Gaillimh
Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely hate flying. It sets my nerves on edge, my feet so far off the safety of the ground. I feel like at the end of it all, I’ve gotten in a good workout because my muscles are tired from remaining tense for however long I had to endure the confines of a tin can with wings.
However, despite being squeezed into a mere foot by foot space with about a half an inch of cushion between the hard plastic chair and my bottom, I found it to be a somewhat pleasant experience.
I met an older gentleman named Jeff, with the kindest disposition. He reminded me so much of my father, bright shining blue eyes that border lined unnatural, a large arching nose, and hair speckled gray and receding around its edges. He had talked all through take off, and landing, which are my trigger points for teeth-grinding rigor mortis, and not once did I feel like puking into the flimsy paper bag found between the menu and safety instructions of the back seat pocket. Yes that’s great, put the puke bag right in front of the instructions for over water evacuation, wonderful.
But Jeff had managed to transport me off the plane and into the colorful, vivid worlds of his childhood on the wide-open fields of his family farm. He narrated me through his life’s journey that had been overly kind to him, from traveling the world to his eventual occupation within the states as an engineer with Tesla. His current travels were taking him back to the family he left in Ireland. A family that included an adorable bundle of four kids that weren’t his by biology, but fulfilled every inch of his heart none-the-less, and a woman who had taught him how to be a better person, father, and had grounded him in a way he had never been before. She had come from an abusive relationship, a man who was stronger with his fist than his heart as Jeff had described. But despite being left alone to raise their four children, she had managed to support them. She taught them how to be respectful human beings, all the while finding her solace in the love of a man she never would have expected; who treated her kids with more compassion and revere than their father had.
All this, and I hadn’t even landed yet.
For someone who's never traveled outside of the states, not to mention being completely alone, Ireland has been nothing but hospitable and inviting to me. Granted, there’s no language barrier or confusing signs to navigate, but the beginning of this adventure has been extremely easygoing, with a revitalizing feeling that’s as refreshing as the crisp breeze that floats in off the Irish Sea.
Grabbing my stamp and luggage, I headed out to get on the bus that would transport me to the other side of the Emerald Isle. I was traveling from Dublin to Galway; pronounced GALway, like you're forcing the words down the throat of the person you're talking to, as per Jeff’s accent practice.
Jeff had also told me the story of Johnny Cash’s song, 40 Shades of Green. Cash had written it while flying over the land, utterly astounded that there could be so many shades of the same color; all found in the span of an island that was barely the size of the state of Indiana. I didn’t get to see it from the air because of the beautiful rolling gray clouds that shrouded our view, but I did get to see it from the ground, and it was breathtaking. Never ending waves of green, only broken up by the occasional forest or grazing livestock.
Reluctantly, the bus arrived at Galway, and rolling hills gave way to tight streets and alleyways that butted up against the canals of the Corrib River. Corrib House Tea Rooms & Guest House sat tucked up against the riverbank, next to the Salmon Weir Bridge, and offered views of the raging waters and silhouettes of the Galway Cathedral.
With original word work and settings, the house was well preserved and offered an experience unlike any other. Vintage tearooms, complimentary coffee and scones, and views of the riverside, complete with fisherman at their craft and flocks of swans, the inn was like something out of a fairytale.
After getting settled in, I headed out to experience the sunset that came highly recommended by Jeff; and seeing as to how the clouds had cleared, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to witness it. He described it as "unlike any setting you’d get in the states," that it was alive, rippling with energy and vibrancy. His word was far from disappointing.
I headed inland from the water, down Shop Street and The Quary. Abundant, store-lined streets speckled with bars and restaurants. Patrons spilled out of the doors, into the walkways, filling it with excited chatter and energy. People seemed more in want of the bustling streets than the interiors of their chosen brasseries, creating an atmosphere that reminded me nostalgically of my graduate days in Savannah, Georgia, where you weren’t confined to just one place to consume your beverages of choice.
Being a whiskey person, I had to make a stop and try something new before heading back to my Inn for the night. With only a short, one-evening stay in Galway before departing for my tour, I wanted to at least patron one bar before leaving. Blake’s, like the sunset, did not disappoint. In continuing with my hospitable greeting, the bartender graciously introduced me to a lovely barrel called Green Spot; not top-shelf, but still all new to me. It was a delicious suggestion, with just enough peat and burn to satisfy my growing palette.
My first day has left me in complete awe and excitement for the remaining week; of which I’m sure will continue to inspire and move me. Being alone, I was worried that I would feel vulnerable, or even worse, too scared to venture out on my own in fear of looking awkward or out of place. I’m so used to the crutch of company that I didn’t want it to hinder my experience. In one day, Ireland has renewed a sense of adventure and longing, and I find myself more confident and sure in my ability to create new experiences, even if I have to do them alone.
