Old Photos and the Sea

When my cousin Padraig's mother died, she left behind a suitcase full of old photographs. We went through them, finding pictures from across a hundred years. Mixed in are a few photos from my side of the family, as well as pictures from the turn of the century.

I was named after my great-grandmother, Bridget Conlon. I found a black and white photograph with worn edges of her standing in the fields of the family farm, arms crossed, looking off in the distance. The expression on her face embodies her personality, her philosophy, and her life. It is a look of strength and dignity, in the face of poverty and loss.

I also saw a photo of me as a baby. My mom dressed my sister and me the same way throughout my childhood...

We went out fishing again, this time around to the other side of the cliffs. We could see people hiking along the top, so tiny I could barely catch them on my camera. The sea was much choppier, and they had a lot of trouble catching anything. I had no problem with that.

On the way back across the bay, my cousin let me drive. Flying parallel to the swells, so that the boat was always pulling out to sea, I struggled to keep a course as we zoomed along. Almost airborne at times, darting among the waves, I was sure the boat would flip. When we stopped, my cousin Gerry teased me endlessly. Apparently it was quite bouncy in the back of the boat...

A Drive, a Pint (or 3) and the Family Farm

One of my cousin's uncles, Danny, offered to take me for a drive along the coast. He's retired, so it was as much fun for him as me. We saw pretty coastal towns, islands, Croagh Patrick (famous mountain in Ireland), and a beautiful valley of large hills around a fjord. We had a pint at a pub where some movie called The Field was filmed. This is a new thing for me, this alcohol at lunch idea.

Speaking of that, my inability to drink like an Irishman made me a bit of a joke with the family. I started off with that pint of Guinness the first night, and quickly was banned from Guinness for the rest of the trip because I drank too slowly. The next night, I managed just over three pints of cider, and by the third night, I finally got to four. So damn proud of myself. Anyone who told me not to try to compete must be shaking their heads at this moment. No worries, Anne put an end to the pubbing quickly.

My cousin Padraig took me out to the family farm, where my grandmother grew up. It is about twenty minutes from Ballina. She lived in a tiny stone cottage during the time when Ireland was very poor. I have heard the stories a thousand times, but to actually see the place was powerful. And, I saw the wall where a very old picture of my grandmother with her family was taken. Just like the others who have come to visit, my cousin took a picture of me standing at the same wall.

A Vegan Goes Fishing

My mother's family lives in Ballina, a town just west of Sligo. My cousin Gerry drove all the way to Shannon to pick me up at the airport. On the way back, I asked about Ireland's economy and education system, the role of the church and the recent sex abuse scandals, and the history of my family. I stayed with my other cousin Padraig, and his wife. After dinner, we went to the Merry Monk for a pint. There were about 5 people in the whole pub, and Padraig knew all of them. I had a pint of Guinness with black currant, in the time my cousin drank about three pints of some other beer.


Thursday, I went for a long walk through the woods near the house. They used to be part of the grounds of a nearby manor/castle (which one depends on who you talk to).


When my cousins got back from work, we all piled into the car to head to Ballyglass, about an hour's drive away, because one of my cousins has a cottage there, next to Broad Haven Bay. They own a little boat, and absolutely love to go fishing. Wanting to be flexible, I went along.

I was there to see the sunset. The water was perfectly calm, and we floated along next to those west Irish cliffs. You could see layers and layers of stone where the ocean is washing it away; there are caves and crags, with birds nesting and maybe even a sheep climbing along the top.

I sat at the end of the boat, avoiding the bloodshed. But I oddly felt comfortable, because we were all faced with a choice to take life: I declined to participate, but even though my cousins were killing fish, at least they knew what they were doing. Many people eat in blindness.

After awhile, it became my job to put the small fish back (I think my cousins were trying to find common ground). As soon as you let the fish go, it darts away, going from stillness to speed is remarkable to watch. I had a bit of trouble picking one up: it was flopping and slipping out of my hands, and by the time I got it, I just sort of flipped it up out of the boat. Endlessly teased by the guys for being cruel to fish...


As we were heading back in, the sun was setting, powerfully red and pink and reflecting along the water. I didn't take a picture, because my cousins were teaching me how to drive the boat.

Bristol

I feel like my last post was long and boring, so I'll try to keep it short.

I took a bus and three trains to get to Bristol, England, from Wales. I was visiting my friend I met in Paris who goes to Bristol University. After settling in, making dinner, and chatting for awhile, we went out to a pub called The Woods for some amazing cider. That's when you know you're in England: twenty something different kinds of hard cider, and that may only be the beginning. After roughing it for the weekend, I have to admit that it was a huge relief to take a shower and put on a skirt (washed all of my clothes, so I borrowed some).

We slept in on Wednesday. A history professor at Bristol University is the primary researcher and historian on the development of modern witchcraft and earth religions. He has written some dense, detailed books on its history, when other historians ignore the subject. My friend and I went down to his office, but he wasn't there, so I wrote a note and stuck it under his door. Whether the note gets blown away under a bookshelf, or something, I don't know, but it was fun to try. Then, we had a barbecue in the park, with a view of the town. I got some new travel pants, which helps so much, and we managed to get a few more drinks in at a nearby pub before going to bed.

Thursday, I caught the bus to the airport after a vegan milkshake. It was lovely to spend time with my friend, and to truly relax and get a little bit of my life sorted out. I'll be back in Bristol next week, on my way to Italy.

The Sun and the Sea in Newport

The family I stayed with in Newport (a small town on the coast, in Pembrokeshire, Wales) was a little nutty. With four kids (17, 12, 7, and 4), the house was absolutely overflowing with toys and general stuff; they function in comfortable chaos. After dinner, the youngest two, girls that are constantly playing and laughing, and their parents walked with me down to the harbor. The sun was beginning to set, reflecting on the water that was dotted with boats. I had no idea that something so beautiful was minutes from their door.

When they were ready to turn back after sitting for awhile on the pier, I decided to stay and watch the sunset. I realized that having the time to watch the sun fully go down, to sit with it for at least an hour and half, was something I had never done before. The family went home, and I sat, waiting, on a bench. People would come and go, pausing for a moment, but no one lingered aside from a painter sketching near me. Most that came by were elderly, and I wonder if they are the only ones with the time, or some wisdom that comes from life, to go see the sun set.

About an hour later, clouds covered the sun and the night became quite cold, so I returned to the house for a few hours sleep. I crashed on a mattress in the oldest son's room, who was not home. Clearly in love with pot, there was graffiti all over the walls, and posters of Bob Marley.

I woke up before 4 am, had a cup of tea, put on all the clothes I have with me, and left to watch the sun rise. Sunday was the summer solstice. I took the long way, across the bridge, and around the other side of the estuary, so that I could sit on the beach to watch the sun come up. The colors were completely different from the night before (though really only a few hours had passed), a lighter blue of dawn. I fell asleep on the beach around 5:30; I returned to the house around 7:30, and fell asleep.

Later on Sunday, the family invited me to a summer solstice party on the beach. I got a lift there with a couple of their friends because their car was full. We drove along winding roads, through the countryside, with only a few houses here and there. We parked on the side of the lane, and walked down the coastal path to the stony beach nestled in a cove. It was like being slammed by the astounding beauty as we came over the little hill, with the beach below us and the cliffs in full view. The water was perfection, with the setting sun's reflection falling like a lane splitting the cove in two. I can't believe I am making a Lord of the Ring's reference, but it actually looked like the bay in one of the final scenes of The Return of the King, when Frodo joins the elves. It seemed unreal.

The group gathered to celebrate the solstice ranged from 4 to 70 something years old. It began with a silent walk through the woods, in meditation. At the very end, we came up through some fields, at a slight incline. Because of the angle, it felt as if we were taking a path right up to the sea and sky. Down on the beach, we had a picnic, sat around a fire, and people shared music and stories. The sun was setting in its perfection, as the group sang British folk songs. One man in particular had a rolling, beautiful voice (he also told stories), and entertained the group with songs in Welsh.

After the sun set, and the stars were coming out, I got a ride back to the family's house with their same friends. The night sky rolled by as we drove by the fields, while another woman in the car explained the proper way to hitchhike. Something I will not try, so no worries.

Was up until 3 am, because two of the parents' friends came over. The four of them were hilarious, as they teased each other about dating sites and facebook (which seemed like quite a new thing for them).

How Wales Changes People

After checking out a yurt (Mongolian tent) with my Lammas host, he gave me a lift into Crymych to catch a bus to Newport, Pembrokeshire. The only problem was that I had the bus time wrong, and missed it. Only because I had stopped for a few minutes in the library of a town on the way to Lammas, and the bus website had some glitch so the text was miniscule. With my face against the screen I attempted to make out the time, and clearly, I was wrong by twenty minutes.

Since it was Wales, where buses come maybe once a day, and only one direction sometimes, the next bus was in three hours. I was delighted that there was another bus at all. At this moment I realized that my sense of time and distance had shifted a bit. My Lammas host asked if I wanted to come back to the land in the meantime, and I said I could just wait there in case another bus came. I didn't trust the posted schedule, because another bus going the other direction had not come at its allotted time. My Lammas host headed off, after I promised to let him know what happened. I called my next CS host in Newport. He suggested that I hitch or walk to Eglwyswrw, a town four miles away, where he could pick me up. Or wait for the next bus. Again, another shift in thought from Chicago life: I looked at the sign saying four miles, and thought "No problem. I'll walk." I wasn't going to hitchhike, and after long walks every day, it didn't seem that unreasonable. But my Lammas host called at the moment where I was collecting my bags to head off, because another Lammas family was able to give me a lift. A mom with three kids and a dog; I jumped in and chatted with them all the way to Cardigan in their bio-fuel car because they had to make it to the laundry shop before it closed. They dropped me off at Eglwyswrw on the way back, where I sat for awhile before the bus came to take me to Newport.

I was just happy to make it to the town that day, instead of being worried or stressed about how I was getting there. In Wales, I found an abundance of patience, whether through a long walk along the coast, quiet meditation in front of a fire, or taking all afternoon to go ten miles.

Lammas Friday

Friday morning, on my way to Aberystwyth to meet my friend for a lift down to Cardigan, I called one of the Lammas organizers, who I had contacted earlier. Lammas is the name of an eco-village project near Glandwr (inland Wales in Pembrokeshire). Maybe 40 minutes from the coast, not sure. At the moment, it is a collection of fields because the Welsh government is dragging their feet about giving them planning permission (for buildings). A group of nine families, most with children, own the land. They have begun infrastructure, planting trees, etc. They hope to build eco-friendly straw bale houses, and eventually develop sources of income like orchards and crafts. Anyway, the Lammas guy invited me to come see the land because a few of them had been camping out, working on the projects. So I completely changed my plans, and instead of going along the coast, I went to see Lammas.

The grass has finally been allowed to grow in the fields after years of grazing. Imagine meadows with waving grass, trees growing along the borders, and a mill pond with geese and little islands. Tiny trees pop up where they have begun to lay out their plans. String marks out where buildings will go, and little things here and there are done. We took a tour of the land, and I heard the plans. Cooked dinner over the fire, and sat, keeping it going, as my host finished up chopping wood. I sat, past sunset, alone by the fire, entirely focused on it in meditation. As I walked back to the tent, I paused in shock as I came out of the wood, into the meadow, because it was so open that you could see the entire curving globe of the sky, absolutely full of stars. It was like a planetarium, except, for me, I thought that first instead of recognizing its reality. Thinking of the imitation instead of the real, because I was more likely to see a planetarium than the full night sky. Stood in silent awe.

The next morning after breakfast, I walked to the lower edge of the meadow because I had seen a large oak tree. I climbed up on the grassy wall, and sat beneath a sycamore, a hawthorn, and the oak. I meditated beneath the trees, sitting nestled between their roots. I sang (some of you may never believe this), because there was no one around. After awhile, as I leaned with my back against the old oak, singing a song my meditation teacher taught me a year ago, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye in the ajoining meadow. Two large brown horses were standing, watching me, and soon joined by another. They were still a bit of distance away, but were watching me, ears pricked up. I paused, then continued to sing, and they came closer. As long as I kept singing (again, you may not believe this), they came closer and closer, until their heads reached over the fence and I was allowed to touch their noses. They lingered for awhile, losing interest, and then returning if I sang again. Very, very skittish, so I had to move oh so slowly. I think they stayed for at least ten, fifteen minutes, maybe longer. Then my foot slipped off the wall, and the horse nearest was startled, so they meandered away.

Never having charmed horses before, it was quite an experience.

Lammas was all I had hoped it would be: beautiful, with a kind energy and good people. Having followed their progress, keeping the project in the back of mind for over a year, I felt as if the journey was complete in a way. Whether I return or not, this opportunity was a special moment for me.

Even the rain is beautiful. Everything is green and misty, as if the colors become more vibrant. I walked along the road yesterday, on my way to the Center for Alternative Technology, following a winding river surrounded by moss-covered trees. It can only be described as fairy land. Almost impossible to believe its beauty, something that happens every day here. And I saw tipis, because there is a hippie group nearby that live in them.

I have become close friends with my couchsurfing host. I was supposed to move on after one night here in Corris, a village near Machynlleth, but soon decided to stay, which now has turned into four nights. Wales is a land full of magic, mixed in with eco-friendliness and sheep. Ancient trees, hawks and ravens, and rolling green hills. The coast is not far, with rocky or sandy beaches, coves, and cliffs. It is a little bit like Maine, actually, with the beach towns made for the summer. But these little towns still have several health food stores, libraries, fair trade everything and farmer's markets. The bread is the best I've ever eaten, and I've had a lot of bread in Europe. In fact, we've eaten quite well, cooking lots of vegetables and various forms of tofu. Every night becomes its own celebration, mixed in with walks through the hills and stargazing. Tomorrow, I hope to visit the old oak trees one more time, before heading down to Pembrokeshire for the weekend (still Wales, just a different bit).

It has been a spiritual experience, being in Wales. I am learning more about myself every day, and as I experience, I settle deeper within myself, a tiny bit more knowledgable. I hope I can carry these lessons with me when I leave.

I have already become used to this little amazing part of the world, and it will be difficult to say goodbye.

Sunny Tuesday in Wales

For some reason, the weather is beautiful in the rainiest part of Britain. I got a lift to Aberystwyth this morning with my couchsurfing host/ new friend; after wandering around a bit I found the library. After poking through the old books, reading Welsh fairie stories and King Arthur tales, I found tofu in one of the two health food stores. I love how eco-friendly this country is.

Eating lunch on the beach, I saw dolphins playing in the water. First time that I have ever seen one. They lingered for awhile before leaving, and eventually I continued to walk up the beach, over the large rocks covered in light rings and patterns, towards the coast path.

I walked for five miles, following a tiny footpath up and down the cliffs, through meadows and by sheep, from Aberystwyth to Borth. I would stop on the edge of the cliff, and sit among the wildflowers, and just watch the waves crash far below. If you look straight ahead, you can't see the earth, just ocean and sky. As if you're flying. At several moments throughout the day I could only throw my hands up to the sky in awe of the earth's beauty, unable to find words.

Loving Wales

Spent most of the day on the trains from Glasgow, but it was lovely to see the countryside roll by.

Having an amazing time with my new couchsurfing host, so I am staying here for a little bit longer. Here is Corris, a little town in central Wales. It is absolutely beautiful. Went for a walk after dinner along the trails near the farms in the hills. Beautiful little house that is hundreds of years old (used to be a post office) with a little bridge over the creek. Can't believe how beautiful it is here.

Going to spend the next few days exploring the coast, but will be staying here with my new friend.

Going to go watch the stars come out.

Sunday in Glasgow

Today, I met up with my two new American friends, some crazy hilarious guys from West Virginia, after picking up a new British phone that has an international deal. The three of us went to the West End Festival, a huge thing going on right now with music, performances, and food. Meandered through the park, listened to music here and there, and saw the parade. Let me say this about the Scottish: they are not shy. Strangest costumes I've seen in one place (aside from NYC on Halloween). Mushroom hats, storm troopers, fairies, a crowd of people in banana costumes, tons of strange colors and sequins, and a huge amount of belly dancers. Women of all shapes, sizes, and ages dancing through the crowd barely dressed.

Listened to bag pipers. Lots of bagpipers.

Met up with my couchsurfing host, a young Scottish film producer living here in Glasgow. Chatted for a long time over dinner, and now heading to bed.

Going to try to keep up with this blogging thing so that I remember what I do. Going to Wales in the morning.

Glasgow

This is the first day of my summer journey. I thought I would try to blog as much as possible, mostly because I feel like I will lose stories if I don't write often. Even though I do feel like I am talking to air...

Almost missed my bus this morning. I have always had trouble packing when I make huge life shifts. After asking someone if I could follow him through the ticket machines at the metro this morning, I wasn't quite fast enough and my backpack got caught on the doors. He stood there and watched me tug and tug, and finally launch myself out from the doors. Made it all the way to Scotland without a problem; the airport was much easier than last time. Though, at customs, apparently "going on an epic journey" is not a clear enough response after being asked where I am traveling after the UK.

Found my hostel, already have two new friends (American backpackers). Sorting out life.

Germany

My friend and I traveled through Germany during our five day break last weekend. I started to learn a little bit of German the day before we left. I picked up a couple of new words, and was able to recognize enough to get us around. I loved the little challenge of a new language. The farther we were away from the tourist towns, the less English was spoken. Used charades when all else failed.

Thursday morning, after staying up all night, I met him at the train station. Around 10:45, we arrived in Cologne; we walked around a little and then headed down to Bonn. There, after a little confusion, we met up with my friend who was in my language class in Paris. We dropped our things off at his apartment, then went out on a tour of Bonn with his bikes. This moment was one of my favorites: riding along behind my German friend through the back streets of a little city. I knew that I was really there. After seeing buildings and fountains, talking about politics and the upcoming election, we bought some vegetables at the market. Back at the apartment, my friend and I cooked dinner. A little bit of trouble with the stove (a problem we would encounter in every apartment), and a lot of cooking style conflicts later, we had a wonderful meal. Exhausted, we went to bed.

Friday, our friend gave us a ride to Neuwied, the town where he worked. From there, we caught a train to Koblenz, then another to Braubach (after missing our stop and having to double back). We picked up some vegetables and terrible wine, then climbed a little trail up the hill to the Marksburg castle. I lingered, taking pictures, while my friend launched ahead. At the top, we had a picnic next to the castle, overlooking the Rhine river. The only way to go inside is to have a tour guide. We were supposed to take a tour in German, but we were the only people, so our kind tour guide decided to do it in English. The castle is enormous, intact, and roughly 700 years old. It has been lived in continuously since its construction. We walked through the entryway, in and around the different buildings built at different periods. We saw the cannons, the batiments, and the gardens. We walked through little rooms and through tiny staircases. Asking a ton of questions, we saw things I have only read about in stories. Suits of armor, treasure chests, a smithy, a "torture" chamber, and a large, old kitchen. It was incredible. Afterward, we bought postcards, and mailed them from the castle. We were interrupted by a cute goat that walked up to the fence; we named him BG for biergarten (beer garden), and fed him a peach.

We tried to catch a boat, to go down the Rhine a little, but it didn't stop where it was supposed to. So, we lingered in Kaub, another little town, watching the water float by. We skipped stones and counted ducks. Actually, we had an intense castle counting game going on all day. Castles dot the hills along the Rhine river; whoever spotted them first got a point. I was in the lead for awhile, but my friend eventually won by two. Since one was a tower, and another was tiny, I think we tied.

After missing a train due to un-announced changes (though we were helped by many Germans), we made it down to Speyer, a town relatively close to the Black Forest. We met up with our first host, a young woman who recently graduated from college. She speaks fluent English and French. We chatted and cooked; her apartment was quite nice. After we ate, we went out into the city, because there was a festival going on. We saw a few of the monuments, went to an impressive art gallery, and listened to music while drinking real German beer.

Saturday, we took a train into the Black Forest, to a town at the western edge of the Central bit of the forest, called Offenburg. The tourist office was closed (another common problem), and even though I had the right information, I got turned around. Instead of working harder to find out where we were, we chilled in a park. Finally, we found bikes we could borrow for free, and went out towards the hills of the forest. We biked through the vineyards and the little towns. We definitley stood out, and one old German man who spoke no English asked if we were lost. I am convinced we had a full conversation with this man without a common language. Between my little German, acting things out, and deciphering what he might mean, we managed to explain that we were coming from Offenburg on bikes (he gave us accurate directions to go back), and asked about a street nearby. We continued on, along the hill where we could see the valley with the Rhine and the towns below us. Absolutely gorgeous, and the rain didn't ruin a thing.

We made it down to Lahr, a town near Offenburg, to meet our next host who was 19 and lived in a flat with her best friends. She was a lot of fun, with two cute pet rats and a large place next to the train station. She cooked us vegetarian German food: potatoe-y balls and salad, with beer, of course. We talked for awhile, then went to a hookah bar, then out to the nightclub where she works. The music was pounding so much that our chairs shook, and there were lights flashing, and a fog machine. The two of us were so tired we fell asleep. So we went back to her place to crash. In the morning, we decided to take a later train, so we could listen to some German music and talk.

At this point, it was Sunday. We took a train down to Freiburg, the largest town in the Black Forest. After exploring a little (another closed tourist office) and eating falafel, we found Freiburg University, where Martin Heidegger used to teach. After a photo shoot with my book on Heidegger, we found a place to rent bikes. We rode along the little river in town, where there are trees and parks, people out walking or lounging around. We fell asleep beneath some trees until it began to rain. We took cover, along with a man who was practicing tight-rope walking. We had a picnic underneath the eaves of a building nearby.

After racing to get our bikes back on time, we took the train for a few minutes out to Freiburg-Luttenweiler, where we met our last hosts. A tattoo-artist couple, they welcomed us immediately, offering their home as ours. They had bought vegetables, not knowing what exactly we would eat, so we started cooking dinner. They ran out to get more beer. More trouble with the stove and a little creativity brought what I consider to be a good meal. After dinner, we rode bikes (I finally rode on the back of a bike, if only for a few feet) down to the little river. We drank beer on a park bench and chatted, watching the water flow by. Then we biked over to their tattoo shop, where we looked at their work and asked questions. They are truly both quite talented. Too tired to keep going, we went back to their place.

In the morning, after promising to come back to visit again, we took a train to Kirchzarten, a few minutes away. From there, we took a local bus into the Black Forest, through the valleys, and climbed up, up to Todtnauberg, where Heidegger had a little cottage. The view was incredible, with little houses dotting the hills, towns nestled among lines of trees, and everything was intensely green. We arrived at this village on the top of one of the hills. It is a skiing town, so of course there weren't really any tourists there at the moment. But it meant that they did have a little grocery store, and a hotel where we were able to get directions to Heidegger's cottage. We climbed through the town, past the houses and up to the very top of the rather large hill. Below, we could see the houses and the trees. A lot of trees. We followed a path through the fields, to a tiny trail through the brush, then across a meadow to his cottage. We saw the fountain outside that he wrote about, and walked around the little place. There, he wrote Being and Time.

After a picnic, we headed down, back to the bus stop; after a little confusion, and nearly losing my friend because he was asking someone when the bus pulled up, we went to Basel, Switzerland, to catch the train back to Paris.

Paris Life

I've spent the past couple of weeks finishing up classes, traveling a bit, and savoring the last few moments in Paris. I'm leaving tomorrow, beginning my summer journey. I'm leaving my suitcase in Paris with my host family, and heading to Scotland. The weather has been just as beautiful as I would want it to be right up to the end. I visited a few of my favorite places in the last couple of days, taking pictures and finishing up errands. We had a final dinner together as the study abroad group: laughed a lot, ate well, and drank by the Seine.

Paris became normal, my home. I am used to the language, the lifestyle, and the people. Well, as much as one can get used to such a foreign place. But, I feel that it was not as difficult to learn from the French as some people claim. I hope to carry some lessons with me: "C'est Paris" as an explanation for everything, to love parks and little dogs, to put my bread on the table and drink tiny coffees, but also to be just the right (often strangely chosen) amount of expression. And speak quickly.