This last weekend the group spent a lot of time in the city of Galway, and went on excursions to the town of Cong and to the Cliffs of Moher, which are famous for their appearance in the movie The Princess Bride. I’ll try to keep the timeline as chronological as possible but its difficult as I get excited.
As I recovered from the grievous wound that was an 8 a.m. wake up call and more or less took a nosedive into the seat on the bus there was only one thought on my mind. Getting a picture of a donkey next to a sign of the city of Cong (come on you know that was a little funny). Unfortunately there was not one single donkey there, next to a sign or otherwise, which throughly disappointed me.
I quickly recovered though as my exploring troop wandered into a used book store. As a lover of all things old and historic I wanted to sit in the corner of this store until its walls swallowed me whole and I became “part of the ship, part of the crew”. Yes that is a Pirates of the Caribbean reference live with it. Where some people might have seen dirty and dusty books that were falling apart, in the most plain and boring store on the planet in the middle of nowhere, I saw something different. This place smelled exactly how it should have. Crisp air mingling with the musty glory that only an old book can carry mixed in my nose and the impact hit me in the chest like a hammer. The past was...alive in this place. It was more than an idea, more than simple proof that there is indeed artifacts that were created long before my lifetime. Towering bookshelves that screamed to be climbed carried the hearts and souls of authors and readers alike. Opening the fragile spines of a time machine more powerful than the Tardis or any DeLorean I pondered about who had read this book before me. How much it must have meant to someone, escaping into the world that these celebrated authors had provided for them. After a very long period of heart-wrenching deliberation I escaped with a copy of Robin Hood which was printed in 1903, and for only 6 euro!
On our trip to the Cliffs of Moher we stopped at a place, which I didn’t bother remembering the name of and now wish I had. There was another ancient burial tomb where there wasn’t room to swing a kneazle which had over 30 people buried inside. That must have been the most somber game of tetris in history. The limestone that covered the ground was over 320 MILLION years old. Million. 320. AND THEY LET US WALK ON THEM. I was so excited to have the chance to physically connect with something that old. At one point I lay upon the surface of the limestone and pressed my ear against it, listening to see if I could hear the stories it had to share. Rocks, as you know speak very slowly, limestone in particular and we had to move on so sadly I wasn’t able to listen but I did speak to the rock, and I’m fairly certain it will remember me.
The Cliffs of Moher, or as I always call them The Cliffs of Insanity because really....I mean...come on...they’re the Cliffs of Insanity, were spectacular just as you could imagine. A classmate and I found sticks and absolutely re-enacted the famous fight scene from the film, frequently crying out “I am Indigo Montoya! Prepare to die!” and “Ah but you see, I am not left handed either!” as we battled, a stiff Irish wind in our faces, the threat of plummeting to our deaths (if we jumped the wall and ran the extra 30 feet to the edge) with the encouragement of our classmates. I am not ashamed to admit that I lost, as her sword was much mightier than mine, and easily snapped it in pieces.
For our time in the city of Galway we kept busy with adventuring. We traveled its winding cobbled streets visiting various pubs, wandered through its mall which seemed to be built inside the city structure as you wouldn’t be able to tell it was there unless you looked for it. We found a Dominos that was open until 3 a.m. so in shameful American style we went for a few late night snacks, and when we were still hungry after that we visited McDonalds for Shamrock Shakes. Other than that no one could tell we were from the states I swear. Except for the time we saluted a man dressed as Captain America and I yelled “O Captain my Captain!” My favorite moment in Galway came when we visited a pub called Richardson’s. I had visited the very same pub located in Eire (pronounced Air) Square four years ago when I was 17 years old. From the barrel next to the corner booth, the same dark lighting, the beautifully carved wood everywhere you looked, to the bartender and the Guinness pint in my hand it was exactly how I remembered it, and nostalgia kicked me in teeth. A quiet drink in a quiet pub playing traditional music made for a great ending to a wonderful trip.
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