (Sound on to hear the sea.)

I was kissed by the sea.  Or at least, my right foot was.  An aggressive wave snuck up on me, and with the slope, the wet rocks, and the wet sand beneath, I wasn't able to scramble back before the water sluiced over my shoe.

We stopped in an area that didn't have many people around, put our light jackets on the rocky ground, and planted ourselves.

I had fully expected that being by the water would make me cry, but it didn't.  I don't know if I weren't allowing myself to tap into my emotions, fearing a floodgate would open and I'd be sobbing on the beach.  Or if I just didn't feel connected.  Being near Lake Superior in Minnesota never failed to bring tears to my eyes and uncap wells of deep-seated feelings.  Maybe it's because Minnesota was home to me (still is, in some respects), and this place just hasn't sunk into my bones yet.  It was still pleasant being by the water, but it didn't have the emotional pull that I had expected.

As the waves began encroaching on our location, Eli and I got up and walked farther down the beach.  We encountered beached kelp, beautiful rocks, and I found a shell.  We also saw a crab leg and a pile of white feathers, signifying a bad end for a sea bird.  If I had my ruthers, I would've weighed down my backpack with all of the pretty stones I found but, as Eli said, it's better to just take memories/photos than objects.  I did, however, steal a small heart-shaped rock.  I felt like it was a sign telling me Lissa was near.

By this time, it was nearing lunchtime and we were hungry, so it was back aboard the DART to head for Dun Laoghaire.  Not knowing what restaurants were in the area, we started walking along the main drag.  We had passed a Nando's not long after getting off the train but, as we had been to Nando's once before, I thought we should perhaps try a new place.

Eventually, after many blocks, we decided to return to Nando's as nothing else looked promising.  At Nando's, you can either go up to the counter to place your order OR scan a QR code with your phone and do it online.  Eli entered our order on his phone, and we settled in to wait.  We had both requested pop - they have a soft drink station where you get your own drink, but you have to wait for a server to bring you a glass.

After a good 10 or 15 minutes, I finally got up and approached a server.  She apologized that no one had brought glasses to us yet and went to retrieve one for each of us.  And then we waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  At one point, a server came over to let us know they were out of broccoli so Eli had to select a different side.

After what seemed like a weirdly elongated period of time, our food arrived.  I had ordered the butterfly chicken with medium-heat peri-peri spice, as well as peri-seasoned fries and garlic bread.  I was grateful that I'd only went with the medium heat because as it was, my lips were tingling from the spice.

Lunch complete, we walked up the street to the bus stop.  There was an ice cream shop just a few doors down from the stop, and I was tempted to get a cone.  They had soft-serve that looked just like Dairy Queen.  But our bus was only 10 minutes away, and you're not supposed to have food/drink on public transit (but people do) so I passed, not wanting to have to bolt down an ice cream cone.

The birds in the urban areas are fairly fearless.  They equate humans with food and, because humans are messy pigs, their reasoning is sound.  There were a couple pigeons strutting near us, looking for scraps.  They had just discovered a small piece of bread but before they could enjoy it, this large fellow swooped down and took it away, swallowing it in one gulp.

This church - St. Michael's - was right across the street from the bus stop.  I liked the look of the tower, so I snapped a photo.

Our bus was right on time again.  Between our recent jaunt to Stillorgan and this trip, I had the best bus-luck since I've been here.  [Sidenote: That luck ran out yesterday when we were trying to get to the grocery store in Ballybrack and our bus was delayed to the point of never showing up at all.]  The lower level of the bus was packed so we moved up the stairs to the second deck.  I had never been up on the second level, and it was harrowing to navigate the narrow stairwell and walk to a seat while the bus was in motion, especially when it made a turn while I was just getting to the top of the steps.

It was an interesting perspective to be so high above street level, eyesight even with the signage on stores and such.

After an unremarkable and quiet ride, we were home.  I'm sure we'll visit the sea again in the near future.

And I'm getting ice cream next time.

Cornerstone

As our current apartment lease expires in August, we've started looking into different places to live.  This apartment is fine, for the most part, but it's just not where we want to be.  There aren't many shops or restaurants around us, and it would be nice to live in an area with more options.

I pop into the Ireland real estate site every now and again to see what's out there.  I checked out an apartment complex called The Cornerstone, which is in Stillorgan.  Stillorgan is about 4 miles from us to the north.

We needed to take bus E1 to our destination, and the bus stop for this route is over by our veterinary clinic.  As the cats were nearly out of dry food, this was one of those "two birds with one stone" types of situations.  Eli went to pick up the food while I sat at the bus stop.  My ankle gives me trouble every now and again, so I thought I would save some steps where I could.

Just as Eli exited the vet clinic, our bus was headed toward us so that was great timing.  (The bus must not've known I was going to be there because otherwise, with my bus-luck, it would've either been late or not arrived at all.)

After a 15-20 minute ride, we got off the bus and had a short walk to the apartment complex.  We wanted to get the lay of the land around the building - see if there were anything that might pique the cats' interest (trees, people walking with pets, cars).  It's important to us that they have some kind of stimulation because they don't have much of that here.  Depending upon the apartment orientation, there was either some nature or a busy street.

Stillorgan Shopping Centre is right across the street from the apartment building, so we wandered over to see what stores were available.  There was a young couple with a pretty long-haired dachshund, so I started cooing at the dog and the couple stopped.

The dog (we failed to get his name) wasn't having it.  He went into protect mode, barking and lunging at us.  The woman squatted down to talk to the dog, and we chatted with the man.  I told him that I'd had a dachshund while growing up, and I said that Heidi was forever staring up at trees, hunting chipmunks.  Once, she was chasing a chipmunk, and it reversed course, plowing into her.  Neither animal seemed to know what to do and froze, before the chipper started running again toward the tree with Heidi in pursuit.

After these few minutes, the dog suddenly decided that we weren't a threat.  He came over and sniffed at our shoes, allowing pettings and licking our hands.

We walked around the mall (there are TWO bookstores, y'all, and the Stillorgan Library is temporarily housed on the second level).  At the mall and up and down the street, there were multiple restaurant options that would cater to Eli's vegetarian diet - and an Eddie Rockets (50's style diner) that would cater to mine.  Just down the hill was a vet clinic (interestingly, you'd take a street called The Hill to get there), about a 5-minute walk from the apartment.  The bus stops are very close so transport would be a breeze.

There are five separate buildings/wings to the complex and they're each named after an author/actor/artist with links to the area:  Maeve Binchy, Dermot Morgan, William Orpen, Eavan Boland, and Samuel Beckett.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we might be able to move there in a few months' time. The area seemed to check a lot of boxes for us.  We reached out to the management company but since we're not moving until August, they asked us to reach out to them again in June/July.

We walked to a bus stop across the street from the apartment so we could head towards Dundrum.  Each of us had a book holding at the Dundrum Library, and we were going to catch the tram back home.  We only had to wait a couple minutes before the L25 bus rumbled up.  Again, the bus must've been unaware of my presence because it was a painless transaction.

After a short trip, we collected our books from the library and made the quick walk to the Luas platform.

I don't want to get my hopes up.  There might not be an available apartment for us when it's time to move or they might reject our application.  So I'll keep looking at other options but Cornerstone is definitely at the top of the list.

In the Club

 A while ago, I found out about a club called American Women's Club of Dublin (AWCD).  As the name suggests, it's made up of transplanted women from North America, and they have monthly gatherings (girls' night out, book club, wine club) as well as special events (afternoon tea, 4th of July, Canadian thanksgiving, football tailgate).  They also participate in some philanthropic ventures and have health/wellness meetups for folks who want to go hiking, play tennis, collect sea glass.

For whatever reason, I kept dragging my heels when I thought about joining.  I don't know why.  The annual fee was only €95 which wasn't bad.  Since we don't have a vehicle, I reached out to the membership team to see if club activities were easily accessible via public transportation and was told that they were.

I have no support system here which I realized was a source of anxiety for me.  As much as I'm an introvert, I also find that I'm more comfortable when I have people close-by that I can reach out to if needed.  Someone I worked with at Sherburne County was on a vacation in the Dominican Republic with his family mid-March, and he tragically became ill and passed away.  That further heightened my anxiety because it further reinforced the idea that if something were to happen to Eli, I'm alone.

So I took the plunge and submitted my application.

There was a new member meeting scheduled to be held March 27 at a board member's home.  I like to be able to do a dry run when I'm traveling to an unfamiliar location; I didn't get a chance to make a practice run so come March 27, I was flying blind.  If you know anything about me, you know that I do NOT like uncertainty.  To quell my nerves, I tried to frame this as an exciting adventure.

The meeting was slated to begin at 10 a.m., and I had a one-hour bus ride ahead of me, so I was at the Brides Glen bus stop around 8:20 a.m.  I figured that would give me some wiggle room in case something unexpected happened.

The buses do not automatically halt at every stop.  You have to flag them down if you're at the stop; if you're on the bus, you hit the "stop" button to let the driver know you want to get off.

Brides Glen is the alpha and omega, the beginning and end, of the route for Bus 7.  When the bus drops off passengers at Brides Glen, it parks a few yards up the street from the actual bus stop.  And then it sits there, lurking, taunting the poor souls haunting the stop.  I'm not sure why this happens - if the driver takes a quick break or if s/he does a quick-clean of the bus or...I'm not sure.

Eventually, Bus 7 lurched down the street and halted at my wave.  Eli has ridden more buses than I have, and he suggested writing down the names of a few of the stops that came before the stop I wanted.  That way, I would know when my stop was approaching and could be prepared to signal the bus to pull over at the appropriate time.

When you get on the bus and you're paying your fare by using a Leap (transport) card, you put your card on a reader and let the driver know where you're headed.  S/he punches in some information, and this is what deducts the appropriate amount from your card.

I put my card on the reader and told the bus driver, "St. Mary's Road South, please."  He asked me to repeat it, and I did so.  And he said something about not being sure where that was.

An inauspicious beginning, to be sure.

Fortunately, I had my list of stops and I told him it was right after the stop at Landsdowne, and he appeared to know where that was.

We traveled through towns that were new to me, and I kept my head on a swivel, taking it all in.  I got my first glimpse of the Irish Sea which peeked between the buildings on our trip through Dun Laoghaire, saw lots of tulips and daffodils swaying in the road medians, noticed that many houses in the area had names like Eaglewood and Travelsea on plaques screwed to fences and doors.

About halfway through the route, the driver pulled over to a stop and shut off the engine.  He opened the doors, and I heard him say "Is she okay?"  I didn't see what had happened but apparently a woman at the stop had some type of medical issue.  I don't know if she passed out or what.  One of the passengers also got off the bus to offer assistance - I assume she was a medical professional of some kind.  After a delay, the afflicted woman boarded the bus and we continued on our way.

A few minutes and a few miles passed, and the passenger who had offered assistance asked the driver to stop as the ill woman wanted to get off.  Kindly, the passenger got off with the stricken person, not wanting her to be alone.  The driver ensured that it was okay for him to go on without her before pulling back into traffic.

It was around 9:45 a.m. when I stepped off the bus.  I had mapped the walking route from the bus stop to the member's house, but I have a lousy sense of direction and managed to get lost.  It doesn't help that streets here don't have signage so I was having trouble knowing exactly where I was.  I knocked on two doors, figuring I was not in the right place when no one answered.  I had jotted down the host's phone number so, trying not to panic, I gave her a call to let her know I was having trouble finding her house.  It didn't help that the CityMapper app I was using on my phone showed me the route from the bus stop to her house - but didn't have a "you are here" dot to show where *I* was.  Not helpful.

Fortunately, I wasn't too far afield and gratefully found my way to the correct house.

A handful of people were already there, chatting in groups of twos and threes.  I struck up a conversation with a gal named Meg.  She mentioned she was from Minnesota.  I asked her when she'd gotten to Ireland and what had brought her here.  She said her husband had been transferred, and they'd arrived in August.  I asked where her husband worked, and she said Element - which is where Eli works.  We laughed about the small-world serendipity of our meet-up.  I got her husband's name and when I talked with Eli later that evening, he said he did indeed know her husband.

One of the attendees owns a bakery/catering business, and she brought some delightful baked goods with her.  We all snagged some treats and settled down around the dining table.

Noreen, our host, welcomed us and talked a bit about the club.  Other board members explained their roles and gave more information about the club's mission and such.  Then it was time for everyone to introduce themselves.  And this is always my reaction:

I do not like being in the spotlight and, without fail, this situation triggers amnesia in me - I don't remember who I am, where I came from, or anything I've ever done.

They didn't start with me, which was good - and bad.  I followed a woman named Aimee, who said that her grandmother was a Holocaust survivor and that her (Aimee's) brother had written a book about her grandmother's experience.  Aimee is a member of SAG-AFTRA (Screen Actors Guild) and she narrated the audiobook.  Aimee followed a woman named Jennifer, who had been a homicide investigator as well as a judge in the violent crime division.  And Jennifer followed a woman named Caryna, who owned the bakery and had an interesting story to tell about living in Italy.

So Aimee wrapped up her tale, and everyone's eyes swung to me.  I laughed and said, "Yeah, after that?  I'm out."

But I managed to tell a bit about my life, although if you asked me to recount what I said, I would have no idea because I pretty much dissociated while speaking.

My return bus was supposed to arrive at the Haddington Road stop around 12:30 p.m. so at 12:20 p.m., I said my goodbyes and headed out.  I checked the transit information online, and it didn't show a bus scheduled for 12:30; instead, it was showing 1 p.m.

In the event that something went screwy with my return trip, I had written out some instructions for an alternate way to get back home.  I crossed the street to again wait for Bus 7 at the St. Mary's Road South stop, which was scheduled to arrive at 12:40 p.m.

I got off the bus at Clare Street and turned right.  My destination was the Luas tram station at Dawson Street, and I hoped I was heading in the right direction.  When I saw the sign for Costa Coffee, I relaxed as that was my landmark for turning left.  I knew when I saw Hodges Figgis (the bookstore), I was fine.

At this point, everyone reading along should clap for me.  You don't know how big a deal this was.  Eli is the type to just show up somewhere and calmly figure out how to get where he needs to be.  I am the type to curl up into a tight ball and sob if I have the slightest inkling that I'm lost.

My tram was due in 10 minutes so I stood and took in my surroundings.  It was very hard NOT to go across the street and disappear into the bookstore.  However, I was exhausted.  Two hours of interaction with a group of strangers drained all the energy from me, and I just wanted to be home.

There was a group of young schoolchildren in a flock just up the street from where I stood, and they were enthusiastically belting out a medley of unfamiliar tunes.  And then they started singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" - in Irish.

I boarded the tram and apparently, everyone else in City Centre had the same idea because the train was packed.  I was jammed back between the tram cockpit and the door - and then four or five more people got on at the next stop, so I was even more crowded than before. 

I have issues with claustrophobia.  If I know I can get to an escape route, it calms me but in this case, there was no escape route available.  The door I was standing by wasn't the door that was opening at each stop (there are exits on both sides of the tram, but the only door you can open is the one that leads to the platform).  I had to focus on deep breathing, looking out at the sky, telling myself that if there were an emergency both sets of doors would probably open automatically.

Thankfully, as we got further from City Centre, the train began to empty, and my nervous system calmed again.

I had been away for about six hours, so the cats had something to say when I walked into the apartment.  I got them something to eat and then wearily collapsed on the couch, glad that I went but doubly glad to be home.

Herons and Seagulls and Books - Oh My!

Yesterday morning, Eli asked if I wanted to go to St. Stephen's Green, which is a park in City Centre.  I asked if we could also go to Hodges Figgis as it's right down the block from the park.

I had bought a Trivial Pursuit game at a charity shop a couple weeks ago, and I brought a stack of cards along for the tram ride.  We passed the time going through the questions and giving our best guesses.  It's the general (non-themed) version of the game, but being sold in Ireland, there were a lot of Ireland-based questions that we had no clue about.

On weekends, the trams into City Centre get very full with people standing in every open space, and yesterday was no exception.  I become claustrophobic when I think my escape route is inaccessible so it was nice to have a distraction.  Especially when at one point, a young woman was standing in the aisle right next to my seat and slightly bumping me with her leg or purse.  If we had had to disembark quickly, she would've learned the folly of being in my personal space.

So after months of saying "I want to go to there," I finally went to there.  "There" being Hodges Figgis, a huge bookstore on Dawson Street in Dublin.

The company was founded in 1768 and lays claim to being Ireland's oldest bookshop.  If you want to read more about its history, go here:  Hodges Figgis: Our History

I walked through that door and just stopped, sucking in a deep breath and trying to take it all in.  Bookstores fill me with an incredible sense of home and of life and of awe...and of overwhelm, if I'm being completely honest.  This store is huge - four floors - and there are books in every nook and cranny.  I was like an excited puppy who's surrounded by toys and unsure which one to grab first.

I felt like I were walking on air as I moved from shelf to shelf, from topic to topic.  There's a scene in the TV show "Two and a Half Men" where one of the characters is in a bookstore and he has a nervous breakdown because there are so many books that he'll never get a chance to read.  I have that thought when I'm in a bookstore.  It hasn't caused me to have a breakdown (yet) but it's always present in the back of my mind.

Eli browsed for a few minutes before escaping next door to Pret a Manger (that's French for "ready to eat" - it's a coffee shop much like Starbucks).

The lowest floor housed books that were "remainders" which is basically clearance books.  I was non-aggressively cornered by a clerk who had the Irish gift of gab along with a very, very heavy Irish accent.  I understood maybe three words out of ten and hoped the responses I made actually had anything to do with what he was saying.

On the fourth floor, a pleasant clerk asked if she could help me find anything.  I said, "Could you please help me NOT find anything?"  I told her if I worked there, I would be working for free because my salary would go toward buying a ton of books.  As I was checking out, I told the cashier that I loved the store but it was good I didn't work there because I'd be working for books, basically.  She said that's usually what happens during someone's first year there, and I can imagine that's true.

I typically get my books from the library, but I treated myself to these three beauties:  Ireland's Animals, Irish Customs and Rituals, and The Mammoth Book of Irish Humour (which I bought for Eli but I'll also read at some point).

 

I could've spent a lot more time there - and a lot more money - but I was getting overstimulated so it was time to go.

I walked over to Pret to collect Eli.  There was a young child there dressed in a nubbly brown coat/jumper that made him/her look like a bear cub.  This tot was completely invested in sleep, entire body stretched out in his/her stroller with both arms flung to the side.  It would be nice to be able to sleep like that.

We could have taken the tram to St. Stephen's Green but since it was a short walk and a fairly decent day, we decided to walk.

Upon entrance to the park, we were greeted by a pigeon welcoming committee.  There were three sitting on a fence by the trees, and I heard cooing coming from above so I looked up to see these bobbins all along a branch.  A lady came along with her dog, who lunged at the fence-sitters and scattered them.  The birds in the tree seemed fairly unperturbed.

We walked around the large water feature, encountering ducks, seagulls, some swans, and a grey heron.  What struck me most is that there is no barrier or fencing around the water.  I'm sure there have been instances of people going into the water, either accidentally or on purpose, but Dublin seems to trust its citizens not to be idiots.

There was a seagull shrieking at someone sitting on a bench.  I would assume he was asking for food but maybe he was just ticked off that another creature was invading his turf (gulls seem to be quite territorial).  The only description I could come up with for the way the gull was moving was that he was skulking.  He seemed to have his shoulders pulled up as he stalked around on the path.

There was a rugby game yesterday afternoon in Dublin between Ireland and France, so we saw a good number of people walking around with the colors of the French flag painted on their faces or wearing a team scarf or shirt.  One pub we passed had a balloon garland above its entrance where half of the balloons were green/white/orange (Ireland flag colors) and the other half were red/white/blue (French flag colors).

The tram ride home was thankfully less crowded.  At one stop, I looked out to see a little girl sitting on a bench and she gave off Hollywood starlet vibes.  She was dressed all in pink and wearing pink sunglasses.  Her hair was golden flax and reminded me of Rita Hayworth-esque waves.  At another stop, a mom and her little girl got aboard.  Little one was in a stroller and she made it known that she wanted to go sit in a seat.  So Mom got her out of the stroller and hiked up into a tram seat.  The kid sat there all of three minutes....and then wanted to be back in her stroller, so Mom had to reverse the process.

Back home, we had lunch and watched the rugby game.  Ireland got pummeled by France 42-27 so I imagine all of those French fans I saw were très content.

Two Years

Two years ago today, I lost my best friend of 30+ years to a combination of cancer and Covid.  If you'd like to read about our lives together, I would invite you to visit this blog:  Silver Linings: Jill's Story

When we lived in Texas, Melissa and I would haunt the local Barnes & Noble bookstore on a near-weekly basis.  We would blissfully wander the stacks, hunting for literary gems, and then sit in the cafe, enjoying a hot beverage (mocha for her, cocoa for me) while we chatted or wrote.

I wanted to do something to honor her memory today.  I thought about spending some quiet time in a cemetery but there are none that are conveniently located.  [I did find out during my search that Sinead O'Connor is buried in a cemetery that's about 25 minutes away from our apartment.]  So I decided to go to the Dundrum Shopping Centre to visit a bookstore and have a hot chocolate.

I went to Eason's (bookstore), and I moved among the books but my heart just wasn't in it.  I couldn't focus, couldn't find any meaningful connection to Lissa there.

Leaving the bookstore, I went to the Off Beat Donuts kiosk where I bought a Boston creme donut and a hot chocolate (I inhaled the donut before realizing I should've taken a photo of it).

As he set my drink on the counter, the barista asked if I wanted marshmallows and chocolate added, and I said of course - how could you turn that down?  He said that some people would decline, and it made him sad that they would deprive themselves of that joy.

I took my donut and drink and sat on a padded bench in the middle of one of the mall's corridors, eating and drinking and feeling alone.  I had hoped that getting out of the house, getting out of my head, would help but I felt very disconnected from everything.

In the flower boxes lining the mall's entrance, bright daffodils gleamed yellow in the greyness of the day.  Lissa was always tickled to see the daffodils in her yard.

Her absence casts a pall over my Ireland adventure.  She would've been so thrilled for us upon hearing the news that we were moving here, would've loved reading this blog and hearing about our new life on the Emerald Isle.  I know she would've made it a goal to visit us here - a fairy returning to her roots, a mermaid returning to her sea.  If I had some of her ashes, I would scatter some in a forest, scatter some in the ocean, so she would always be a part of this place. I'll have to content myself with knowing her spirit is here - in my heart and in my soul.

I wish I could meet her at the airport, welcome her to this land, give her a huge hug, take her to a pub and watch her knock back a shot of Jameson's, watch those Irish eyes dance.

But it was not a gift I was meant to have.  And it makes me very sad.

Day Tripper

Our adventure began on a grey, dim Wednesday morning.  We boarded the tram a little before 7 a.m., headed toward Dublin City Centre and our date with the Wild Rover tour bus that would take us a couple hours south to County Wicklow.

The pick-up point for the tour bus was in front of a hotel that was right across from our tram stop.  We only had to stand for a few minutes, and then the bus pulled up to receive us.

The tour guide, Murphy (who said his full name is Joe Murphy, but anyone with the surname Murphy usually goes by Murphy, Murph, or Spud), checked off our name on his clipboard and asked from where we came.  We explained that we lived in Ireland, but arrived from Minnesota.  I wasn't sure why he was asking for that information, but it became clear throughout the day.

The bus seated 37, but we only had 27 so it wasn't packed which was nice.  There was an older couple seated across the aisle from us, and they were from Texas.  I asked which part of Texas, and the man said they were about 100 miles from Dallas.  I said that I'd lived in Tyler - they live in Sulphur Springs, which is about an hour north of Tyler, so they were familiar with it.  We said we had come from Minnesota, and he asked if we were Vikings' fans.  We talked a bit about the Vikings, and he mentioned he'd been to some Washington Senators games (this team became the Minnesota Twins) and that he saw a young Harmon Killebrew play.

While the bus was being piloted by the capable Darren, Murphy regaled us with information about our surroundings, throwing in some Irish history and sprinkling his commentary with jokes and humorous asides.  He took delight in poking fun at the nationalities of the tour participants.  At one point in the tour, we were visiting a monastery with a tall stone tower, and he said something along the lines of "Hey, people from Italy.  THIS is how you build a proper tower" (referring, of course, to the leaning tower of Pisa).

Our first stop was at Richard Cullen's Sheep Farm in Laragh, County Wicklow.  As we stood waiting for all of the tour group to gather in front of farm owner Richie, I took an opportunity to watch a group of lambs in a small fenced area.  They were so darned cute!  One was making himself known with a steady stream of bleats, and a few of them were playing with each other.

After a brief introduction to the farm, Richie led us up a small slope to a covered structure that looked out onto a rocky field with four sheep.  He brought out Spot, a three-year-old border collie.  When I tell you that Spot was ready to herd those sheep, he was REALLY ready to herd those sheep.  He was nearly vibrating as he waited for Richie to give him the command to do his thing.  Richie used both verbal commands and whistled commands.  "Walk On" is used when you want the dog to slow down his approach a bit, and Spot had such a tough time with that one.  His instinct was to bolt after those sheep, and it was really hard for him to keep himself in check.  He really didn't enjoy the "Lie Down" command which, as the phrase suggests, told him to lie down and stop.

The first photo is when he was herding four sheep into a small pen right in front of us.  The second photo shows the penned sheep, along with a larger group he brought over from a pasture that was farther away.

For the second demonstration, he barely waited for Richie to raise the whistle to his lips, and he was off like a shot, darting through the pasture gate before Richie could even get it open.  There was a moment when the larger group split - I'm not sure if that were by design or if the sheep just weren't having it - but Spot got them back together and drove them closer to us.  In the second photo, you can see Spot lying pressed to the ground and I know everything inside him wanted to go nip at those sheep.

Farmers use different colors of paint and different markings for specific purposes.  You can see that these sheep have a blue C on them.  When the sheep are grazing on the mountainside with sheep from other farms, this helps keep track of whose sheep are whose.

After the demonstration, we had an opportunity to hold a week-old lamb.  There were twins penned up with their mother in the shelter, and people took turns holding the little ones.  I didn't participate, but here's Eli with one of these wooly twins.  It's hard to describe exactly how sheep wool feels.  I touched this little spud's head, and it was like pressing your fingers into a firm, nubbly washcloth.

Eventually during this activity, both mama and babies began to voice their displeasure.  The babies began bleating a bit more, and I could tell that mama was getting agitated.  When Richie put the lambs back into the pen with her, she made a low, short sound and gave them a good sniffing. 

Before we had reached the farm, Murphy said "You can take photos of the lambs, you can pet the lambs, you can hold the lambs - just don't steal the lambs."  I told Eli we had 10 empty seats on the bus so it stood to reason we'd have room to take 10 lambs, right?

Then it was back aboard the bus and off to Glendalough.  The Irish name is Gleann Dá Loch, meaning 'The Valley of the Two Lakes,' and there were indeed two lakes nestled into a valley.  But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

We first visited St. Kevin's monastery.  This is the gateway to the grounds, and they estimate that it was built in the early 12th century.  (Guy in the blue jacket is our tour guide, Murphy.)  Just inside the arch, there's a large stone inscribed with a cross which marked a point of sanctuary - violence could happen outside the arches but once you hit that stone with the cross, you were supposed to be safe.

The round tower was built around 1100, and it stands nearly 100 feet tall.  The cap of the tower was reconstructed in the 1800s but otherwise, the tower is original to the year it was built.  As you can see in the photo, this ground is also home to a cemetery.  It's an active gravesite, and there are present-day burials.  We didn't spend time looking at the markers (which I think would've been fascinating), but Murphy mentioned that many people lived into their 60s or 70s.

The Cathedral was built in phases between the 10th and 13th centuries.  There are numerous holes in the walls.  These are called "putlog holes," and they held pieces of timber that were used as scaffolding or as part of the structure.  Those pieces of lumber, as well as the wooden roof, deteriorated many years ago, leaving only the stone parts of the building.  Murphy said the Cathedral is still used for weddings.

I didn't get a photo of it, but there's a 10-foot-high stone Celtic cross called St. Kevin's Cross.  Legend has it that if you can embrace the cross from behind and have your fingers touch, you will have good fortune.  (Murphy said that if your fingers touched, you were holy - and if they didn't, you were a sinner.  Eli and I are both sinners but I'm sure that's no surprise to anyone who knows us.)

During a good portion of our tour, there was a helicopter making close passes along the treed mountainside and hovering around the area.  Murphy looked up and said, "Wonder if that's Elon Musk."  I can't remember for sure, but I think he may've called him President Musk.

Aside from the guided part of the tour, we didn't spend a lot of time in the monastery.  The trek to Upper Lake was going to take about about 20 minutes (40 minutes roundtrip), and we didn't have a lot of time before the bus would depart, so we headed for the lakes.

As you can surmise, we encountered Lower Lake first.  The slope down to the lakeside was a bit steep so I stayed on higher ground while Eli went down to touch the water.

We continued our walk, stopping every now and again to snap a photo.  I really wish I had a better camera because these photos pale in comparison to reality.  We may need to revisit during the spring/summer because I bet this place is even more breath-taking when everything is lush and green.

I was very excited because we saw some wild goats grazing up the hillside.  Eli took this photo, and I enlarged a section to show the goats more clearly.  In the upper left corner, there's a mama goat with a tiny baby!  None of them seemed particularly perturbed by our presence.  I'm sure they're probably used to humans rambling through their environment.

I took a couple of videos of smallish waterfalls we encountered, but this is my favorite.  Sound up to hear the water.

On we trekked, and the terrain began a gentle incline.  Well, it was gentle for people like Eli who are used to hiking around.  For out-of-shape me, it was like scaling Everest.  Just before we reached Upper Lake, we encountered some rapids.  Again, sound up to hear the water.  I probably could've just sat there all day, listening to the water.

We finally reached Upper Lake.  This photo doesn't do justice to the immense sense of grandiosity of a placid lake with views of mountains all around.

Eli again went down to the water's edge to dip his fingers in; I contented myself with standing at the lip of the water and watching some ducks paddling nearby.  As we walked back up to the path, we saw a drake and hen standing on a rock protruding from the shallows, and there was another drake on a different rocky area not far away.  I said to this drake, "Where's your hen?" Eli took the role of the drake and said, "I don't want to talk about her."

On the return trip, we didn't stop to take any more photos as we were pressed for time and afraid we'd be late for the bus.  As it turns out, we made it back just fine - but our departure was still delayed as one of the passengers had gotten lost somehow and was about 10 minutes late in returning.

Then it was off through the Wicklow Gap toward Kilkenny.  Our roads during the trip through the mountains were quite curvy and very, very narrow.  Our tour bus wasn't huge, by any means, but there were still times when we'd meet a larger vehicle coming from the opposite direction and need to slow down and veer to the left so we could pass without incident.  On the way down to County Wicklow, it wasn't as bad because we were in the lane closer to the hillside.  On the way back, however, we were in the lane closer to the edge of the hill/mountain, and there are no guardrails to speak of on these roads.  During both legs of the trip, my ears were popping as we either gained or lost elevation.

We passed through a small village called Hollywood and there, up on the hill, was a huge wooden HOLLYWOOD sign that mimicked the one in California.  Unfortunately, Ireland has had some bad windstorms recently, so the only letters still standing were H-O-L-L-W.

Once we reached Kilkenny, we had a chance to go with Murphy on a short tour.  However, it was 2 p.m. and breakfast had been 8-9 hours earlier, so Eli and I went in search of lunch.  Murphy had given some recommendations (based on passenger reviews) for places to eat, and we settled on The Fig Tree.  I didn't get a photo of the outside, but I grabbed this off the internet so you could see how hole-in-the-wall this place is.  The shops and stores in Kilkenny all were very narrow but tall - this restaurant had three stories.

Eli had the full Irish breakfast (vegetarian style) with tea; I had chicken goujons (tenders) with chips (fries) and Coke.  Because nothing says "Jill is in an unfamiliar restaurant" more than her getting chicken tenders and fries.

The food was served very quickly, and it was really good.  While we were eating, I could tell a couple of regulars came in because the servers didn't offer a menu, just mentioned a food item in the form of a question to ensure the person wanted their usual order.  After a trek up some steep stairs to the bathrooms on the third floor, we were fueled up and ready to explore.

Murphy had pointed out a stone tower as we got into town.  He said people could go up inside it and look out over Kilkenny.  Eli wanted to do that, whereas that wasn't my cup of tea (and my feet were bothering me), so I checked out a couple shops instead.  One sold a ton of Irish gifts - there were some really beautiful coffee mugs, prints, and shirts, along with some fun items (I should've gotten the magnet that said "Feckin' eedjit").  A sales clerk asked me if I needed help, and I said I was just browsing and that I was completely overwhelmed because there was so much to look at.

My main objective, however, was to visit this bookstore that we had passed on the way to lunch.  ("What did you do in Kilkenny, Jill?  Did you see some cool sites?"  "I went to the bookstore.")

I walked inside and just marveled at the wonderful sight of so many books and magazines.  There were signs inviting patrons to sit down and browse/read, and there was a stone tranquility fountain in the middle of the store.  I grabbed a couple of books (one is a book explaining/translating Irish place names so I'm excited to read that one), and as I was paying for my purchases, I told the clerk that I loved their store and she beamed.

Eli met up with me in the bookstore and before we headed back toward the bus, we went to Oh! Donuts to get a snack.  Eli got a cake donut that was covered in various forms of chocolate; I got a cinnamon-sugar donut.

I was tired and my feet were acting up, so I went back to the bus and sat on a bench while Eli took a detour up another side street.  We were parked right by Kilkenny Castle so I took a few photos.  There's a free tour, but we didn't have enough time to participate.

  

During the drive down, Murphy sang a song called "Molly Malone" and asked us to participate by singing the chorus.  On the way back, he sang a song called "The Wild Rover."  There's a place where we were supposed to give four claps but none of us did a very good job of it, and Murphy told us so.

Since we had folks from various places, he pulled up some songs from our home countries on his phone and played them over the bus speaker system, in case we were feeling homesick.  For the US, he played part of Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" and The Rembrandts' "I'll Be There for You" (aka the "Friends" theme song).  Eli and I both clapped loudly in the appropriate place during this song.  Murphy looked back at us and said something like, "Oh sure, NOW you clap in the right place."  For France, he played "Frere Jacques."  He played a song for Italy, but I didn't recognize it.  For Australia, he played Kylie Minogue's "I Should Be So Lucky" - I love that song, and it made me smile a bit because Lissa and I used to sing along together when we heard it.

Murphy and our driver Darren had a running joke with each other.  There was a drawing posted above the driver's seat showing them as stick figures.  Each time we got back on the bus, something had been added to the drawing.  By the time we got on the bus for our trip back to Dublin, Darren's stick figure was wearing a crown, a pink dress, and there was a word bubble that read "I'm a princess!"

We pulled back into Dublin around 6:30 p.m., truly worn out and ready to be home.  After a 40-minute tram ride, we walked back into the apartment.  Patrick was eager to tell us about his day - or he was cussing us out for being gone 12 hours, I'm not sure. Norris was eager to get petted, because he saw we were petting Patrick.  And I was eager to take my shoes off and melt into the couch.