Of all the countries I have visited (excluding the ones I have lived in), I have traveled the most number of times to Ireland — 6 in total. Once on my own, twice with family (aunt & uncle and then parents), and three times for work leading groups of Harlaxton students for a long weekend (#dreamjob). Traveling to Ireland is very affordable and easy to do living in England, with quick flights from London to Dublin for under $15 (USD), so naturally I took advantage.
My first time in Ireland was on my own in April 2013 for a week-long solo trip traveling around the country, trying to see as much as I could in what I thought would be one of my only times there. While I honestly wasn’t blown totally away as I expected to be (perhaps expectations set too high), there are two moments/memories/places that have left a lasting impression on me:
1) Spending the night on Inis Mór, Aran Islands: This is probably one of the most remote places I have been to in the world. Off the west coast of Ireland, the Arans are three islands located at the mouth of Galway Bay. Inis Mór is the largest with a population of about 840 (approximately 1,200 in total on all three islands, Irish being the primary language spoken). Inis Mór is also the largest island off the Irish coast with no bridge or causeway to the mainland — you can only arrive by air or sea. (The evening I was there, I met a 16-year-old working at a restaurant who said he had never left the Aran Islands his entire life!). The island is more crowded during the day with day trippers coming over to the island in the morning and taking the last boat of the evening back to the mainland. Once that ferry departs, only the locals and a few overnight travelers remain.
While on Inis Mór, I rented a bicycle and pedaled around the island. I was struck by the island’s rugged and raw beauty. There were hardly any cars and I rarely passed another person the further I went along. I biked on mostly gravel roads, passing miles and miles of ancient stone walls and meeting some furry friends along the way.
1) Spending the night on Inis Mór, Aran Islands: This is probably one of the most remote places I have been to in the world. Off the west coast of Ireland, the Arans are three islands located at the mouth of Galway Bay. Inis Mór is the largest with a population of about 840 (approximately 1,200 in total on all three islands, Irish being the primary language spoken). Inis Mór is also the largest island off the Irish coast with no bridge or causeway to the mainland — you can only arrive by air or sea. (The evening I was there, I met a 16-year-old working at a restaurant who said he had never left the Aran Islands his entire life!). The island is more crowded during the day with day trippers coming over to the island in the morning and taking the last boat of the evening back to the mainland. Once that ferry departs, only the locals and a few overnight travelers remain.
While on Inis Mór, I rented a bicycle and pedaled around the island. I was struck by the island’s rugged and raw beauty. There were hardly any cars and I rarely passed another person the further I went along. I biked on mostly gravel roads, passing miles and miles of ancient stone walls and meeting some furry friends along the way.
I was told about some cliffs to visit off the beaten track by an Irish friend of mine. After getting directions from the man working at the hostel I was staying at and trekking over rocks and walls, I found myself standing on the edge of the earth with hardly another soul in sight (just one man in the far distance). I became extremely aware that I was standing in a place that probably a majority of the people I knew didn’t even know existed, or certainly was not a place in their regular consciousness. I stared into the distance and the unknown in front of me and couldn’t help but think about the vastness of the world and what a tiny, insignificant place we each occupy in it. (Solo travel, the starry night sky, and the endless ocean waves also often conjure up these thoughts). I felt like I was absolutely nothing and everything at once, and it was both terrifying and empowering.
That island, and specifically that moment and feeling standing on the cliff’s edge, is still so real and tangible for me, even years later. I often revisit that memory when I want to remind myself of the simultaneous nothingness and everythingness that makes up life.
That island, and specifically that moment and feeling standing on the cliff’s edge, is still so real and tangible for me, even years later. I often revisit that memory when I want to remind myself of the simultaneous nothingness and everythingness that makes up life.
2) The Marina Inn, Dingle: I had just arrived in Dingle and was staying for the night. It was a typical rainy Irish afternoon and I was hoping to find some live Irish music in a pub. Next thing I know, I’m passing by The Marina Inn and a man smoking outside reading my mind says if I’m looking for live music, to go no further and come inside! This was about 3pm. 12 hours later (and probably just as many ciders), I’m experiencing my first “lock in”, where the bar officially closes but regular patrons and close friends are (illegally) allowed to stay and carry on with what people seem to do best in pubs — drinking! Throughout the night I befriended the barman, David, and one of the musicians, Éamonn (who had once been to my hometown of Portland!). We spent hours trading stories, talking politics and culture, mimicking each other’s accents, and who knows what else we talked about after a dozen or more pints. (I was honestly shocked at how much everyone in the bar that night could each drink while still being able to carry on a (mostly) coherent conversation... they told me it's part of their Irish blood!).
At the end of the night (meaning early morning), Éamonn cut me a guitar pick from a cardboard coaster which I still have in my wallet to this day, and David assured me I was welcome back anytime. I made my way back to the hostel I was staying at down the road, and after a few hours of sleep wrote them a thank you note for their hospitality, slipped it under The Marina Inn door and then caught an all too early bus out of Dingle (heading to the Aran Islands, point 1 above).
Later that week, I posted on my Instagram account: “There are times while traveling when everything comes together and nothing else matters except that particular moment and place. You wouldn't rather be anywhere else in world. It's about the people you meet and the character of the place. I felt such happiness in Dingle town, Ireland.”
At the end of the night (meaning early morning), Éamonn cut me a guitar pick from a cardboard coaster which I still have in my wallet to this day, and David assured me I was welcome back anytime. I made my way back to the hostel I was staying at down the road, and after a few hours of sleep wrote them a thank you note for their hospitality, slipped it under The Marina Inn door and then caught an all too early bus out of Dingle (heading to the Aran Islands, point 1 above).
Later that week, I posted on my Instagram account: “There are times while traveling when everything comes together and nothing else matters except that particular moment and place. You wouldn't rather be anywhere else in world. It's about the people you meet and the character of the place. I felt such happiness in Dingle town, Ireland.”
Fast forward two years later (April 2015), and it’s now my 5th time in Ireland. This time with two of the people I love most — my mom and dad. My mom is of Irish descent so this trip was even extra special for her, and so wonderful I could share it with her. By this time I knew my way around the country a little better, so helped plan our route and pick out the top towns and spots to experience the Irish charm I had grown to love more and more with each subsequent visit.
The three of us spent two magical weeks together, driving around the country, taking in its beauty and enjoying each other’s company (as well as lots of food and drink!). Living halfway around the world from the people you love most isn’t easy, and I imagine it must be even harder for a parent having their child so far away for so long. But if anything, it teaches more than ever to appreciate every moment you do have together and then to cherish the memories fully and forever. (And thank goodness for FaceTime and Skype these days to stay connected more easily and be able to “see” each other regularly!).
Naturally, one of the places I had on our list to visit was Dingle. I hadn’t returned since the “lock in” and was so curious if David and Éamonn were still there. I told my parents about that night so we made our way to The Marina Inn, and sure enough David was there behind the bar. I recognized him instantly and when we made eye contact I thought I saw a glimpse of recognition in his eye as well, although he didn’t say anything or let on. Anyone who knows me even a little bit could probably tell you I can be very awkward in social situations, and this was definitely one of them. But I finally got the courage up to ask him if he remembered that night, and once it hit him he was all smiles! He remembered exactly where I was sitting two years before and what we talked about, and we laughed as we replayed the moments of the night (at the least the ones we could remember). He told me Éamonn was still living nearby, although was unfortunately not in Dingle that particular day so I did not get to see him. I joined David out that night to see some more of Dingle from a local’s perspective which was a lot of fun, although no lock in this time... probably for the best! I was shocked and amused to find out that David still had the thank you note I had written two years before and left under the door, and he was shocked and amused when I showed him the guitar pick in my wallet that I still have from that night.
I may never see my Dingle friends again, or I maybe I will if I make it back there in the future. Who knows. But my second time to Dingle has reinforced for me that the people you meet around the world, even if only for a few hours, can become a much larger and meaningful part of your life. It’s not necessarily the person(s) themself, but the exchange of stories and shared experiences that have a lasting impact. The guitar pick I carry with me from that night symbolizes human connection and connectedness in the most random of places. That solo travel doesn't have to mean you are alone. That beautiful life moments and friendships can happen at the most unexpected times, if you are open to accepting them. I almost walked past the man smoking at the door of The Marina Inn in April 2013. I don’t know what pulled me inside but I’m sure glad that it did.
I may never see my Dingle friends again, or I maybe I will if I make it back there in the future. Who knows. But my second time to Dingle has reinforced for me that the people you meet around the world, even if only for a few hours, can become a much larger and meaningful part of your life. It’s not necessarily the person(s) themself, but the exchange of stories and shared experiences that have a lasting impact. The guitar pick I carry with me from that night symbolizes human connection and connectedness in the most random of places. That solo travel doesn't have to mean you are alone. That beautiful life moments and friendships can happen at the most unexpected times, if you are open to accepting them. I almost walked past the man smoking at the door of The Marina Inn in April 2013. I don’t know what pulled me inside but I’m sure glad that it did.