Ireland, a land of smiles, stone walls, and sheep (and Sol LeWitt...)

I've covered a lot of ground in the last few days. Granted, it was only a fraction of the whole country of Ireland, but I made it to both coasts and a small island. Again, posts will partly be for me to remember, part fun stories...so read on and absorb what you will. (There's a lot of pressure to make sure this is interesting.) "The apostles were a motley crew too!" So I arrived in Galway, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at the wrong door. Woke up some random guy who curtly asked, "what are you all about?" As he shut the door, he pointed in a direction, and by following addresses on trash cans, I made it to Aoife and Emma's house. (Characters to know: Aoife, a director who did theater with me in college and is doing a masters and PhD at the university in Galway, and Emma, her house mate and founding partner of their theater company.) Immediately crashed and woke up to meet two other house mates, Conal (a fiddle player from Philly) and Tristan (a fellow traveler from MI). We went into the town and visited the cathedral (where above quote was found on a poster for joining the priesthood), which has beautiful stained glass windows depicting, of all things, water and flames. After following A to a rehearsal, E, C, T, and I went to a comedy show at De Burgos and then to the Crane, an amazing pub that I would never have found if I were only a tourist. (More thoughts on tourism below.) It was definitely a local place, where even if you didn't know anyone, you fit in. Some musicians played away in the corner, a few people danced every few songs, and just it was one of the most comfortable and welcoming atmospheres I've ever been in. We sat next to all the musicians, since C had played with many of them, and it was a very lively and wonderful time. We stayed until closing and headed to the Roisin Dubh, another pub, since it was Conal's last night, and stayed until closing there. Once at the house, the boys wanted a full Irish breakfast...yes it was 3AM...and Emma, after disapproving of their cooking methods, cooked a beautiful breakfast which made the perfect ending to a perfect first day. The next day, I headed off on an early train to Dublin. After trying to find Dublin Castle (which looks nothing like a "castle" in my mind compared with a church I followed from the skyline and got lost thinking it was the castle) for about an hour and a half, I toured around there and Christ Church Cathedral and St. Audoen's Church, which had beautiful stonework! Met A at the train station and headed to Tom and Emma's (more characters: wonderful couple with the cutest baby, Nell) to get ready for...get this...a reception at the U.S. ambassador's residence. The ambassador's residence...how do I describe it...was the most posh place I've ever been to for a reception. It's in the middle of the park, across the street from the President of Ireland's house, down a gorgeous driveway. It is the quintessential mansion from any Victorian novel, and I felt like all the women should have been in huge ball gowns waltzing around. Rather, we were a motley crew of artists (I met Tom Killroy, a famous playwright, and had U2's manager pointed out to me, among other illustrious people) all gathered to see the presentation of a Sol LeWitt wall drawing that was just installed in the ambassador's residence. Sol LeWitt, as the museum lady said, was one of the first "conceptual" artists...which doesn't necessarily bode with me well. If you've never been with me to an modern art museum, you should know that I have been known to scream at Blue Canvas #31.5, Duct Tape on Floor, and other such pieces of "art." However, knowing how this LeWitt piece was done made me appreciate it a little more. He drew out 8 simple lines and curves on squares, and the installers pick out the numbers 1-8 out of a hat to decide which squares go in which parts of the grid. All patterns that are made are unique and random. But the coolest part was meeting the ambassador and seeing his house. He gets to look out his windows and watch deer frolic through the park, drive golf balls at his private driving range, and support local art in his home...pretty good job I'd say. And the best part...he was wearing a chicken tie during the reception. Yeah, I notice these things. But he was the nicest and most welcoming guy, and he was so glad that we were there. I'd go back...Aoife... Anyway, after that wonderful introduction to Dublin, I left on an early morning train back to Galway to get on a ferry to Inis Mor, one of the Aran Islands of the west coast. The island is made up of gorgeous scenery and stone walls. I have never seen SO many stone walls in my life. The bus tour guide said there are 7000 miles of stone walls on the island (which is definitely a tourist number...miles?), but I could believe it. A stone wall enclosed every square of land, so the countryside looked like a leaf under a microscope...green and gridded. And it was beautiful stonework...no mortar, just stacked stone. A fort on the cliffs was the same way. Supposedly people started building the walls only in the nineteenth century...so many walls, so little time. But I'll always associate Ireland with stone walls...which reminded me of Robert Frost's poem, "The Mending Wall."

There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.

I wonder if the walls are necessary...but it does seem like Ireland, as a community, is very close. Everyone is a friend. Maybe it's the walls. Maybe it's the Guinness.

Met two girls from Capetown, South Africa on my tour. We went back on different ferries, but ran into each other on Shop St. and hung out some more. Had dinner with Aoife that night and discussed the pros and cons of being a "tourist." Staying with locals, you get to see the city through those eyes and get to go places off the beaten track. Tourist guides and maps tend to frame a city in a very different way than how people living there would describe their city. However, when I go to a touristy place, I feel a sort of safety. I think it's because I'm surrounded by other stupid tourists with the same stupid questions, and all of us have no clue as to what is going on. Being in that boat is sometimes a nice place to float. To fit in or not to fit in...that is the question. Well, I guess the camera gives it away.

Speaking of (click on picture for more pictures):



Sorry if that was boring...I'll get the hang of storytelling by the end of this.

Cheers!
Melissa