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I keep seeing doors. I’m not sure if it’s because my wonderful mother has now created a folder in my mind for doors but the interesting thing is they are always open and they are hidden. They are calling me and the desire to answer is so strong that I wonder what I am missing when I miss walking thru.

I went to a place called Bantry House and Gardens today. It’s an old estate that has been passed on thru generations. I noticed that people would walk up the path and when it it would fork they always went to the left, towards the house. Yet again the call for me came from the right, the rustling trees lured me and the fragrant flowers called my senses to come hither

I began to walk on this gravelly path when from the corner of my eye I saw Red. That I know is my mother’s training. I happened upon a small bridge that didn’t lead anywhere but for some strange reason I hid among the trees gazing at the bridge wishing  it to be a magical bridge that actually did lead somewhere- maybe somewhere I couldn’t see with my eyes.

If I believed in fairy tales I’d say it was the kind of bridge that would leave me to the enchanted forest. Alas as I do not believe in fairy tales I was forced out of my hiding place and back to the path, I continued my hike upwards. I never wondered where it lead, my eyes were immersed in the green and my eyes forced to acclimate to the little light that escaped the density of the treetops. I pressed on knowing that walking in Ireland had proved fruitful before and would again. Now I must say the corners of my eyes have the most amazing sight because wouldn’t you know it they saw something again. This time it couldn’t have been helped….the open door  would have come sooner or later. But like Roger “I wonder… and yet I wonder” the door could only be seen by those willing to go thru the forest.

So perhaps the vision of the door was not as I had originally thought meant for all, perhaps it is more the reward for the brave souls who see the forest for the trees. Well today it was just me, I wandered those trees for a few hours resting upon their trunks and yet no other foot steps did I hear. As I descended the 100 shale steps to the garden below the trees shook once more bidding me farewell and silently praying for my heart. What heights those trees reach and what depths they showed me lies within.

The second half of my day was filled with boats,seals, dolphins and towers. I boarded the Harbour Queen at half past 1, I would expect nothing less than a ferry called the queen for me. Anyways it took me across a very cold and windy Bantry Bay (where yummy mussels come from ) along the way we saw some seals that were sunbathing on what seemed to be a floating rock covered in moss.

As I began snapping pictures the old Irish man driving the boat turned down to me and called me to their other side, I jumped over quickly realizing he trekked these waters each day and would know better than I were my eyes should be. To my surprise and utter delight beautiful Dolphins were swimming alongside the boat. They were so close to the boat that if the window opened I probably could have touched one of them.

We arrived a few minutes later at Ilnacullin. She’s a small island that is an entire garden. Another amazing recommendation from my B&B host. I wish I was a better poet, and I now find that even the words of great poets who lived and breathed the air I am now breathing fall short of what it truly is. The island taught me so much but mostly it showed me that I am capable of more than I believe I am. The trail goes thru 90% of the island the other 10% being apparently excavated land that was never completed by the original owner who used to call it home.

I have learned that those mountains I love to look at are mounds of land calling for climbers and ramblers. Heights seem to be in my itinerary as everywhere I turned another hill demanded my balance and my feet. At the top of the highest hill lied the “Martello Tower” it was originally built by the British War Office as a lookout type structure and therefore required it to be high enough  to see the island and all the waterways leading to it. In other words it’s high as….damn I couldn’t come up with a good pun. Anyway it’s high…so I start climbing and climbing and climbing….nope still climbing, ok truth time I stopped like twice on the way up to catch my breath and make sure I really needed and wanted to go all the way up. Unfortunately persistence seems to be my word for the year so guess what I did…I climbed, I climbed till I reached what I thought was the top (I learned during my first hike the best way to climb a hill is to not look up- it’s way too daunting and it reminds you how far you still have to go) so as I got to the ‘top’ I found that what lies before me is a couple of hundred stone steps.

I’m not even going to say what I did when we all know…so when I got to the top I walked towards this round stone tower with tiny heads poking out the top. I climbed up the stairs and found someone’s living room, there was a fire place and very very very old cookware and alcoves to sleep in and then I panned around to find a very very very small spiral staircase which would lead me to the top.

The hesitation that I had once had, disappeared. I could not have arrived here to simply say no I’m too tired or it’s too hard. I pulled my satchel (yeah I said satchel)to my front as we would not fit with it on my side and I grabbed the ice cold stones and began to ascend very slowly…in the dark. After what seemed an eternity..one I could never go back down, all at once there was light. It did not trickle in but it shine heavy and bright. The top revealed a 360 panaromic view that congratulated me wholeheartedly.

I stayed up there for awhile, long enough for the patrons that came after me to leave and then I descended back into the darkness yet this time seeing only the light.
The tower was the final stop on the tour and as I walked back to the Quay to catch the queen back the light shine and I realized that the road which I had traveled upon did not feel my footsteps twice. My circle was complete and the water was summoning me for departure. Yet as I rode that red and white boat back safely to Harbour I realized that I double back on the same path in my life too many times. The ground is paved with my footsteps and now reverse seems acceptable and even…comfortable. I need to pave new roads with my feet and that’s what this trip is. I didn’t realize it at first but this dirt has been calling my tread for sometime, it was only when I allowed myself to see the light like in the spiral staircase that I could see there was no other way but up, for what lies behind and below me was already known and would still be there upon my return.

Ok now that I’ve gotten all the deep stuff out off the way- it’s time for the superficial stuff everyone actually cares about. So on my plane ride over I read a letter that listed several tasks…I am determined to complete them all, however I must disclose one of the the items is to kiss a boy. I assume the boy must be Irish although it was not specified. So how do I complete this task… I have been on a secluded peninsula in Ireland and have been frequenting a local pub. This pub you see has a handsome red headed Irish man- have I told you about Irish men…oh really well allow me the pleasure.
Irish men are built like actual men. Coming from Miami I see a lot of boys who build their bodies to look like men, while men here just work and live and look like men who can raise cattle and a family. I’ve been looking for a man like that – I doubt this bartender is the mountain meant to be climbed but surely he is a valley to be enjoyed. As I stand in the shadow of his stature I feel his strength even thought it is hidden. You know what else these men have…the ability to drink like men and they told me my stomach holds their Irish ways very well. I hope he meant I drink my pint well but I won’t be embarrassed if he meant something else.

Here is the pub, its beer garden and its wonderful patrons. Now its a tin pub meaning its made of tin yet somehow what lies within those walls is not a good pint and a fair glass of whiskey but rather a community that gather round to share as a family would around a dinner table.

Day two which is technically day one has so much to say. I wish I was able to use words to describe what I have seen and the words that were pressed into my souls by the rocks and the water that surround me.

The wonderful and amazing b&b that had had the pleasure of hosting me recommended a walk down to the lighthouse. Sounded good to me…until I walked down the first hill and realized that I was going to have to climb one. The “walk” proved so fruitful…not because I saw the lighthouse at the end or even because I could show you exactly on a map the tip of the island which I am so fortunate to call home for a few days…none of those things although incredible are the reason for my fruitfulness.

During this freaking trek I learned so much. I don’t know how cows and rocks and dirt can do that but alas they did. I wish I could paint this picture but I can’t so instead I’ll show you the words God painted

   The path began much like life a fairly even tread never requiring much energy simply pleased you decided to stop by for a visit. However a visit was not what this mountain had in store for me. Just as I became convinced that the path would be the walk they had promised it changed to great mountains and valleys that I would have to climb and descend. As I reached the top of the first mountain the path lay before me one too big for me to climb and yet calling to me like a siren.

So would you like to know what I saw what I now understand…why did I wait those three periods of course you want to know.

Valleys have always been described as long as I can remember as times in your life when life is not as good as the mountain tops-I’m calling bullshit. Whoever said that horseradish has clearly never climbed a mountain but more importantly they have never walked a valley.  As I trekked thru the Sheeps’s head peninsula I found that valleys are sometimes mountains that are simply being overshadowed. I climbed mountains only to find that I was actually in the bottom of a valley. Here is the thing valleys are not low peaks but rather they are accomplishments of the mountains you just climbed and rest for the next mountain you are set to climb.
Most everyone in my life except for my favorite girls in KC knows that my mountaintop is a husband and a family to care for and I’ve always worried that when I climb that mountain and find him at the top my life will become a valley. Guess what…now that mountain seems small compared to the peace the valley can offer me.

Back to Ireland-although if I’m honest I don’t think I’ll ever leave… my mind and my body may leave but the very part of my heart that says Èiree will stay forever.

Ok so I lost my train of thought not because I’m drunk off that sweet stout but because my phone died at the pub and I just got home about three hours later. I had an amazing dinner on the bay at a little pub called Arundel’s..yes like the frozen movie. Anyway I’m in bed now and too tired to be my normal self full of words and stuff. See I’m already losing my poetic touch. What douche bag is using ‘stuff’ as an adjective.

Anyway like I was saying. I am going on another adventure tomorrow and this time I will be armed with wine and cheese and a full battery on my phone. Expect big things from me tomorrow and no more of this shite.

Actually one more funny story – Arundel’s bathrooms are like rooms but unlike the restaurants in Miami the walls go all the way up and all the way down. I made a comment to the waiter /bar keep and he said ” oh yeah that’s so you girls can have a proper shite and still look each other in the eye ” umm yeah I love Ireland.

Oh yeah this is Max my new friend from he Pub.

Is breá lion Èire

For those of you that don’t know- One of my favorite things to do is research. I’m sure thats part of why I couldn’t bring myself to do a guided tour of Ireland. For months I have researched B&B, Castles, Airlines and car rentals. I hate surprises especially if not mostly when I travel. There is so much that is already out of your control- unless you know how to fly a plane. I dated a pilot once but for some reason we never got around to teaching me how to fly- although we spent a lot of time in his planes…I digress. As I was saying I researched the shit out of every decision I made and nucking nothing was left to chance.

First choice was airline- I knew I didn’t want to fly British as I read some pretty bad things about connecting flights in Heathrow, besides their “premium economy” seemed to be an economy seat with a curtain around it. Instead I decided on Lufthansa…A-mazing.

Check out my first meal spread- its missing the two very generous pours of white wine and my post coital- I mean post-dinner Bailey’s

So Lufthansa gets a freaking A+ from me- besides the food the seat was comfortable and the entertainment selection was out of hand. I never even cracked open my Mac.

Now let’s talk car rental- I really don’t want to get into it cause Im still a little peeved but for the sake of posterity. Did anyone ever see that epidose of Seinfeld when he has to get a rental because his car is in the shop and when he arrives no car. “Anyone can take a reservation…its the holding part thats important” I mean I know I’m pretty and pretty is usually stupid but as per usual these stupid boys are catching me on the day when I’m collecting balls. I got my car except for some reason they messed it up and put everything ON THE WRONG FREAKING SIDE. Ok I could lie to you now and tell you that its not that big a deal…….

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Its fucking nuts!!!! sorry for all the cursing but its required. There might not be a more rational and yet irrational fear of not being able to drive, but there I was in the Hertz airport parking lot frozen in fear. I eventually worked myself out of the car park and around the airport ohh just about 7 times. Thus began the three hour journey to my first B&B in Cork which when you look at the map- go down about 100km I’m right at the tip…oh my god get your mind out of the gutter. Geez!

As my three hour journey on the wrong side of the car, wrong side of the road and wrong side of the world started  there was something lurking, I can’t believe I didn’t smell it coming. So náive..again sore subject let’s just say the three hour drive turned into 6hrs and 2o something minutes. There were times on the road I really thought I was going to fall asleep and I started to get so upset that the trip was going wrong already and then I literally just looked to the side of the car and realized, I’m seeing Ireland. The whole point was for me to see it and the detours that caused me to lose more time helped me gain new perspective.

Oh and right now I am laying down in my beautiful four poster bed looking out at the Dunmanus Bay- no I will not tell you what I’m wearing. I mean my gosh this is a travel blog sir…stop asking these things of me…ok fine if you insist I’m wearing the t-shirt my sister changed me into the other day that I might have had a little too much to drink- makes me feel she’s here with me. Sofia is here too..

Oiche Mhaith

Sometime eight months ago I started to feel the familiar pull to get out. It happens to me every now and then. I think some of it had to do with the fact that as a kid we moved around a bit (not too much). However that packing and unpacking left a sense of clean slate in me. The idea of leaving something behind and finding something new might be the only thing sexier than me on a Thursday night on my way to get my weekly cocktail. The last three years of my life had proven unstable, I had lost and found I had moved out and in, I had loved and left behind. That January I tasted it..safety. It was such a sweet taste, it had  been years since that feeling had revealed itself in my life.

With safety wrapped tightly around me I began to  toy with the idea of going on “vacation”. Ireland was the first place my heart choose, but it’s grandiosity pulled me from its clutches and I moved to safer and smaller distances- South Carolina, Montana maybe even Mexico. However all those plans came crashing down on me one very early Friday morning as my Princess Sofia left me. Distressed seems a disrespectful word for the situation. I had lost a great companion but maybe even more selfishly I had lost some seriously unconditional love. So much for safe- there was no more time for safe. I knew that in the incredibly short time that I had my Sofia I was reminded of that reckless abandon which I used to call my own. It was only ever going to be Ireland. I booked the ticket and haven’t looked back since.

Last night as I wheeled my blue and yellow duffel out to the front door I wondered where all my anxiety was. Normally before any flight I am a big ball of nerves. I’ve missed flights, found a hostile landscape upon my arrival and experienced the kind of turbulence that makes you question ever getting back on a plane. But last night none of that existed. I haven’t had such great sleep (a fucking accomplishment) in such a long time. My heart is full and I feel so at ease.

For those of you wondering ” Why the hell is this such a big deal- its just a plane ride” well its not a plane ride besides the fact that its two, this isn’t about where I am going its about the person who is leaving and what she expects to find. Nothing as cliche as herself but rather the freedom to be exactly who she is never adding or subtracting. Also for information purposes – I am flying into Dublin and renting a car that I suspect small car will take me across the expanse of Southern Ireland. All by my damn self.

As I sit in the fine establishment of the Corona Beach House I am no longer wondering how “socking” crazy this is but rather what took me so socking long to do it. I’m 20 minutes from boarding and all I want to do is take one last look in the mirror. The woman who reflects her image back to me will not be returning. I plan to leave so much on that island, I only ask that she give me in return something to bring back with me.

Travels Sábháilte