I wrote a post recently about how my body and my soul – quite apart from my conscious brain – sometimes remind me where I was, and what I was doing, at this time four years ago when I was living in Oxford. (This happens occasionally with other experiences – every May I get nostalgic for the two weeks I once spent writing at Camp Blue Haven in the mountains of New Mexico, often before I’ve quite registered the date on the calendar.)
Each September, my thoughts turn briefly back to a weekend spent in Wales, with a fun-loving crew of American students. But then, a week or two later, they turn to a quiet few days spent in Ireland, with a boy who is my cousin in reality if not in name. (Our grandparents, and our dads, have been best friends for forty-odd years.)
Colton’s semester abroad in Galway coincided with the first semester of my year in Oxford, and I’d long wanted to visit the Emerald Isle, so I hopped on a plane in mid-September to spend a long weekend with him. (This trip confused my English housemates; one of them asked bluntly, “But – isn’t Ireland quite similar to Britain?”)
Maybe it is, but my experience of Ireland was perhaps different from most people’s. For one thing, I spent hardly any time in Dublin (a fact I’d like to remedy some day), and I didn’t really meet any Irish people – Colton and I kept mostly to ourselves. That first night, when I arrived tired from a flight bookended by two long bus rides, we ate spaghetti with salami and Parmesan, in the university apartment Colton shared with three other guys. And I’m no drinker, so I didn’t go to Ireland for the booze (though Colton let me try a sip of his Guinness, and his roommates urged me to try mead) – instead, I ordered a cup of tea at every pub we went to.
We spent one day simply walking around Galway, taking photos of red leaves and stone churches:
And later, we went on a long walk down by the river, where, as Colton said, the dryads live:
On our stroll down the River Corrib, we spotted a ruined castle on the opposite bank (Castle Menlo, though we didn’t know it then). “I really want to go over to the other side and find that castle,” Colton commented. We looked at each other, and ten seconds later we had turned around, heading across a bridge and down the other riverbank, determined to find the castle (which eventually proved to be in the middle of somebody’s cow pasture. Only in Ireland):
We climbed around on the ruin – there were, blessedly, no barriers blocking our way or signs telling us not to – and snapped pictures of the ivy-covered buildings and walls. Eventually, we sat in one of the windows and watched the sun setting over the river, not needing to talk much, just soaking in the beauty and the green leaves all around us and the mellow, golden sunset light.
Every September, when the winds turn crisp and the grass and trees seem to glow brilliantly green before they begin to turn yellow and red, and when I start craving Yorkshire or Earl Grey tea with milk in the mornings instead of summer fruit teas, I think back to that weekend in Ireland, and I remember the light glowing on the stones of the castle and the sun sparkling on the river, and the long, quiet walks and talks with a friend I’ve known literally all my life.
The second part of our trip took us to the Aran Islands, off the west coast of Ireland – but those deserve their own post, which I’ll share soon.
Brings back my own Ireland memories.http://harvestboston.wordpress.com/2010/03/03/surrounded-by-treasures/
Great to see you yesterday at The Brattle!
I dream of visiting Ireland at least once a day. Thank you for letting me swoon. Ireland is an absolute beauty!
The leaves! The photos of leaves and ivy in this post and your new banner are making me so happy.
Thank you…we are planning on visiting Ireland next summer.
I’m bookmarking this post. A trip to Ireland this year was put off until next, but I’m collecting good posts and recommendations in the meantime!
[…] I posted recently about my trip to Ireland four years ago, I promised you a post about the Aran Islands, those three tiny specks of land […]