Last month, I visited Ireland. It was a bucket list item, definitely one of the coolest places I’ve ever been.
Enchanting is a word I’d use to describe it. There’s something about the skies, the pastoral fields and pastures…sheep, cows, and green hedgerows everywhere. The smells, the sweetness of the air that’s unlike anywhere I’ve ever been.
Magical is another, with all its beliefs about fairies and luck and superstitions; all these little springs and brooks…quiet little places…ruins of castles everywhere and the restless spirits of ancient warriors behind every tree.
And I learned that the line separating myth from truth blurs a bit in Ireland.
We visited the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland and I took three little rocks as souvenirs. That night in a pub, a local told me what bad luck it caused, taking home a bit of Ireland. I guess I looked skeptical. “Ah’m not jokin’,” he intoned gravely. “I’ve heard t’ stories. T’ere’s all koinds a t’ings can happen… “
The next day, we had an excursion to Blarney Castle. While the bus was loading, I asked the driver about bringing home stuff and he agreed with the local. “Oy’m not kidding. We’ve had people mail us stuff back, asked us to put it back.”
On our first rest stop, Sue got coffee, boiling hot. Some spilled on her leg and she got a burn.
Our next stop were the ruins of a cathedral. We thought the departure time was 11:45; it was really 11:30. We go back to the parking lot, no bus. Oh, great…my backpack with all my stuff gone. We’re all alone in the parking lot with the birds and the sighing wind.
The nearest town is about an hour walk in the hot sun. We get there only to find out we had just missed the bus back to Dublin. We waited 90 minutes for the next one. The A/C is busted, and behind us are two drunk guys, yammering all the way back.
Back at the hotel, suddenly there’s no cell or Wi-Fi service.
I met the bus at 8:00 pm in downtown Dublin to retrieve my backpack. The bus pulls up with a hiss of brakes and the door opens. The driver does a double take, then says “Oh, it’s you! Come up here.” I step up in the bus and he says on the intercom “Well, look, everybody! It’s our missing friend!” Everybody stares. He says “We looked all o’er for ya! Couldn’t foind ya anywhere! Ain’t t’at roight, folks?” Everybody nods and grins.
After everybody left, I handed him a little bag with the rocks and ten euros. “Look,” I said. “Next time you’re up at Giant’s Causeway, could you please put these back?” I outlined my day; he nodded knowingly, his expression a mixture of amusement and sympathy.
Next time, I’ll just take a picture of a rock.
My little corner of the world 