I’m Not Saying It’s Aliens, But…
For the first week here it was like living inside a really bad carwash. Now, all of a sudden it feels like a day at the beach might be in order.
The last time I saw surfers in Ireland they were wearing wet suits and had blue lips from the cold. Now they might actually get a bit of a tan. No, in Ireland they would just burn to nice pink. No one tans here. Even the immigrants from Kenya are looking a little pale. I fit right in. If I don’t move for a few minutes I find people putting a mirror up to my face to see if I’m breathing.
Whenever there are two days like this – sunny, blue skies, and warmer than a frozen dessert, the locals get suspicious and think that they are being set up. “If such a good thing is happening to us, you just know that the End of Times is here. Kiss your mother goodbye and let’s go have one last pint.”
Me? I’m a visitor. I’ve seen good weather before and I don’t think it’s a bad omen at all. I think it’s time for a picnic – just don’t expect to find real hot dogs anywhere. A countless array of sausages to be sure, but real honest-to-God hot dogs – Nah, ain’t gonna happen. You’d have a better chance of wandering through the Terre Haute Federal Prison and NOT finding an ex-governor of Illinois.
In celebration of this good weather we did two things. On the first day we wished Ellen, one of our co-travelers, “Good Luck” and sent her off to climb a mountain. Not a big mountain, but a mountain nonetheless. She climbed “Croagh Patrick,” which is about 2200 feet. It is a pilgrimage sight with connections to St. Patrick. Many of the more fervent climbers do so, barefoot. Ellen wasn’t fervent enough to do that. She did it relatively unscathed, coming home with a sore knee and tired feet. She neglected to stop at the gift shop (Yes, a mountain with a gift shop.) and pick up her “I climbed Croagh Patrick” T-shirt. If I had climbed it I would want everyone to know it. I have been to the gift shop for a cup of coffee and I think that should count for something. I admit that I was tempted to buy one of those T-shirts anyway. Dawn talked me out of it.
On the second day of The End of the World according to some we piled into the car and drove to Achill Island. It is technically an island even thought the bridge to get there from “The Mainland” is only about forty yards long – not exactly the causeway to Key West. It is a beautiful island with scenic vistas of the Atlantic – well worth the drive. At the end of the road, literally, there is a lovely beach, then you turn around and go get lunch. My kind of day!
I don’t expect there to be many more days like we are having now. It would be spooky nice, but, after all, this is Ireland, not Boca Raton.