...Into Ireland

Mutton Light, last seen by those fleeing the Great Famine

My sadness at saying my last goodbyes, and anxiety about setting out into this by myself was immediately tempered by receiving my first acts of unsolicited kindness, and first hellos.  And all before my plane left the ground.

Josie, short for Josephine she quickly informed me, was the lovely 73 year old sitting across the aisle.  The aisle of the otherwise entirely empty 5th row, which both she and I had been bumped into at no charge.  Josie shared with me about her 6 children, 4 of whom now live in Philly, while the others stay with her back in Galway City.  She shared about her husband Pete, who died suddenly and recently.  She told me stories (repeatedly, she was mildly perseverative, that Josie) about how badly damaged her shoulder was when someone's luggage fell on her during one of these Atlantic flights.  At least I think this is what she told me, as I understood only about 60% of what she said through her thick brogue.  She was wholly delightful, and I realized a bit into our trip, a bit of a lush.

Found the Fairies

When we arrived, I helped her collect her luggage with her bum shoulder, and she helped me take my first steps into for-reals Ireland.  Immediately upon meeting him,  her son Jimmy insisted on driving me all the way to Galway.  Jimmy reminded me of a slightly more handsome Colin Quinn.  He was grouchy, but his eyes were twinkly and kind, and I felt safe.  Kind of like my dear friend Brady.  There was to be no fuss, nor refuting his offer.  We headed out into the rainy countryside, where he and Josie bantered back and forth, as she clearly drove him a little (lot) crazy.  He even called her "Josie" when he was annoyed, which seemed to be approximately all the time.  Jimmy dropped me at the doorway of my destination, and set me off with his phone number, strict instructions to call him if I needed a ride anywhere (at no cost, he continued to insist), and a kiss on the cheek.  Such perfect, generous provision, and assurance that I am not doing this alone.

Galway Promenade

Since I've arrived, I've slowly come up from under the haze of jet lag, and logged miles and miles of coastline, both by foot and by bike.  I've had Guinness in Irish pubs, which really does taste significantly better here, and befriended the sweet little family I'm staying with.  My initial impressions are of the dichotomy between the untamed, wild coastline, and the seeming calm, patient, hospitable people.  They don't seem to feel at all entitled to space or time, which is a real refreshment from my years in the city.  Nobody even tried to run me over on my bike, which was also, quite refreshing.  They don't seem to be waiting for an excuse to curse each other out or wave fists from their cars.  I've been called love, darling, young lady, and lass without any nuance of creepiness.  Tomorrow I head farther south, to stay in a village under the cliffs.  I could get used to this, for sure.