The Aftermath of Being Born a Traveling (Wo)Man

It's been almost two months since my trip to Ireland.  While I have tried diligently to make sense of my thoughts and hasty notebook scribblings about my visit, I am finding them hard to articulate.  Part of the challenge probably stems from what I had hoped to accomplish with my trip.  For me, this vacation was much more than just crossing another country off my bucket list.  This trip was to be my first with someone other than a spouse or family member (at least for more than a couple days).  I had hoped it would bring me some clarity and focus about what I wanted to do with my life.  Maybe I would meet the man of my dreams.  Maybe I would find a job.  Maybe I would simply eat my way through the country.

Well, at least the last one happened (Mmmmmm, parsley sauce.  I could seriously bathe in that stuff.).

After returning to U.S. soil, I've had many people ask me how I liked my trip.  For the first few days, I could only vaguely respond, "The country was beautiful."  I didn't really know what to say other than that.  Of course I enjoyed the trip, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of malaise upon my return.  I wasn't invigorated or focused.  If anything, I returned feeling exhausted and maybe even disappointed.   After so much planning, I didn't have anything to look forward to any more...And to be honest, as a person who often needs "alone time" to recharge, traveling with someone for almost two weeks straight was difficult.  Not only were we two different types of travelers (I am a see-everything-while-I-can kind of gal), I am just not used to spending 24/7 with anyone, not even my daughter.  As much as I hate to be alone, sometimes I hate NOT being alone even more--something my travel partner realized in the final leg of our journey when I finally snapped in a glorious explosion of crankiness on par with some of my best PMS moments.  

In spite of wanting some alone time, however, I just wasn't ready to go back to "real life".  There was no exciting love or work life waiting for me.  I've felt creatively and emotionally stagnant for a while.  I needed this trip to help feed my soul.  Instead, in coming back, I just felt hungry for more.   

As in both Scotland and England, I felt at home in Ireland.  The people really are very warm and welcoming, especially on the west coast, where curvy American girls are treated like a breath of fresh air.

In Galway, we stayed at a bed and breakfast (which was actually a home) where the owner invited us to chat with her in the kitchen while we ate, something which made us feel instantly like one of the family.  Her husband drove us into the downtown area--after picking up his 30-year-old, super-cool daughter so he could drop her off to hang out with her friends.  While downtown, we were given a personal tour of the local theater, just because we walked in and expressed interest in their programming.  My travel companion (educated as a mortician) was also given a tour of the embalming facility at the local funeral home (I waited outside).  A local bookseller spent half an hour sharing all of her favorite Irish kids' books when I asked what I should purchase for my daughter that she'd like.

The Irish people were not all sweetness and light, however.  In both Galway and Kilkenny, we caroused, drank and danced in the local pubs where we discovered that sometimes the Irish (and visiting Manchester) boys are quite forward, something I certainly wasn't expecting and my travel companion thoroughly relished.  The boys (and some of the girls) seemed to appreciate our sass and, ahem, other assets.  

And yes, everything really is that green in Ireland--mostly because nothing ever freakin' dries there.  We happened to travel during a pretty rainy week.  Even though the rains weren't by any means a deluge, we were wet enough that our clothes were damp for days.  I had some pants that I don't think dried until we got to Dublin five days later (when I was able to lay them over a heater).  The weather, while responsible for the fabulous rolling green hills, also did nothing to help alleviate the cough I developed.  We nicknamed it "the Irish Croup".

Then there was the driving.  Sure, the countryside was stunning, but I couldn't really observe it at my leisure.  We had chosen to rent a car to travel around Ireland.  My travel companion (who self-admittedly is a nervous driver) opted to be the navigator and passenger, leaving me to drive not only on the "wrong" side of the road, but amidst the crazy, bat-out-of-hell drivers that are the Irish.  Lovely, calm and personable people in life, yes.  On the roads, no!  With no shoulders on the narrow roads, somewhat high speeds and limited signage, I have never been so frazzled by driving in my life--and I grew up in Southern California.

The food in Ireland was pretty crazy as well.  Crazy good that is!  Filled with notions that it would be all potatoes and cabbage, we were quite pleasantly surprised by the variety and quality of food.  Apparently there has been quite the movement toward "foodie" gourmet or new twists on old favorites.  Everything we ate was really good or even exceptional (even the night we gorged on junk food in Blarney)!

Speaking of Blarney...kissing the Blarney Stone is SCARY.  Anyone who kisses the stone is lowered down headfirst and backwards through an opening in the castle tower.  Although there was someone holding me (and a grate to keep me from plummeting through the opening), I was very nearly in a panic.  Vertigo and heights are not good companions, but I faced my fear and did it.  Whew.   Oh, and Blarney is not (contrary to what we had originally thought) a tourist trap.  It was just a lovely little town which happens to have a famous castle in the middle of it--something which is pretty indicative of the country's wonderful ability to maintain culture and heritage while embracing the tourist trade.  A spontaneous decision to visit Blarney "if possible" turned into an awesome two-night stay.  It was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.

So when asked how my trip was, I guess I should respond, "I already want to go back."  After all, I never did meet my lovely Irish lad.   I am sure a fabulous life awaits me in Ireland.

Damn you, Nora Roberts.