As many of you know, we are back home. I have had a time getting these last few posts on line -- it is not always as easy as it was in the beginning where we had networks in the homes/ B'nB's we visited. So I writing this as though I were just experiencing it...though in truth, it was a short while ago.
Our plane arrived a couple of hours after we had planned -- and dear Dirk -- Therese's husband -- was patiently waiting there for us. We drove to their home, to be greeted by Therese -- who has not changed a bit in the last 20+ years -- and their children, Ben -- a red-headed young Irish lad who looks and acts EXACTLY like my red-headed Irish/Norwegian son. They are cut off the same cloth. And, young Miss Sarah, who is 8 going on 25.
We got to spend time just chatting the next morning, a welcome bit of rest, catching up on all the things that had transpired since last we saw her -- when she and Dirk were but dating. They had met while in college at Brown University in Rhode Island. She had come to Mississippi to research her doctoral subject...the music at Clear Creek Missionary Baptist Church out west of town. He was one of a few youth allowed out of his home country, East Germany, in the Communist era. It was not easy to love across Communist borders, but they managed, and just as he was preparing to "escape", the Berlin Wall fell. He was able to migrate to Ireland legally.
Well that was many years ago. Today, he has earned his Ph.D in German history, and teaches in a special German/Irish school in Dublin. Therese is currently the chair of the University of the City of Dublin's music department. (It rotates, and she is near the end of her term. You figure how ready she is to give up the position. :-) ) Together, they taught us so much about both Irish history and German history. This trip has been one I wish I could have taken before I quit teaching...there is so much that we Americans are unaware of. And we are meeting/seeing so many people who lived during the last 60 years, experiencing war and oppression first hand. I am always amazed at what folks are able to endure.
Dirk drove us along the shores south of Dublin -- we saw that beautiful green land as it met the Irish Sea.
There were a few brave souls splashing about in the cool waters, but not many. Most folks we saw were sauntering amongst the beautiful wildflowers along the path between the road and the water. We joined them.
The next day, Therese's Mom joined us for a day of sightseeing. We went off the highways, to an 18th century estate, where they had a wonderful lunch to serve...and we ate at the edge of an exquisite garden. As we returned to the car, there were the most beautiful rose plants I have ever seen...I will try to include a couple of pictures. Those folks knew how to do flowers AND desserts...though we didn't really get to try one.
From there we ventured across the Wicklaw Mountains, on a windswept and rolling road that dissected the peat bogs. Everywhere -- on both sides of the road, there was evidence of folks cutting the bogs to provide heat in the winter. As a Southerner, I was particularly interested in their little "bog cotton" plant. It was always present where there was peat...and when we got out an picked a blossom, it was like a tiny, and more delicate cotton boll. The "cotton" was silky and fine, and blew in the breezes like a flag atop a sailing ship. I did get a video of that --
The peat bogs are rather swampy -- you get "bogged down" if you try to walk on it -- so there are no homes or buildings to be seen across the landscape. You have the feeling of being in a remote section of the nation -- though you are probably less than an hour away from downtown Dublin. It reeks of literature about the moors, and bogs, and loneliness. I loved that feeling.
We were headed for the ruins of a 6th to 10th century monastery, but along the way, Therese showed us the German POW cemetery that the Irish had made. The sentiment was so poignant: I died here far away from the home I loved...please remember me. I was quite touched that even though the Irish remained neutral during WWII, they saw the young captured German soldiers as boys far away from home, whether they were winners or losers, whose last resting place deserved to be peaceful. Along side the small cemetery flowed a beautiful stream. Its waters murmured past those moss covered boulders on its shores to set the perfect scene for eternity. Good work, you Irish.
Arriving at the monastery, we found ourselves midst many tourists, even a bus or two, I think. We wandered among the ruins, such as a stone church, built a millennium and more ago. I am always amazed at the skills of folks who have the most primitive tools. On this church there was a stone roof. The building was small in size, but still, to have a roof made entirely of stones that has lasted since the 7th century AD is quite a feat. The monastery stood on the shores of one of Ireland's dark lakes -- made so by the tannin that seeps down from the mountains -- yet pure and clean and clear as can be. The lake has one or two areas that ease down the mountain to make a shore, but most of the edge is quite vertical. Therese's Mom, Mary Smith, recounted that legend says the head of the monastery would climb up the mountains to get away from the women. He must have been kin to Frederick the Great, who forbid women from coming to his summer palace in Potsdam. What's the deal?
We drove on around the area, and headed home. At one particular place, one could feel far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, yet you were within a half hour's drive of Dublin. We came up on a pasture with a young Clydesdale colt, following its mother around. What a peaceful scene. Our time in the country was absolutely wonderful.
The next few days we spent in the city. We mastered the suburban tram, and took the "hop on hop off" buses around Dublin. My children (who are half Norwegian) would love visiting there...every time I turned around the guide was saying, "evidence shows that the Vikings were here." So, did the red hair come from the Vikings or from the Irish? I'll probably never know...both my family and their father's has strong red haired strains....
Put simply, we loved Dublin. Their city center is a pedestrian area that caters to tourists, but has a good deal of locals shopping there as well. Pubs, as you might imagine, are in great abundance. We did take the literary pub crawl and found it most enjoyable. The actors who read from and "taught" about the great Irish writers did a masterful job. Reports were that the lad was a soap opera star. He sure knew his literature.
We played real "grandparents" and took the kids to a movie and pizza. It was at a metroplex with gazillion screens, just like we have here, and the dinner was at Pizza Hut. When we later took the entire family out for a dinner, they chose a Thai restaurant. Try to deny "globalization".
The week sped by, and before we knew it, it was again time to lug the suitcases out to the car and head for an airport. It was sad to say goodbye -- as it had been in every other location on this trip, but there were promises of returning to Mississippi for a "look-see" and to introduce it to the children. We are counting on them doing just that.
I'll see if I can mount some photos...
