I’ve been walking and cabbing and busing and training and flying my way across five countries over the last thirteen days…
…and yes, maybe I should have started this blog days ago when I started on this trip to attend Euro Pride Con in Amsterdam.
But we’re here now… in Ireland at the tail end of the journey. Euro Pride Con deserves its own blog, as does Iceland, and Surrey England, and the flight over that was diverted to Edmonton Canada due to some issues with servicing our plane at SFO.
But Ireland holds an extra special place in the hearts of many Americans reaching for a connection with their roots, and with writers in general who both revel in the mythical and poetic nature of its people, and the great contributions the Irish make through its literature, and music, and art.
For me it’s not the castles and fortifications that speak loudest, it’s ‘as Gaeilge’ spoken on the streets by young and old, woven among the English pervading a culture that spans thousands of years.
There is joy in the sea, in the fields of grain, the swaying of the Wild Carrot, the floral breeze. And while the sun has been beating hot and relentless turning roadsides brown enough to mimic California, it hasn’t melted the charm of the island or its people. LE