Galway, Ireland & Northern Ireland

I made the small mistake of writing about Ireland while I was in Dublin, before finishing my experience of it! I don't plan to do that again. It's a terrible mistake for anyone to make generalizations based on an experience. I intend only to share my experiences from a firsthand opinion, not for my opinion or experience to be generalized and made into your opinion. Generalizations get in the way, they make us cynical.

So far, even at times when I become cynical and forget my purpose, God or the universe or whatever you call her, sends me something or someone to have the exact impact on my life so that I am put back on track. Sometimes it means I lose things, and sometimes it means I gain people - either way I try to remember to be grateful that I don't have to worry about being brought to a better state of thinking, because the world does it for me.

Galway and the Cliff's of Moher were rather different from Dublin and served as a thinking moment - of fears, of what bravery really means. People had told me I was brave for going on this "trip" (not a vacation, not a study or work abroad - a trip, a bump in the road of life to make sure my shocks are working properly.)
People told me I was brave and people also told me I was stupid. I don't really know what either means to me. I do know that I will always hope for those who think its stupid, I will never forget the feeling of being thought of as brave, and I will remember everyone who expressed either sentiment to me. We never forget the people who trip us, just like we never forget the people who help us stand back up.

So far, the Irish and the people I have met along the way, have all helped me stand up. The people in the west of Ireland were just as friendly and just as open as the ones I had met in Dublin. Theres something about simple kind gestures that reminds me of humanity. Of beauty.

Galway is the western seaport of Irish folk music, where nearby mountains, cliffs, and farmland are right out your window - it was a change of pace from Dublin. The simplicity of the Irish can be summed up in the names of the Galway streets; Market St, Shoppe St, Dock St, Center Square - you can probably guess where to find what, since the names are quite literal. There are no pub crawl streets that I know of... the pubs simply are. 

Galway and the Cliffs caused me to think a lot about how I travel, and what I enjoy. You really have to know yourself and work out all of your personal kinks in order to get going and find comfort in a consistently changing environment. I decided that, what I had always intended was to stay in cities and do day trips out to castles, and hikes.

Galway was a tiny coastal city, much like Portsmouth, NH, or Portland Maine. It is actually the third largest in all of Ireland, with a whopping population of 76,000. The make-up of the town was essentially cobblestone streets with street performers, lots of small shops, restaurants and pubs on the two main drags, then you have seen it all after an hour or less walkabout. I was there on a Sunday, which put me between a weeklong music festival and the beginning of the traditional horse races. There is always a festival in Galway. The city of festivals, I'll call it.

Other than the music, my favorite part of Ireland was that it was homey. Sometimes the greenery of it made me feel like I hadn't even left New England. Out on the hills and through the farms, it was like being in the countryside of New Hampshire, with all of the mountains and free range horses and cows. The perfect transition from home to travel.

I intend to keep pushing myself throughout my trip by going to unfamiliar and challenging places/experiences. For that reason, my first week abroad was in a place that both disappointed me because of its homeyness, and comforted me at the same time.

The Cliffs of Moher were my next personal challenge. Entering the welcome center I had two choices; I could go right and climb up well structured steps to a castle that sat on the cliff's edge - or - I could go left and hike the three or four cliffs where it appeared to be rather challenging. To the left it was far less structured, no stone steps, hardly any fence at all - that's what I chose. I love a good personal challenge. I believe challenge causes growth. I told myself, I am not doing some touristy bullshit just to take a picture. I am hiking. (Step 1 of working out my kinks - know what I like and honor myself by sticking to it.)

The Cliffs of Moher were probably one of the coolest parts of my Ireland adventure. Prior to entering the footpath lining the Cliff's edge was a memorial. A warning really. It went something like:

 "In memory of all the people who have lost their lives at the Cliffs of Moher."

It may as well have said:

 "Warning, people have died doing the stupid shit you are about to do - xoxo the Irish."

More signs said to stay inside the fences for safety. It was a hardy kicker when I realized the design of the fence from the cliffs to the path went like this from out to inland; 750ft drop, cliff's edge, FOOTPATH (and me on the footpath), fence. So if you imagine that, the fence was outside the footpath with no real protection from gravity taking you when you chose to peak over the ledge. Not to mention erosion. It was an Irish caution sign for dummies.

I am terrified of heights. Every time I stopped I had to sit down, otherwise my mind realized my location and sent transmittal signals to the rest of my body that said PANIC! Warning! Don't move or you die! Most of the hike I had to keep my head down in order to not feel a shutter in my heart, and the rest of the time my butt had to be on the ground to know I was safe where I was. I would stop, take a seat, take a picture, followed by a few deep breaths and mantras, then up and onward. Why would I come here? To see the visitor's center? No. I am here to see the Cliffs. No, no. I am here to experience the Cliffs. A friend I had met walked by and said in his Carribean  accent, "what ahh you afraid of? If you fall off dah Cliff, you float and you fly!" His name was Carter, and he had the biggest island smile you could think of. It was the sort of smile people make when they are born and raised in paradise. He had a great thrill about life. I asked him to talk me into continuing. The universe sent me support when I needed it in the form of a carefree Granadian. So we hiked together, me and Carter. I looked at my feet and listened to his stories that he told in his happy free-spirited way.

It was quite windy on top of the Cliffs. I watched seagulls playing in the wind. They would fly up to our eyelevel and then just float, soaring up and down with the wind under their wings like puppet seagulls being tugged up and down by a master. We threw rocks out to the ocean and they floated up above our heads and then whisked back at us. This was no joke. Before I knew it we had made it the entire hike, and it was time to turn back. Inspiration comes unexpectedly, like an uninvited guest you have the choice to be cynical about their presence, or welcome and love them. Carter was so positive and full of life, along the way it reminded me to keep a looseness about me. It's not about taking myself too seriously, it's about taking my life too seriously. The concept of death - it means nothing. I will live forever in my memories - now I just have to make ones that bring me warmth and solitude when I remember them. (A challenging concept to live by, I think.) Now that I wrote that, I can see how Carter really helped me.

We are fearless, young, and beautiful!

After the bus returned me from the Cliffs to Galway, I met a girl named Stephanie from LA. It was nice talking to someone from America, because I didn't have to speak slower than normal, or accidentally mimic an accent and then feel embarrassed by it. I wonder how many people have noticed my ever-changing accent, and thought that I was mocking them. People who are foreigners to me have said that Americans speak too quickly, and are hard to understand. So I always speak slower, and when I do that, people are more confused about where I am from and can no longer guess that I am American - however it also makes me more likely to pick up little odd linguistic dipthongs and slangs that give me an authentic sound. I never tried to do it, but when I spoke "American" for the first time in a week I felt relieved that I wasn't working so hard at speaking slowly and sufficiently with the cultural lingo.

The Northerners call Ireland "Southern Ireland." After traveling from Galway, back to Dublin and then to Belfast - I learned quickly that Northern Ireland is a far different country. The accents are more challenging to understand, rushed and mumbled - as if they are speaking Gaelic and don't even know it. They are also extremely British. I came from my walking tour in Dublin where I was taught the evil of the British as an empire - and now entered the streets of Belfast where British flags are painted everywhere and different slangs are used. Considering the history it seems to me that all of this British pride is propaganda to convince the people they want to be English. Its worked quite successfully. It appeared to be true based on the Northerners I spoke with. Scotland has an upcoming vote that may or may not separate them as an individual country from the UK. I thought, perhaps, if Scotland did that then Whales would be next, then eventually there would be one Ireland again. When I asked locals' opinions about my notion, they told me it will never happen. Too many people have died in making Ireland the way it is now. Northerners are proud to be British. For some reason that disappointed me. Why not be proud to be Irish?

My experience in the North was not as warm with locals as it had been in Ireland, there was a greater disconnect between people it seemed. The Guinness was still equally fantastic.

I stayed with a lovely Polish girl who had been living in N. Ireland for 3 years - she was warm amd generous to me. When I asked her about history, politics, and culture, she explained to me how easy it is for aliens and immigrants to come and get full welfare support from the government, and never contribute anything in return. In the states you have to be a citizen or resident to receive money from the government. My host, being a hard worker, spoke of racism against immigrants. Recently, a N. Ireland government representative had stated publicly that the reason no one was finding work was because the Polish immigrants were coming in and taking the jobs (that may be true due to better education, work ethic, and lower pay expectations, but why stir up racism?) My wonderful tiny host told me that since those remarks were made there had been riots and violence against Polish immigrants and it had been unsafe only a month before I arrived. Don't even get me started on the violence and hatred surrounding Protestant versus Catholic in the region - its real and ever-present. It seems that the few flaws of resilient people is foolhardiness and a hot temperament. I suppose that N. Ireland is a product of what happens when you crossbreed resilient people with the ones who made them resilient.

In Belfast I found a way to escape the propaganda and non-Irish Irish traditions. I took a bus into the suburbs and went for a hike at the Cavehill cliffs behind the Belfast Castle. The Cliffs here were a similar experience to the Cliffs of Moher, so I wont go into too much detail except for that I did it alone on a footpath, smelling flowers and frequently feeling the presence of my loved ones over my shoulder. They told me I was loved, and never to quit. Never quit when you know in your heart that it would be a forfeit, not a defeat. I climbed, I saw, I did it with love.

After Ireland I was meant to be in Scotland. Unfortunately plans were cancelled. So we just go with it :-) This morning I met a Morman missionary couple on a walkabout of S. Kensington Gardens during my first morning in London. Just as God had sent me Carter to make me brave, and Stephanie to make me heedful, so too the missionaries were sent to me to remind me of what I believe in. Empathy. I have never thought of anyone as evil. I have always seen those who behave in anger or hatred as victims of trauma, circumstance, their own minds, etc. Victims in a sense that, he/she may be a predator now, but something made them this way, and something can unmake them this way. I think the undoing is through love, and empathy. That's why I'm in social work. After hearing me give my shpeal about how all you need is love, the missionary asked, "what will your life be like in 5 years?" I can't answer that. "Okay two years?" Nope. "Tomorrow?" I don't know... I think right now I am trying to focus on where my feet are, then I can walk as if my feet are kissing the ground - Someone famous said that, not me. The missionary seemed to regard me as lost rather than found or finding. I don't believe I am either, I believe that I am like an Irish pub - I simply am.

Imagine though, that you could be so aware of yourself that you can recognize every breath, every step, every hand motion. And let every breath breathe love into the life around you, and let every step kiss the ground in gratitude, and let every motion create openness and trust - that your eyes are not only the window to your soul, but the souls of others as well through empathy.  I think that what Christians are really saying when they pray, let everything that breathes praise the Lord. I think I'd like to start with my breath and not to praise through praise but to praise through love.

I think I'm learning that travel can bring growth both in solitude and otherwise. I say this because, in between my solace, every single interaction has notably been specifically for me - designed to remind me of something I already knew, or learn something that will make me better. To challenge is to always grow. The challenge is to focus on where my feet are without being afraid to move, without needing to look where I stand. I tell myself, let go of your hold on life, read the signs and let the universe show you the way. The signs and messages are there, its no coincidence. Its meant for you, me, or them - we just have to accept it as ours and use it to grow. The universe is a tool.

Cheers