Galway, Ireland

Oh goodness, writing a poem made me feel so much better. I haven’t been able to write much this month – I think the last poem I wrote was at the beginning of this trip, near a month ago. I love how the writing of a poem can mean such closure for me – as though I can close a door after putting my pain into prose.

Tonight we are in Galway, where we just returned from a pub-hopping four hours where we attempted to find live music. We succeeded in finding it, but along with it came pubs so crowded we could not move, and plenty of sketchy men. It made me wonder whether Lisdoonvarna was really any worse than any other pub on a Saturday night. However, the music we did find was wonderful, with a fiddle, guitar, and accordion, so that made the evening much more complete. That, along with the delicious crepe I had prior to the pubs.

Tomorrow, we head to Limerick, where we spend our last two nights of the trip. Here’s hoping they go well and we end the trip on a high note. I’m not looking forward to figuring out the airport, since Kara leaves at seven in the morning, and I leave at one in the afternoon, and five hours extra in an airport does not sit well with me. I might just have to cough up the extra dough for a taxi, methinks.

There is no doubt in my mind I will be returning here, to Ireland. I just need to remind myself of that. It will make the departure from this beautiful place a bit more bearable.

There’s just such magic here. However, I need to remind myself that the magic is everywhere – it’s merely a matter of living moments as they arrive, and entering the flow of the world around us. I know half my reader’s brains shut off when I start getting all metaphysical and such, but I’m only relaying concepts I believe to be true, and which mean very much to me. Life, and the landscapes within it, has a natural and beautiful flow.

When we enter into the rhythm of the earth’s heartbeat, magical things happen.

It just seems that in Ireland, magical things happen all the time. ☺

London, England: a swashbuckling good time

Kara and I landed in Heathrow airport this morning and met up around 9 AM. Sadly, I was without a bag, since they forgot to transfer the bags along with the passengers. However, it was only sitting in Dublin about an hour away, so we were only held up a couple hours. We traveled on the Tube easily, and reached our hostel, The Dover Castle, just in time to pass out. After napping for a couple hours, we showered and headed out to town – headed over to the Picadilly area, purchased tickets for a show, and got fish and chips at a pub. So far, we were managing to be very British (which partly made up for the breakfast we had at the French restaurant!).

Honestly, it is quite a trip to hear everyone speaking with the British accent. It’s one thing to hear the occasional person back home, or to watch an English movie, but to have everyone walking around with a British accent is a whole new bag of beans. I feel almost… foreign, even though we speak the same language. I’m like an alien trying to speak whenever I say something. And I can’t quite figure out what they think of me when I do speak – I’m sure people everywhere have very mixed feelings about Americans right now.

Our evening was filled with SWASHBUCKLING fun, since the play we decided to see was Zorro: The Musical. I could barely believe it when Kara said she was cool with seeing it, but we figure why not – let’s be ridiculous. And it was definitely ridiculous. The acting wasn’t incredible, but it was certainly entertaining, and had some really artistic/intense moments that made up for the… less than “artistic” ones. Plus, I managed to use the word “swashbuckling” at least 20 times today, so I honestly think it was a day well lived.