GALWAY GIRL

Wednesday, December 09, 2015
Galway, Connaught, Ireland
Two days after my mother's departure I trained over to the west side of Ireland to Galway. A harbor city, Galway sits on the rushing River Corrib where it rapidly meets the Atlantic. The original fort dates back to 1124 and there are many parts of the city where the original medieval walls are still in use. Galway also has its own origin myth about how it got its name. The mythic version tells of a local chieftain, Breasail, whos daughter, Gaillimh (Galvia), drowned in the river. Distraught with grief, Breasail set up camp to keep her spirit company. Over the years the town sprung up around the sad, small encampment and became known as Áit Gaillimhe (Galway's Place). The city also bears the nickname "City of Tribes," which honors the fourteen "tribes" of merchant families that led the city in its Hiberno-Norman period. Tribes was a derogatory term during the Cromwellian period of rule, and the families adopted the slur as a title of honor to defy their occupier. 

Even before I arrived in Ireland, I knew I wanted to visit Galway . Its location on the sea, brightly colored houses and traditional music and art, had always piqued my interest. Once again blessed with traveling in the off season, I rented a fabulously modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows with views of the bay and beyond for next to nothing. Clean, stylish and in a great location - I felt quite cosmopolitan. The first two days I spent walking through the narrow, festive streets exploring. Galway is full of great food, cozy pubs and traditional music is indeed prolific. There was a small Christmas market in Eyer Square, the center of town, which was cheerful but often deserted. Cheap apartments and Christmas lights are wonderful, but it would be nice to see Ireland at its touristy glory bustling with people. Galway is definitely one I'd like to return to. 

As far from Chicago as this little seaside town is, it throws down in the competition for the title of the windy city. The west coast of Ireland bears the brunt of the the storms rolling in off the Atlantic - gifting this region with the designation of "the windy and wet west ." I got to experience this first hand when the storm Desmond rolled through. Basically overnight the charming little town was completely shut down by gael force winds up to 40 mph and the lovely phenomenon of horizontal rain. You cannot escape horizontal rain. Walking to the launderette across the street soaked me to the bone, sticking my clothes to me and making rain drop off my eyelashes. This occurred in less than 4 minutes. I am so glad I arrived before the storm to witness the city. After those initial two days, the rest of my stay was spent mostly indoors. 

One of the largest tourist attractions in Ireland are the Cliffs of Moher. The cliffs are located in just southwest of the Burren region in County Clare and at their highest reach 800 feet above the crashing sea. The cliffs are an iconic image of Ireland and have been used in all types of media. Nothing you see on television, or in a publication can prepare you for the majestic wonder that they instill. I booked a tour leaving from Galway that toured through the gorgeous, rugged country that is the west coast. That morning was a dreary one - which deeply disappointed me. I had booked the tour on the hedgy bet on sun that the weather app shadily promised. Waking up to rain put a damper on my excitement to see the cliffs, as it is difficult to enjoy treks with one's hood up, not to mention the clouds and wet that get in the way of beautiful vistas. I loaded onto the bus and sat down in a midst of people that seemed to all be around my age . We started chatting about the crappy weather and soon discovered that we were all Americans apart from one rogue Aussie. This was interesting as I really have not come across many other Americans this trip. It was nice to have a slice of familiarity. This was also the day after the San Bernardino shooting, so we had a lot to discuss. In the hour it took to get to our lunch spot we were fast friends. 

To our surprise and delight, when we emerged from the dark O'connell pub THERE WAS SUN. Glorious, divine, bright sunshine pouring down, piercing the clouds and bathing the whole landscape in warm butter. We all squealed with joy and prayed that it held out over the next three hours during which we would be on the cliffs. The luck of the little people must have been with us, as it did indeed last through the evening. I am beyond grateful to whatever powers above or around blessed us with this gift, as it made this experience by far the best of my entire trip. 

Approaching the cliffs, you really don't see them until you park and walk up to the visitors entrance . You round a corner and there they are - appearing suddenly as if a curtain has been lifted. Dark slices of shale and sandstone that show 300-million year-old river channels running through, stretching endlessly down the coast. Your brain has trouble computing that the vision before you is real and not a Hollywood background. With the sun shining, the colors are fantastic. The deep emerald grass leads you up to the edge, where the ebony cliff faces lead your gaze down into the churning, frothy, whipped turquoise of the sea. Meanwhile, the gray-tinged wisps of white cloud race above you, near enough to catch and taste - filling your senses with sea salt and ocean brine. Gulls and the odd estimated 30,000 birds that call the cliffs home fill the air with shrieks and calls and dive in and out of the clouds and plummet to the sea, making your stomach drop and your hands sweat as you try to follow their path with your eyes. While the sun was shining, the muck underfoot reminded us that it has been raining quite heavily, making the trek up to the top ... interesting. You have an option to walk behind a makeshift wall that is about 50 to 70 feet away from the edge, or to taunt death with a slick path that is often just a few feet away from cliffs. Being a band of daring travelers, we chose the near death trek. Even in dry weather, this pathway made for idiots would be daunting. Try it with clunky boots and mud soup and no traction. Even thinking about it makes my palms tingle. One of our group, Chris, had no fear and like a billy goat clambered about on the edge, often flinging rocks out into the open space to only loose them in the more than 8 seconds it took them to fall. I couldn't stand too close to him as it made my knees shake. Every few steps we all stood in mere wonder and tried to capture this marvel with our cameras. There is no image in the world that can adequately capture this incredible place on earth. Experiencing the cliffs alone would have been incredible, but to add in the excellent company of my new found friends made it so much better. Experiencing things with others is lovely - knowing that they too are seeing what you're seeing, to have someone else there to tell you that it is indeed real ... to actually have someone else take your photo! 

After we departed the cliffs, our bus driver and tour guide drove us to what's known as the "Mini Cliffs of Moher" - much smaller cliffs that have a perfect view of their larger namesake. Instead of mud, they had a much preferred table top of pocked stone leading up to their edge. Firmly planted we witnessed the giant glowing orb of sun slowly slip into the Atlantic, splashing a myriad of colors on the puddles at our feet. Purple, gold, blush, indigo, rose... the molten pools mirrored the canvas of clouds above and created the sense of being suspended inside a bubble - oily colors swirling above and below and around us. A truly divine moment and one I will never forget. It was a glorious day, and as I mentioned above, honestly the best day of my trip. 
 
Sadly all of my new American friends were returning to Dublin that night, which left me with that rogue Aussie, Naomi. We agreed to get together later for drinks and music after a bit of a lie down and food. We had a lovely time out, and spent the next two days together getting to know each other and weathering Desmond. We went to the movies during the height of the storm, and I kid you not, the glass walls of the complex were visibly flexing in front of us from the wind. It was pretty incredible. As is Naomi! What a gem - she's an incredibly smart woman with a bright future ahead of her. She's only 21 but wise beyond her years and we had quite a few intellectual and spiritual discussions where I took more than one new idea away. She was delightful company and I hope we stay in contact in the years to come. 

Naomi and I both departed Galway on the same day, her headed up to Belfast, and I to Dublin, where I plan to settle for the rest of my stay. I come home in just a few short weeks. It doesn't seem possible that I'm winding down to the end of my journey, but on the other hand it feels as though I've been gone forever. I'm looking forward to enjoying a more relaxed schedule in Dublin, soaking in the city and not having the need (or want) to see something new every few days. I've hunkered down in yet another lovely Airbnb this time in the Dock Lands, a modern and new area full of start ups and home to Google and Facebook's offices. I'm staying with an incredibly kind and international couple, both of whom work for Google. The ever-present reminder of Christmas is everywhere - every street is full of twinkling lights and festive music. I do love how festive Europe is when it comes to the holidays! It makes me eager to get home to my own friends and family to celebrate. Until then, happy holidays to one and all. 

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