... To A Whirlwind Goodbye

Glendalough

I've spent my last few days in this country at the mercy of some serious neurotransmitter action.  I arrived Friday afternoon to spend the following 24 hours on the back of a motorcycle receiving a personalized tour of what I'm sure was half of the eastern seaboard.  We covered the mountains of Wicklow, Glendalough, the entirety of both Dublin city and county, and even a hidden BMX park.  It was invigorating, and beautiful, and wholly terrifying.  

My last full day was spent at the GAA All Ireland hurling semi final, a gift from my newly found cousin Lisa.  The winner of Tipperary (GO TIPP!) vs. Galway would determine the team to play for the title.  Between my nationality and my ambivalence about professional sporting events, I knew I didn't deserve to be there, but was excited nonetheless.  Little did I know however, how much this particular 70 minutes would convince me of the power of being a sport spectator... I stand corrected!  Hurling is tremendously quick, leaving no room for even a 5 minute loo break.  Multiple generations come from all over the country to cheer their respective team to victory.  Parents pass out picnic lunches and run downstairs for tea during halftime, as everyone's far too interested in the game to be pounding beers.

Croke Park, Dublin

The game was a nail biter, literally.  What paltry fingernails I had remaining were ceremoniously ripped off, almost without my knowing.  Stress!!  Most unfortunately for those of us supporting Tipp, our rivals scored the winning point in the last 8 seconds of the game.  The last 8 seconds of the game.  There was plenty of heartbreak and even some tears, as our rivals attempted to comfort with hugs and handshakes.  It was for me, the perfect ending to this most magical of trips.  To participate in the hard-earned solidarity of nearly 59,000 proud Irish was an experience I won't soon forget.

I'll Be Seeing You

I do not feel ready to say goodbye, but I know it’s time.  Ireland for me has been many things, not the least of which is the kindness, hospitality, and humor of the people.  I am filing away some of my most favorite people and adventures, so that I can return anytime I like in my heart.  That is of course, until I return fo' reals, with some siblings in tow (Seriously Damian, we promise Donegal!!)  So I move forward, a backpack full of James Joyce, a belly full of Irish cheese and relish, and a heart full of knowing that you can in fact, go home again.  It was, as they say here, a grand craic.