Day in Kenmare (Aug 18th)

This morning, we slept in, and after some confusion over a water hose that needed to be turned off and losing electricity for awhile, we wandered out of the house, back to town.

But before, I was able to go for a walk by the water, which I accessed through a little path behind the house. Fog was descending over the mountains, the green-patched hills rolled in the distance, and the water gently rolled over the stones and massive piles of deep green seaweed. The coast is quite unlike any other, much more rugged and stony, almost desolate yet alive.

Since I had borrowed my host's Wellies, I was able to muck through the mossy woods to stand on a small stone slab laid over a creek. I saw the water flow beneath my feet, stumbling over rocks, and making its way towards the sea. I realized that I was looking at something, that famous bit of Irish countryside, that I had only actually seen in movies and pictures. It seemed so odd that I could be separated from it for most of my life, and stood there, in the quiet wood, trying to remember how much time I had spent outdoors in my childhood. How strange it was to live in the city.