I had been to Ireland exactly once before I moved there, indefinitely, in the winter of 2000.
I just had this fixation in my head about the great green country that managed to tug at my heart when I first set eyes on the long hills.
I saw the coast from a little train that carried me to Bray from Dublin.
Not many years later, I would come back, to the southwest of the country, and settle in the town of Skibbereen.
I stayed more than three years.
I wouldn’t know it then, but the span of time I was in the southwest of County Cork would set the tone of my life from that point forward forever.
I would see things not as black and white, but as shades of gray. Ireland had a way of winning you over, to seeing things from lots of angles, because there were stories to be told from so many walks of life, so many ages, so much history and love, and sadness, and feeling.
It was all so emotional.
In lots of ways, Ireland was like India.
But I didn’t know how, exactly, until much, much later.
A lovely post. My mother was from Cork and I’ve always loved the coast around there. Hope it hasn’t been “fierce windy altogether”!