I got my body CAFTAN ready.
Step 2: Wrap yourself in a giant, gauzy bathrobe. (Turban optional.)
Just keeding. I did just get back from the least-summery summer vacay, though. Packing for Ireland was a bit of an endeavor; I had to dig out my Texas-winter clothing to find things suitable for Irish-summer weather. As someone who loves cold weather and doesn't see nearly enough of it, that was just fine by me.
Mumsie & I chose to do a coach tour around the whole of Ireland because we really didn't want to rent our own car and drive on the wrong side of the road. That would only have ended with one or both of us crying in a ditch surrounded by sheep.
This tour was such a lesson in patience.
1: Old people everywhere. I knew that going into it, but seeing them in real life was totally different. I spoke with a man who had just turned ninety. NINETY. 9-0. He legitimately talked about World War II and the Great Depression. HE WAS ALREADY OLD WHEN I WAS BORN. Inconceivable.
2: The other travelers in our group were really confused when they found out that we're only the slightest bit Irish and we couldn't trace any of our relatives to a specific place in Ireland. As if the only reason to travel somewhere is to trace your lineage. #schmucks
3: Understandably, most of those Irish-ish folk were from the East Coast/Midwest. But I am unable to handle people from the East Coast, apparently. The group of middle aged sisters (I referred to them as the Weird Sisters in my head all week) laugh-wheezed like Marge's sisters from The Simpsons. And I was going to die if I had to hear the Midwesterners say the word "scone" one more time. It was adorable at first, but then no.
4: The lady assigned to the seat behind us whispered the whole time. She was traveling alone and we could never figure out if she was talking to us or herself. BECAUSE SHE WHISPERED EVERYTHING. Sometimes it would be reading signs aloud (in a whisper) or it would be telling us about her evening (in a whisper). ALWAYS IN A WHISPER. After the first couple of days, I learned to just play dead.
Mumsie & I chose to do a coach tour around the whole of Ireland because we really didn't want to rent our own car and drive on the wrong side of the road. That would only have ended with one or both of us crying in a ditch surrounded by sheep.
This was our itinerary. So much bus. So much green. So much sheeps.
Trinity College Library & my boy, Homer. I die.
This tour was such a lesson in patience.
1: Old people everywhere. I knew that going into it, but seeing them in real life was totally different. I spoke with a man who had just turned ninety. NINETY. 9-0. He legitimately talked about World War II and the Great Depression. HE WAS ALREADY OLD WHEN I WAS BORN. Inconceivable.
Glendalough, a medieval monastic settlement.
2: The other travelers in our group were really confused when they found out that we're only the slightest bit Irish and we couldn't trace any of our relatives to a specific place in Ireland. As if the only reason to travel somewhere is to trace your lineage. #schmucks
Blarney Castle, baby.
Sheep herding & the mistiest Cliffs of Moher you ever did see.
4: The lady assigned to the seat behind us whispered the whole time. She was traveling alone and we could never figure out if she was talking to us or herself. BECAUSE SHE WHISPERED EVERYTHING. Sometimes it would be reading signs aloud (in a whisper) or it would be telling us about her evening (in a whisper). ALWAYS IN A WHISPER. After the first couple of days, I learned to just play dead.
The Emerald Isle & Giant's Causeway.
But even with all the other (ugh) people, it was gorgeous and I am eternally grateful for parents willing to send me on fabulous trips. Especially since my life will be over for three years, come August. :|
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