Cobh

Here's a bit of old writing I did in Ireland, in Cork when I couldn't get my camera working. Hope you like it, but if you don't (or if you do!) totally comment with any advice or criticism you have!

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I took the train station down the hill from my hostel, and right away things started changing. Right away there were signs of the sea, and a different sort of sea than I was used to. Instead of white sand stranded in the middle of the road or long, pale beach grass swaying by the curb, it looked like the land itself might have once been part of the ocean floor. There were brown sandbars stretched out on either side of the train, all of it reminiscent of a wave. They were made up of eternal ripples, glistening under a sheen of millimeter deep saltwater, etched with thin, deep tide pool streams, curving and rippling this way and that like a brown snake. Or a wave. Even the sea-foam green railings of the bridge we passed over rolled up and down. And then I got to Cobh and it was obvious that the little town, too, was a wave.

The roads, the couple there were, winded gently, and the buildings followed. The houses and pubs and shops traveled in connected, multicolored rows: sky blue, goldenrod, white, salmon, peach, cream, black, brick red, turquoise. They formed the streets, and went up and down, back and forth in little fluttering hills, sometimes even nearly going through each other, like they themselves were made of water.

I went up and down the hill-waves, breathing in the salt and wind and sun and rocks until I got to these dunes that were made out of earth and short grass instead of sand. On one side of the dunes was a make shift door made from tin or some sort of rusty metal, and I thought, here you can live inside the beach.

Why I need go back to Galway. (And the rest of the West!)

Okay, so I know that I haven't even finished writing about Cork yet, but I just got back from Western Ireland and I really wanna talk about it. Need to talk about it.

Because it was amazing.

It was beautiful in so many different ways, and I had one of the best nights there that I've had in Ireland so far. (Um, my roommate Ashley and I ran around downtown and talked to random people. Except we weren't ourselves. She was Megan Kelly from New York, and I was Sarah Nilap from Alaska. Shush. It was fun. We made up this huge back story, too. You probably had to be there.) I think Galway's my favorite city ever, pretty much. (Basically, if I had to describe all of the Irish cities I've been to really, really quickly, it'd be like this: Dublin: busy-indefinable, Belfast: quiet-friendly, Cork: crunchy-mellow, Galway: jovial.) But Galway's the last place we went to, so more on it later!

Our first stop was a fairy ring in County Clare.

You aren't technically supposed to go in the middle of fairy rings-- it's supposed to be wicked bad luck-- but we all did, anyway. Apparently, actual Irish people won't even go inside them, though that might just have been something they told us to make the ring more exciting.

Take that, fairies.

We didn't stay long, but it was fun. The only thing missing was a bit of fairy sighting.

We went to the Burren, next. It's a region in Count Clare that's, well, barren. It's nearly all scraggly, grey rock. You can walk on it for ages.

I sort of fell in love with it. It's just so different from anything you would expect to see in Ireland. I mean, everyone (hopefully) knows that Ireland isn't just one huge green field, but I wasn't expecting this desolate expanse of stony hills and flatlands. But it was gorgeous. I don't even know how to describe how atmospheric and beautiful and just different it was, but it really was all of those things. We were only there about a half hour, but for most of the time, I just sat and watched the world. It was incredible how quiet everything was. I mean, technically, it wasn't. There were lots of people around, and they talked and laughed and did all sorts of other normal people stuff, but in this place, all of that seemed muted, and the slight wind took precedent over their noises.

I thought it was fantastic how there could be these long stretches of stone, and then, suddenly, there'd be all green grass again, like nothing had ever happened.

Oh, and there was an ancient tomb, too!

It was pretty chill.

So were the Cliffs of Moher. As an Irish person would say, they were grand.

Western Ireland is supposed to get twice as much rain as the east, but half of the time we were there, it was hard to block out the sunlight. It was like that at the Cliffs, and they really looked magical.

See those orange specks of people? Coast Guard. Not completely sure what they were doing, but none of us fell off (because of the fairy ring, you know), so it wasn't that!

The next day, Saturday, we went to Inisheer, the smallest of the Aran Islands, and I really fell in love.

Inisheer is way in the distance. You can't completely see it, but it's there!

We took the ferry, which was fantastic. I love being on boats, really love it. I love the waves and the smell and just everything about it. But once we saw Inisheer, even I was stoked to get off it and start exploring.

I only have a few pictures from Inisheer, which totally guts me. They hardly even begin to capture the astounding beauty of the island, and they're all from the first ten minutes after docking. Inisheer's small, but not that small. But my camera was acting up and there was nothing I could do about it.

Things I have pictures of:

A house with a thatched roof.

A lonely red cart and the ocean.

A Road.

The start of the masses of stone walls, and frolicking.

Things I don't have a picture of:

The friendly cow that came to us when we called it. The rest of the stone walls that cover the island unrelentingly, rolling up and down over hills, and everywhere else. The castle I climbed on, and then got stuck on. (It was terrifying.) The grave yard with the 10th century old church underneath. The shipwreck. The pub we had lunch at. The yellow fields of dandelions. The two island dogs that followed us everywhere, alternately begging for attention and happily chasing one another, again and again. The craic.

At least, once we got to Galway, my camera was working again. Well, for a while.

I adored Galway. It was the most cheerful place I've ever been to, I'm pretty sure. We got there at around 5 in the afternoon, and straight away, half of everyone on the street was drunk. Cheerful drunk. We're-all-one-big-family drunk. It was fun.

It was happy. It got to the point that we (my two roommates and me, this time) would just walk down the streets, across the rivers, laughing at nothing but the fact that we were laughing. Being in Galway that first evening actually sort of felt like being drunk, but without having to put down money for alcohol.

It was sort of wonderful. (Especially since I'm pretty broke.)

And beautiful. Seriously, Galway is a gorgeous city-- maybe the most colorful one I've ever been to. The stores and cafes were all popping with color.

Check out the doors!

There was art everywhere.

The graffiti was awesome.

I found boats!

And there was a farmer's market. (I got a Cloddagh Ring!)

Even Galway's paintings are bright!

But in the end, this sign described Galway best:

My one disappointment? I didn't get to hear Galway Girl played in Galway!

Next time!

The Garda Won't Let Blarney Castle Keep Their Weed

Or, Cork part 2!

My second day at Cork started fantastically; my camera fell off my bunk bed. Yay! I was stoked, obviously.

Actually, though, I wasn't too worried, because my camera was at least still working. I mean, the little door thing covering the place you put the batteries in (I'm wicked technical, yo) wouldn't completely close, but as long as I held it shut, it would still take pictures. Then, it stopped and I was completely and utterly devastated. But I'll get to that later.

(I swear, though, I could write an entire blog about nothing but technology hating me. In the past month, I've had my laptop break, my camera break, my favorite coat ever got stolen-- which totally counts; coats were technology once! I bet if a cave man saw my coat, he'd be wicked impressed!-- and today, my iPod broke. But then it.. unbroke, so that wasn't too bad. Technically. Anyway, I basically have a black thumb, but with technology instead of gardening. Everything I touch falls apart. Except for phones, for some reason. Watch, though-- I probably just jinxed myself.)

Anyway, the day before, I was told that I absolutely had to go to Blarney Castle, no excuses. So I did. I mean, my schedule was completely open. Completely. Honestly, when I chose to go to Cork, I chose it on the basis that everyone said it was really pretty. No other reason. Nothing else. So, I was just basically going to go where everyone said was cool. So, I did.

And, oh my God, I don't regret it at all.

Blarney Castle was amazing. And the grounds were beautiful beyond words. I'll let the pictures do the talking.

Okay, I lied. Still talking. BUT LOOK HOW PRETTY THE CASTLE IS.

And, oh, look, there are trees! Finally, finally trees! (It's impossible to say how much I've missed frolicking around in the woods!) And it's sunny! Crazy, ridiculously sunny! And the grass is GREEN! Ahhhh I love nature!!

And then, I got closer to the castle. And it was awesome. Just as awesome as Dunluce Castle in Northern Ireland. Different, though; it goes up instead of spreading across the land.

It was all so gorgeous, and I was so excited to take a million pictures. I was so excited to post them all on facebook, too. But, oh, the drama, it was not to be. I got to take two more pictures, and then my camera died. I could have cried.

The last picture I got to take before my camera died. FOREVER. Or three days. But, it felt like FOREVER. It was legit awful, guys.

I managed to still have fun, though. (So much fun.) I played around on the castle. And then I nearly died climbing up it. It's kind of pathetic, probably, but I absolutely hate climbing up spiral staircases. They terrify me. And to get to the top of the castle, you have to climb up approximately one million of them. And they're all completely made of stone. Ancient stone, partially weathered away by centuries and centuries of feet. And that made them slippery. Oh, and they were steep. And I'm short. (Especially in Ireland. Oh my God. Land of leprechauns? Yeah, um, no. Giants, more like.) Oh, and, also, to climb them, you have to cling on desperately to a rope.

It was sort of petrifying.

I had the most fun once I got out of the castle and got to see more of the grounds. These grounds were about eight million, give or take a couple, times as beautiful as the ones in the beginning. And I have no pictures of them.

Sad face.

Anyway, the first thing I did when I got out of the castle (besides buy batteries, in the desperate hope that that was all my camera needed. It didn't work, and I was sad) was go to the poison garden. It was awesome. It was something I would have adored back when I was a little kid and liked to make magic potions with leaves and dirt and stuff. Though-- who am I kidding-- part of me (most of me) would still totally love doing that. And the poison garden was still wicked fantastic.

The best part, though, was the fact that they used to have a marijuana plant growing there. But, the Garda-- the Irish police-- confiscated it. No lie. There was even a notification-- it made me laugh, so I made sure to write it down-- saying, "We apologize for the absence of this plant. It has been seized by the Garda."

I KNOW RIGHT.

Northern Ireland!!

I'm pretty sure that Northern Ireland is the most beautiful place I've even been to, and that's saying a lot. It was so incredibly amazingly lovely that, on the bus ride home, I was actually disappointed that we were going back to Dublin. Really.

We went to Belfast first. In some ways, Belfast seemed more city like than Dublin-- its buildings were higher, at least-- but there were less people around, and the people who were there, seemed friendlier. They smiled more, and seemed happier to see the people around them. Even with their murals and memorials and Peace Wall, it didn't really feel like like a city that had been paralyzed by what was basically civil war just decades earlier. I think that might just have been me, though. I still have a hard time imagining that something like that could have happened to such a developed country not that long ago. I mean, I was alive during some of it! Not that I had any idea of it, I was only a kid. But, I'd never even heard of The Troubles until college! I signed the Peace Wall, anyway. Because peace is awesome.

Then, I took pictures of things that made me smile.

There were a lot.

But, when we got out to the country? That was my favorite. I'm not used to living in cities, and I've missed nature desperately. As we drove north, it was just so exciting, because there were trees! I adore trees, and Dublin just doesn't have enough. We drove for a while, and didn't stop until we got to Ballintoy, at the tip of Northern Ireland.

It was beautiful. So beautiful. It was already starting to get dark but, as soon as we got out things into the hostel, and few friends and I set out to explore.

We found a playground! Complete with a creepy bear trashcan. One of the things that I don't understand about Ireland is how you never see college kids on playgrounds. Actually, you don't really see many people on them at all. It's kind of sad. We played the hell out of that playground, though. It needed it.

The next day was a mix of sheep, running around rocks and ruins and climbing everything in sight. We almost died a couple of times.

Like when we went on the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge.

And stood on cliffs.

And ran around the Giant's Causeway like crazy people.

And climbed on things we weren't supposed to. Like castles.

It was magical.

Someday, I'm going back.

Lightning Bugs

I don’t know if you remember but
once we went dancing
in your bumpy green front yard
and laughed at all the passing cars.
They were in such a hurry
and the warm swirling air
couldn’t hold their burning metal as closely as it did us.

We didn’t stop brightlight spinning until the sun
became the moon
even though we knew that the moon was just as beautiful.
Next time, we said, and under it whispered
secret silences
and questions we knew could only be true.

The grass tickled our faces
and the moon had never shown so bright.
We took its glow as a promise
that life might stand still, just for a few more years.
It didn’t, but that night
we watched the white moths flutter in slow motion
and were sure our hearts stopped beating.

I don’t want to add you to my list
of all I’ve lost.
If I could,
I would race for a plane so I could paint the sky
a fluorescent pink lightning cloud sunset,
all so that I could run back to your house and point,
say, “look. The moon’s almost out.
Let’s go dancing.”

Casper Shaggs the Friendly Horse

This is Casper Shaggs. We went hiking, and he ate my sandwich.

I'd post more, but I'm really, really tired. Not because of the hiking, though. That would be really pathetic, since that happened a week ago. I'm tired just because I'm tired. I know; this is totes a ravishingly interesting blog entry. But the horse is pretty nifty.

What Life Can Be Like

I think I could spend my whole life exploring. Just wandering everywhere. Over hills, on top towering cliffs, by the sea. I want to breathe in the air of every different continent, and as many countries as I can get to. I want to go to the remote parts, especially. And I want to meet people. Those people who live everywhere I don't, and who have the stories I've never even thought to imagine. I want to turn my life into something it just isn't-- at least, not yet. The sort of life that only seems possible in day dreams.

A couple of my friends and I are planning on leaving Dublin sometime on Friday and not coming back until Saturday morning. Because we don't have too much money, we're not planning on staying a hostel or anything like that. We're not planning on sleeping-- we can sleep when we get back home the next day. We're just going to walk around in the pitch-blackness with food in our backpacks and flashlights, and explore. I'm stoked, because that's really what I want my life to be like. (Well, that and I want to live in a castle. A wicked old one that's partially in ruins. With lots of towers. And leprechauns. You know.)

Anyway, I don't really know how many other people usually go about traipsing around the Irish countryside past dark, but I'm guessing there can't be too many, even on Friday nights. Too bad, because I think that would be one of the most perfect ways to meet someone. Provided they're not some sort of ax murderer. Luckily, I don't think that's too likely. And even if it was, I'm totally, definitely big enough to kick anyone's ass, right? Seriously, though, if we met someone out there, and then actually got to know them, I think my life just might become complete.

But even if that doesn't happen I don't think I'll mind too much, anyway, because what could be more carefree? What could be more wonderful? I can't think of much.

Bits of Home in Ireland

Ireland is fantastic. What else could Ireland be? It's Ireland. And now that I've said the word Ireland three (four) times, I should probably stop. But, I can't get over how familiar and same parts of this country feel. I don't mean that in the boring way. I mean, everywhere I go, I see buildings, bits of scenery, and just things that seem like they're from somewhere else. A lot of the time, it's like they're from the homes I left behind me. The mountains make me think of Vermont. The graffiti reminds me of Burlington. The twistiness of the roads are kind of like Boston. There's this one tiny, tenement looking building that seems like it was shot out of Hey, Arnold! There's Ben and Jerry's.

And, when we went to Howth, a little sea side village north of Dublin, everything was different and the same all over again.

What's beyond this gate could be Cape Cod.

This rocky beach could be Little Compton, Rhode Island. And that old man? He'd be from some really sad, period piece about coastal New England.

Other parts looked like South America, or, at least, somewhere hot. There were palm trees. Lots of them. I didn't take any good pictures of them, though, so here are some flowers. Blooming in the middle of January.

But then, there were spots that couldn't be from anywhere else but Ireland. I loved those the best.

Really, I love it all. Even the weird palm trees.