At 9:00 on a warm summer morning, I stepped off a plane and into a place of my dreams when I saw an Irish language welcome on the wall of Shannon Airport. I had come to Ireland to spend a week in an Irish language immersion program, and to explore the way Irish was used everyday. My first few steps on Irish soil (on Shannon tile) were already rewarding.
As I passed through customs, waited for Bus Éireann, and stared through my sleep-deprived plane exhaustion at the towns between Shannon and Galway City, I was hungry for every sound, every flick of light, every color. I remember one absolutely perfect town somewhere in Clare - blue and yellow flags darting between shops and across the street, little knotted hedges along a pasture. At Gort, an elderly lady got on the bus and sat next to me. She commented on the weather and on my knitting. I thought Irish people would be sick of tourists but she wanted to talk to me about why I had come "back" to Ireland - saying I had come back despite the fact I had just told her it was my great-grandmother who was born here.
We all tumbled down from the bus in Galway City, and scattered in different directions. I stood in front of a billboard that showed smiling (presumed) Irish-speakers, encouraging Galwegians to be bold about using their Irish. After a deep breath, I set off to my hostel - and totally fell in love with Galway. I may have mentioned that I am a person who loves colors, but if not - I LOVE COLORS - and Galway has them, along with music at every step. They are everywhere but especially along a cobblestone road that leads to the harbor and the sea. So along with bright fuchsia and lime green and fiddles, there is blue-grey streaked with grass green, and the calls of gulls. And, best of all, Irish peppered everything, from the street signs to the municipal garbage cans.
While in Galway, I had a couple of errands, including ordering, collecting, and shipping home a half a dozen hurling sticks for my camogie club. After taking in the scene, I started on my task; completing it took the help of the hostel staff, the camera shop, the stationery shop, the post office, and the entire family of hurley makers themselves. I was so blown away by the kindness of each of these people, who treated me as more than a customer and offered generosity as if it were the air they breathed. When I left Galway on a busy Saturday morning, headed for the next stage of my journey, I bumped into the camera shop guy, who smiled and waved in happy recognition.
How I left my comfort zone: I called a stranger (the hurley maker) to ask about hurley sticks, a subject in which I'm not an expert; I carried on a conversation with a stranger on the bus. Yes, I'm shy!
What I learned: Talking to people can be so rewarding, and there is so much goodness in this world.
Yay for talking to strangers!!
ReplyDelete