En route

It's Wednesday, a day and a half before we leave Ireland for home. I completely did not want to come on this trip and although I can't wait to return, I'm very happy I came. I like Ireland much more than I thought I would. Of course it's beautiful; I knew it would be. I've seen the pictures. And of course, I knew that it was rich with history and art and literature. But when I was growing up, my family made a sentimental big deal of our Irish-Catholic heritage, and I was steeled against it.

With its indescribable natural beauty and its amazing culture, Ireland would have enough laurels to rest on. But it's also incredibly energetic, while retaining a calm, unhurried good humor that makes every interaction a joy. Well, almost. Basil Fawlty was the one exception. Irish people always seem interested in others, though not in an idly curious, intrusive way.

So I'll miss Irish people. I'll miss proper tea, served in a cup and saucer. (I could use a cup and saucer at home, but I won't be able to duplicate the tea itself.) I'll miss the sudden shifts from still overcast skies to bright warm sun with wind blowing the clouds across the blue sky to a heavy shroud of fog and chill. And back again.

*****
Now it's Thursday, and I'm back on Iarnród Éireann, on the second leg of our train journey from Killarney back to Dublin. Believe it or not, on the first leg, we sat facing another young couple that included a dark-haired pretty girl with glasses. If they were students, they were likely graduate students--they looked a bit older and considerably more stylish than the two from the first trip. Couple number two spoke English with Italian accents, and they were reading English-language versions of two of Dan Brown's novels: Angels and Demons, and another one whose title I can't remember, but which my mother told the young man included a section too scary to read alone, especially at night. "Don't tell me any more," he said with a smile, "I don't want to spoil it." They ate chocolate biscuits from a cellophane - wrapped package and politely offered to share. After a few cookies and a few pages of her novel, the girl fell asleep on her boyfriend's shoulder.

As on the trip from Dublin, the trains arrived and departed promptly on time. Irish Rail is easy to understand and navigate after one or two trips, and I feel confident that I could get anywhere in Ireland via train, but this will be my last trip for a while. We go home tomorrow--a longer flight because the wind will be against us, but a shorter elapsed time because we gain rather than lose four hours. I miss my family. I miss my house. I miss not having to check for my passport every five minutes. True story--I left my wallet containing my passport and driver's license, two credit cards, and about $850 in dollars and euros combined on a barstool in Dublin, and I found it a few minutes later, with nothing missing or disturbed. This could have been a very different trip. But that's Ireland, I guess, and that's the proverbial luck of the Irish, even the American, three-generations-removed, 3/4 Irish variety.