During Travel Post #3

“San Francisco isn’t in the same country as Lakeside anymore than New Orleans is in the same country as New York or Miami is in the same country as Minneapolis.”
“Is that so?” said Shadow, mildly.
“Indeed it is. They may share certain cultural signifiers—money, a federal government, entertainment—it’s the same land, obviously—but the only things that give it the illusion of being one country are the greenback, The Tonight Show, and McDonald’s.”

-- Neil Gaiman, American Gods

So.  I found out what my problem with Ireland is.

I'm on the wrong side of the island.

Now, don't get me wrong. Dublin is a perfectly lovely place, once you get used to it. You do have to make the effort, but you can find history hiding in places -- or pubs, of course, all of them proclaiming that some famous writer or other once drank there. But it's like going to New Orleans and going, "Okay. Seen the Gulf Coast!"

 

Today, I went to the famous Cliffs of Moher. I took a tour that I'd selected specially because it included a hike up a Burren mountain.

Now, let me pause to say that I? Am not a nature girl. I do not take to camping, walking, or generally being outdoors very well. But I thought, What the hell? It says 'gentle mountain hike'. It'll be a charming little stone-lined path up the mountain.

GUYS, I CLIMBED A BLOODY MOUNTAIN. And I mean, climbed up, stepped over stones and through windy, well-trodden paths the width of your foot, with a hiking pole to support myself up and everything. I was red-faced and out of breath every time we stopped.

But I made it all the way up to the top.

The Burren is a part of Ireland that once was under water; then when the Ice Age came, the glaciers pushed all the soil off the land, leaving exposed limestone mountains. You can't grow anything in the soil because it's very thin and the limestone doesn't allow water to stay in the ground, but grass grows well there; so it's the picturesque farm country you see in postcards. As I was climbing over these massive limestone rocks, all I could think about was how the ancients thought rocks and fossils were the remains of giants and dragons.

I was walking through a graveyard, a gorgeous, blossoming necropolis.

At the very top there was a tree with bits of paper and string tied around it -- there was a legend concerning that type of tree (ash, I think) that if you tied something of yours around the tree you left the problem behind for the faeries to take care of.

Paper is biodegradable, so I don't feel too guilty for littering.

After the hike (HIKE PEOPLE, HIKE), we had tea and cake, then went to the Cliffs of Moher. The weather was, apparently, perfect -- sun-shine and little wind. The guide kept remarking how gorgeous the weather was and how lucky we were.

Now, the Cliffs? Breathtaking. Sheer rock faces that fall straight down into the sea, the water breaking over boulders and sea life just off the coast. Little white caps kept breaking out in the (blue, blue, deeply gorgeous sapphire blue) water, like dolphins surfacing. Or Selkies.

After that, we drove around the coast and into Galway. Which, actually, is in the general area where my great-great grandmother came from, way, way back in the day, so it had a bit of an extra-special meaning to me. We walked through the main street of Galway and then back again to meet our bus back to Dublin.

Today? That's the sort of day I was expecting in Ireland. If you're heading this way, the tour I took is MacCoole's Tours; you meet up early with Caroline in front of the TI on Suffolk Street, and she walks you to your bus and gives you a lovely little walking tour of Dublin and explains about where you'll be going. John is her cousin, who gives the hiking tour. They're both rather brilliant, too -- she's got a history degree and actually teaches in Dublin, and he's got an archaeology degree. And they feed you cake. Did I mention that? You can get cake or pie at the end of the hike. Hey, you climbed a freakin' mountain.  You've earned it.

It's well past one AM over here by now, but I had to get out and tell you even just a little bit about how magical my day was today. Tomorrow is my last full day -- shopping, anyone?

Bravery and the Fine Lines

"Can you hear that? That’s me smiling, y’all. I’m smiling so loud you can fucking hear it."

-- Jenny the Bloggess

My last entry concerning what I am coming to call The Great California Wedding Rush was, basically, a rant post.  It was quick (well, for me) and off the cuff, and full of sarcasm and anger.

Well, I'm back from Cali now, not as well rested as I'd like to be (damn you jetlag, still kicking my butt two days later). I've still got the sarcasm, but now I've got a serene focus that's helping me glide through the days.

The weekend was short -- far, far too short, but then again all time is when it involves good friends.  I spent the majority of my time at the beautiful Mission Inn in Riverside, California, where my friends got married in the gorgeous chapel on site. 

Now, in my last blog post I mentioned the story of the Origin of Love, from Plato's famous Symposium, a conversation about love that supposedly occurred in real life and was heard down the line by Plato and written down.  The particular story I cited was told by the character of Aristophanes, a real-life contemporary of Socrates'. Since he was a comic poet, some scholars have interpreted his myth as a parody of creation myths. But even if it was intended to be that way, it still contains that one good thing that call great comedy does:

On one level? It's true.

People always say, "You're starting out on this journey together" to newlyweds. Roads and travel and new lives are easy parallels, and it's easy to equate a partner with a passenger or fellow traveller; someone you've brought along for the ride, to talk to you during the long stretches of nothing, to take over when you need some well-needed rest, and someone to enjoy the sights with.

So let me say this, to our lovely newlyweds, M & S (I'd switch the order, but it wasn't that sort of wedding): Thank you. Thank you for inviting me to be a part of your happy, happy day. Thank you for reminding me, the old cynic that cringes when someone says "God bless you" when I sneeze, that not all religious people are the fire-and-brimstone types that get far too much press and ruin it for the rest. Thank you for showing me within twenty minutes of meeting the two of you exactly what I want, and for giving me the hope that someday, I will be as complete as you (seriously, you both just glow when you talk about the other). Thank you for giving me a moment during the day where I was able to realize that there was no room for the typical single-at-a-wedding melancholy, that everyone I loved was happy, that there was absolutely no room for anything but overwhelming joy, that I was fiercely happy.

Yes, your road together will be hard -- potholes that most people don't even imagine will probably be your norm -- but you are both strong, and strong together.  You have faced tough times before, and you will face them again, and damn it you will be stronger for it, not weaker. Steel is forged through fire and water, after all.  And we love you, even when it feels like no one else does.  Wholly, completely, no matter what.  Fuck them. You have us. And we're better anyway.

While I've got everyone here, though, I'd like to say something to my not-so newlyweds (EL and her honey), my no-longer newlyweds (A & R), my almost-weds (N & E), my never-gonna-happen-and-we're-just-fine-thank-you-very-muches (Midassa and Walkabout Man):  You are all so much braver than you think.  You've chosen a path and you're sticking to it and to each other and that? Is brave. Even if you don't think so, I find you to be incredibly brave.

To the rest of us, the never-doing-that-agains, the never-gonna-happens:  Love actually does exist. I've seen it. And with far too alarming regularity for it to be a fluke.  But even if it doesn't, that's okay.  Striking out on your own and doing things that make you happy is brave as hell as well.  I daresay even moreso, because you'll have ignorant fools telling you how brave you are to do that all by yourself!  And we'll smile and nod and say Oh yes, it is, isn't it? and secretly laugh inside at how easy it is to please ourselves.

And finally, to all of you, named and unnamed: Thank you for letting me a part of your journey, even in the limited capacities of annoying backseat driver and quick pit stop crew.  I love you all.

One day I hope to be as brave.