It was Tuesday when my phone buzzed.
New IMessage:
What are you packing?
The time had come. The countdown had officially commenced.
It was time
to start
packing.
For Ireland.
I inhaled sharply and sighed audibly at the bleak thought of leaving hot, sweet and sweaty and blindingly sunny Sarasota. I tap-tap-tapped back at the screen:
Jeans and long sleeves and sweaters. I’ll probably bring my boots, too! Maybe one dress?
(Yes, I add exclamation points even when I’m not excited…a habit I’m trying to break, I know.)
Isn’t it something how the weather matters? I used to chuckle at how adults defaulted to bland-as-ever talk about the weather. Now, I catch myself doing it. And sometimes, sure, it’s to avoid awkwardness, to ease into conversation with a stranger. But sometimes, I genuinely care about what’s going on in the sky!
For something that happens everyday, the weather can be rather interesting.
And we like to pretend we are in control of so many things but for now, the weather isn’t up to us! At least today’s weather isn’t! Which is wonderful and frustrating!
Mid-August had come and I was gearing up for a trip to Ireland with my family and some of my best friends who may as well be family. The main objective of our adventure? Wash over Dublin in a wave of garnet and gold. Florida State Football is a program I have supported since before I could decide for myself to support anything or anyone, decided for me and I truly would not have it any other way.
Contrary to popular belief, Ireland it not all shamrocks and rain clouds. While I did one morning come across a clear shot at a full rainbow and held tighter than usual my grip on the image of a leprechaun holding a pot of gold at one of its ends, the destination was not what I imagined it would be.
Ireland surprised me!
Of course, I’m not saying we had clear skies for days!
But we arrived to Sheen Falls Lodge soaked in sunshine.
Situated on the, you guessed it, Sheen River, we accessed the lodge through a town named Kenmare. The streets of Kenmare are lined with pubs and dotted with shops that sell hand-knitted wool sweaters and artisanal ice cream.
Half of our group stayed in Villa Rosa, a perfectly pink 4-bedroom villa. The other members of our group moved in next door, into Villa Rosa’s green cousin, Villa Verde. (For any “Fairly Odd Parents” fans out there, it was some real Cosmo and Wanda stuff!)
*insert blissful, nostalgic smile*
Upon arrival, I headed from the main house to the villa ahead of the group, sick of being in the car with people I consider to be family. I tried to take a nap and ended up being sick — for real, properly sick.
I’ll spare you the details but the Guinness Bread tasted better going down than it did coming back up.
And even if Guinness Bread could have been avoided in these parts (it could not have been, I assure you), I would not dare stay away from the stuff.
Far too good.
Sheen Falls
On the morning of day two, we went for a group walk. We had a lot to say about the rising tides and the names on the tombstones at the graveyard. We found vows at the boathouse, left from the wedding the night before, we assumed. I listened to some members of our group rave about the man they met the night before at the bar —
“He’s going to get this place a Michelin star.”
They were very impressed with the new restaurant manager. Always keen to give me a hard time, they suggested I date him.
Afternoon came and I answered a knock at the door to find two caterers, Kira and Lois, I believe they were called. And they cooked burgers and hot dogs and salads — something to make the Americans feel at home. Before this, though, we gathered around a platter of seafood on ice; between games of bocce ball on the lawn and dance breaks on the stones overlooking falling tides; I had the dreamy, happy, smiling realization that it was only night two and we, my family and I, had turned this place so far from the place we call home into a place that felt like our own.
We played Cards Against Humanity into the wee hours of the morning, warmed by the fire in the living room.
“Our group spent the morning separated, golfing or being massaged or playing cards. We reconvened over red wine on the patio around mid-day.”
On our third morning in the villa, I woke to tales of a certain sleepwalker among us. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, amused by the rain pants to rain hats donned by the golfers braving the rain of the day. Our group spent the morning separated, golfing or being massaged or playing cards. We reconvened over red wine on the patio around mid-day.
One friend and I looked at the river, rushing and tumbling much rougher than the morning past.
“Can you believe we stood just right there yesterday?”
Yesterday’s cold plunge would have today been impossible. Another reminder that people and their plans are always at the mercy of ever-changing nature. We have so much to learn! What a joy that we keep getting taught!
Whatever virus had infected me eventually made its way through to some other members of our group. The infected agreed amongst ourselves we would not wish this sort of suffering on even our worst enemies; as any well-traveled traveler knows, there’s not much worst than a stomach bug on vacation, when all you want to do is enjoy but all you can manage to do is lie down and hope to recover before you have to get on a plane.
On day 4, we did not have to board a plane.
We did, however, have to board a bus.
The bus from Sheen Falls Lodge to Ashford Castle was less than enjoyable. No one’s fault but our own, a combination of sickness stops, necessary for some and not others, rain and building closures during comfort breaks, and loud beeps from the bus’s lane detection technology turned what was supposed to take 4 hours into a full work day’s worth of driving.
One of our many memorable stops, this one planned, landed us at the Cliffs at Moher. Inspired views of the Atlantic ocean and the Aran islands and winds that lifted my feet off the ground reinvigorated me for the last bit of our drive.
The getting places is never the most comfortable part of travel, many of us who don’t own a private jet can agree. I tend to enjoy the feeling of relief, the comfort evermore comfortable that awaits on the other side of a long day of travel.
To state the obvious, Ashford Castle is fit for royalty. The Castle, to which began referring to it only moments after a man on bagpipes led us across bridge, stunned us speechless.
And we pretended for two nights that the place belonged to us. We luxuriated in room service. We made use of the movie theater and the billiards room. Some of us played more golf and some of us flew falcons while others sipped tea, pinkies high.
Our falcon woman, expertly cast as a character in my princess fairytale dreams, had the eyes of a pixie hollow fairy. They were eyes that seemed to say to her flying falcons, “quit your nonsense. I know what you’re doing.” It was incredible to witness her expertise and opened my own (boring and brown) eyes to a way of life, dare I call it, I never knew existed.
The breakfast buffet features aged ham at a carving station (which, I learned the hard way, guests are not supposed to operate themselves). Where they serve tea in the afternoon, they serve gin in the evenings, alongside live renditions of the Cranberries’ hits.
So much Cranberries, by the way.
As unavoidable as the Guinness Bread, if not more.
I feel I should also mention the smell of the spa; my best friend mulled over a body lotion purchase and decided against it; she wants the scent to be hers forever and it might have to wait until Christmas but I’ll find a way to make it hers!
I am a huge fan of the movie, Saltburn (controversial, I know). Okay, it was filmed in England, yes, but a girl only gets to stay in a castle so many times in her life! I manifested my crooked fairytale with an alarming number of “Murder on the Dancefloor” Spotify plays and an amateur family photoshoot on the grounds before our final dinner on property.
In what felt like the blink of my eyes, we had to leave the castle *insert extra sad face* and its warm staff behind. It was time to head to Dublin, again by bus, for some Florida State Football.
We stayed at the College Green hotel near Trinity College, perfectly situated close to anywhere we may need to be. On gameday a private party bus parked just steps from the entrance to our hotel and transported us to Aviva stadium, where we would watch our beloved Seminoles start their season with an unexpected loss. The sun shone and although someone drastically underestimated how many vodka-sodas American football fans can drink, the bar never ran out of Guinness and club level was not an uncomfortable place to watch us lose.
Some hours before kickoff, too early a start time for many, our group embarked on a bike tour of sorts. Have you ever seen those bar benches on wheels, with a head cyclist at the front and two rows of mimosa-drinking pretend-pedaling degenerates in tow? That kind of bike tour! The kind that stops at various bars around town! The kind where, by the end of the hour, no one bothers to move their legs except the guy at the front but it’s okay because I’m pretty sure the bike pedals at my feet are just for show anyway…
In the days leading up to the game itself, we made sure to properly acquaint ourselves with Dublin. We toured the Irish whiskey museum, the Guinness museum, the Jameson museum… the Irish are great sports about the drunken image they present to the world — and they capitalize on it!
By the third distillery/brewery/history-of-whiskey tour in three days, some of us went for coffees and flower shopping instead…
The art of a holiday and the coordination it takes to satisfy each person in a group is difficult, sometimes unexpectedly so. Group travel is teaching me to laugh and lead and lead with laughter, if nothing else.
And being a Florida State Football fan is teaching me the meaning of true loyalty… if nothing else.
I will be honest and tell you that by the end of the trip, I did not want to see another potato for days and I swore I’d never again try a car bomb — who invented that anyway?! And in my honesty, I will also say that I would, if I could, for obvious reasons, stay at least one more night at Ashford Castle.
As much as I love the sunshine, as much as I’ve made a case for the significance of weather, I know that rain and wind and cold temperatures can’t keep me from exploring new places.
I am constantly challenged traveling.
When I was still studying visual arts in high school, my instructor had us not only critique final works but also reflect on the actual process of creating each piece. What went well and what didn’t? What surprised you? I realized over the course of many semesters that none, not one, of my finished works ever looks exactly how I imagined they might in my mind; it didn’t mean they were bad, really.
I learned, quickly, that the work of creating, like travelling, is mostly in the doing. Much like my ideas of what I might create, my ideas of what exist somewhere else in the world, anywhere else, are never 100% accurate. And that’s reason enough to go see for myself what exists out there.
