Greener than England?

I have always wanted to go to Ireland – my entire life. I’ve imagined this place, with all the grass, for all the photos I’ve collected of Ireland throughout my life. The history here is rich and different from England’s, although there are overlapping events and moments that bring the countries under one umbrella, probably to the chagrin of some of the Irish.

I had the pleasure of a very long and scenic bus ride yesterday, from Rosslare to Dublin. I’ve written about how green it is in Oxford, but dare I say – it is greener here and I’m not exactly syre how that is. Perhaps there are fewer buildings, and fewer cars. On my ride over, I saw patches of land, much like the fashionable sheepskin coats we see in winter. The lots are separated by neatly cut shrubbery which gives the appearance of pieces of land fitting perfectly together, as if by art. Within each of the patches of grass are five, ten, or fifteen or more mostly black-face white sheep in need of a spring sheering. Some of the sheep were actually numbered; I hope the numbering is not for slaughtering. There were many lambs nursing, and most of the lambs were, as the cliché, “white as fleece,” although some were grey, and fewer were black. Some of the fields contained hcows or horses or a combination of animals.

I noticed that the ravens perch themselves on the sheep – some of them pecking away at the long wooly hair, while the sheep go on about their business grazing or doing nothing. I also noticed that all the headstones we passed (up to the point of losing the sunlight at least) faced one direction very uniformly. I wrote my Irish friend a postcard and asked him about these curiosities.

Once in the miscellaneous cities along the way to Dublin, we wound around in narrow roads and round-abouts that seemed impossible for the large bus were in to navigate around, but our bus driver was quite adept at maneuvering in tight 360 degree circles. Some of the roads almost seemed to bend at a complete 180 degrees backwards. A bus driver I will never be… The cars here are small, like in the U.K., which is good. Each area had its own personality, and I made mental notes with respect to places to visit.

To top things off, people are generally friendly here. When I boarded the bus from Rosslare to Dublin, a doctor started a conversation with me. He was very sociable and we talked for about 30 minutes until he got off at Wexford. He is from Fishguard, which is where my ferry departed from. When I arrived at Ashfield Hostel, I was greeted warmly as well, and my nervousness was put to rest. Despite my tardiness and special request for a single room, everyone accommodated the weary traveler that was me yesterday, in every way.

I walked around this afternoon and found my way to Dublin Castle where I had a cappuccino and an over-sized but delicious scone. I especially enjoy the out-door enclaves that some cafés have. I took time to take in the “feeling” of this café and to write some postcards. As I walked back from Dublin Castle, I back-tracked a narrow cobblestone avenue of bright storefronts to buy some batteries for my camera.

Once outside, I decided to sit down on some steps (alongside scores of people) to listen to the Irish music playing in a pub, to take in some sun, and to rest my legs. I heard a “Hello there,” and turned to find a man addressing me, and then striking up a conversation as casually as if we had spoken previously. He told (or asked) me, “You must have no trouble finding men-folk and all in America, eh?” I decided to leave it at that, rather than to say, “Au contraire…” So a beautiful place and flattery… I couldn’t ask for more! I can hear my family telling me, “Be careful – you’re a tourist and there are a lot of scams out there…” I was nevertheless amused.

As this is only my first real day here, I’m certain that there will be much more to write. For example, a river runs through Dublin and it is a sight to behold! Beautiful bridges tie the two sides of the river together neatly, and there are footpaths tiered beneath the street level along the river. Along these lower tiers, there are cafés and people taking photographs or walking (like me). On the street level, there are more pubs than I can count, and exiting the streets are smaller cobblestone deviations that lead to other layers of shops and restaurants hidden in plain sight almost. I took a lot of photos and will post them online when I get a computer that works.