Fierce Irish Winds

Having just returned from Ireland, I have much to say. Though I want to keep myself from rushing into a flurry of poorly chosen words to describe my week in Ireland. That would be far too easy; to simply go day by day and retell a rushed version of my experiences. I almost don’t want to talk about the actual events, because they are not what left me feeling like I do. I feel like I can’t do the feelings justice.

The country was glorious and gray. For the first time in all my travels, I found that the actual place was what I feel in love with. Other times I enjoy a place, like here in Hungary, but it’s not that I really feel the presence of the country. In Hungary it’s more that I love what I have here, and what I do: My wonderful apartment, my spirited friend Seren, my curious classes at the college, Gelato and fries at the mall, Baking muffins, cooking my own meals (which can hardly be called meals), runs by the Danube River, and late nights watching TCM. I love what has come together here, and I love what I have managed to make for myself.

But in Ireland I was filled with completely new feelings. It was really the country itself that made me smile ceaselessly as I looked out the windows. The feelings were specific. It was not just rain, it was the Irish rain that gave me Goosebumps; the stretches of endless green flashing past the windows of the train; the snatches of conversations in sweet, musical accents; the gaping cliffs of Moher; the howling ocean winds that tossed sea fluff into the skies; tumbled old castles; my echoing footsteps in ancient halls that survived long past their prime; the dank caves set low and secret beneath the earth.

There is one image especially, that sits high above the others. It happened while I sat transfixed at the bus window. We were driving steadily to Galway from Cork City even though the rain was pounding tirelessly against the glass. The bus slowed as we came into a small town, and finally stopped for a few moments behind a line of cars. The change in motion jostled me back to awareness and I focused on the scene before me. Suddenly, at that moment I realized how much this place touched me. I realized how much everything here had touched me. I realized that it was this whole place that seemed to leave me brimming with wonder. I immediately snatched up my diary and scribbled down as best I could, the simple sight that triggered such strong emotions.

Word for word my diary reads, “sitting on the bus to Galway I am filled with such love for this country. I look out the window at the tiny town square and see an aged statue of a king who forever holds his coronation scepter, and wears his moss-covered crown. I see puddles in the streets vibrating with the pelting raindrops. As I try to read the signs of colorful pubs and shops, the letters above the doorways swell and shiver as the rain crawls down the glass and obscures my vision…”

It was such a simple image that made such a strong impression on me. But I think it was just this that made it powerful: simplicity. It was so charming to me because it was something normal, but I was endlessly happy to have seen it through eyes that encouraged the moment to enchant me. And it did. I saw the relentless warmth of Ireland that transcended all the chills spiraling in the wind outside.

I do not dare forget to mention the Cliffs of Moher, for they were breathtaking. The cliffs were deep cuts in the earth that dropped 500 feet into the ocean below. I stared out at their brilliance and marvelous at how long I would tumble helplessly in the air if I stepped to close to the edge. The wind was tearing, and rabid today, unlike most Irish mornings. The day before it was so powerful that it blew out the front windshield of a tour bus. I walked along the cliff’s edge (at a safe distance) with Seren and the air pressed against me with such force that I could lean into the wind. I spread out my arms with glee, laughing soundless laughs in the roar and howl of the wind. My ears stung with the press of air against my front, then, suddenly the wind mischievously snuck behind my back and drove me forward. I had to run to keep from getting thrown to the ground. It was a ferocious wind that churned the sea below and lifted the waves into the air. Naïvely, I struggled against the wind thinking I was at least safe from the ocean; it was 500 feet below after all. To my surprise, however, the spray from the sea found me, even if I was just an innocent tourist. By the end of my adventures on the cliffs my hair was a huge tangle around my weather-flushed cheeks, but I was exuberant. I had never seen anything like these cliffs, nothing so majestic, and so raw.

I felt very much like the Irish wind. I think we both live our lives the same way. We live our lives fiercely. We almost live it too powerfully, fighting our way through our obstacles from every angle when we get thrilled or scared. I don’t think either of us really knows where we are going, but where ever we end up is quite an experience. Sometimes we just can’t stop, even if we need to slow down. We are vivid, enthusiastic, and passionate, even though we might not look the part. Think about it, wind is bodiless though it can turn you around with hardly any effort, and sink a boat straight into the sea with a squall that comes out of nowhere. And me? I’m just a silly, slender, energetic little girl… a young woman now, but still new at this world. And yet sometimes I feel obligated to move mountains. I live my life fiercely, wanting to travel, try, and touch all that I can. But sometimes I don’t know which direction I really want to twirl in. I don’t know whether to be strong and fiery, or patient and gentle. I am a walking, flying, windy contradiction. I’ve always fought change, ever since I was a little girl. It’s what my sign says about me too: Taurus. I’m an earth sign and I like to be grounded, with the familiar, sweet-smelling earth beneath my feet. But I’m also like the wind. I love the feel of air, I love to spin and go wild, to graze the treetops, to bend my abilities and test my force, to taste the tricks and wish for the unbelievable, I want to dive and plummet without fear, to race time and win, to live life for it’s beauty and search for the brightest sun to bathe my face in. I’m a fierce one, often lost, who also loves the sweet comforts of grounded, lazy days.