Galway

To follow the tradition of saving the best for last, one of the last things I did in Ireland was also one of my very favorite. But that’s probably because it was actually a number of things stretching over the span of 2 days, and I’m a cheater.

Our weekend long coastal road trip started with surfing in Bundoran, something that I would have been excited about regardless of how the rest of the weekend went, even though I’m not sure I can honestly call what I did “surfing”. However, sitting in the Atlantic Ocean, freezing as it was, and looking out at the seascape skyline, the noises of life drowned out by the roaring salty wind, was not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon.

After chowder and brown bread in a little restaurant overlooking the ocean, our group squeezed into a tiny sports car to spend the rest of the day driving to Galway, getting there just in time to get rooms at a hostel and see the nightlife. That night was a wonderful whirlwind of emotions and expressions, all of us so excited to be right where we were but also so aware of how soon it would all end, and reality would set back in. This was the night I first tried what is now my drink of choice (Jameson and ginger ale, or a “Jammie and Ginger” as I was told to order it) and the night I think of every time I order it at home.

The next day we had a picnic lunch of Subway sandwiches that were suspiciously better than any American Subway sandwich, and then leisurely headed back through the country. We had no time frame, no schedule, and nothing we needed to do, so if anything caught our fancy during the long drive we would stop and explore. That’s how we wound up wandering through cow pastures and exploring abandoned farm houses. We walked through towns small enough that the woman working the front desk at one Bed and Breakfast knew the chef at the hostel a few miles down the road, and if you happened to be asking her where you can find a pizza, not only will she tell you which direction to walk in, but she’ll also tell you to tell the chef “hi”. We stopped in roadside stores and antique shops, a gift shop where I found a charm bracelet that I still wear every day, and tiny towns where the people were so nice I got spoiled by their kindness.

The day lasted long, the sun never seeming to move no matter how far we traveled, as if the sky just wanted to let us see one more thing each mile we passed.

Included in our pit stops were the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher. I’m fully convinced I’ll never see a piece of nature as astounding as the wonders in Ireland. The Burren is a large limestone flat, so untouched that it didn’t feel real to me. This massive spread of silent rocks seemed like it stretched on forever and made me feel both incredibly small and significant all at the same time.

Looking out over the Cliffs of Moher felt like looking at the edge of the Earth, the rocks jutting out and dropping off far below you, with nothing but water surrounding it. Because of this impromptu road trip, I can now say that I’ve watched the sun set into the Atlantic Ocean while sitting on the edge of a 702 ft. cliff, and I think that’s pretty neat.

Everything I did in Ireland stands out in my memory, and probably always will, but this weekend in particular stands out and plays like an old movie reel in my head from time to time. Those last few days were so different from my daily life and so exactly what I always wanted traveling to be. Aimlessly wandering, stumbling upon sights, and falling into accidental adventures, making memories with people in the most natural way. My time in Ireland almost feels like a dream.

And, even though I could talk about my month abroad forever (and I’m sure my friends will attest to that), this will conclude my post series and brief foray into travel writing. I’ll will now resume my regularly scheduled bitching and overzealous comparison making as I continue to try and describe my daily life*.

I didn’t mean to write this last post on St. Patrick’s Day (even though that’s not when I’m publishing it) but, much like the rest of my mini-miracle trip, sometimes the things we don’t plan end up being the most poignant. I’m still unable to fathom how I actually experienced it all, but so inexplicably happy that I did.

Slán abhaile!

*Don’t worry, as soon as I figure out what the hell that is, you’ll be the first to know. I know you were worried.