The Hills Really Are Alive

Upon my arrival in Dublin, I was greeted by a nice older man waiting outside the Customs area for me. We retrieved my two large bags, packed them up on a cart, loaded them into his very nice car, and drove to his four story beach house in a suburb of Dublin. He dropped me off, showed me around, and told me he would be back at half three to drive me down to West Cork. Seeing as it was only nine in the morning, I had essentially the whole day to recover from an exhausting overnight flight where I had spent the past 7 hours watching movies and talking to an Irish couple next to me instead of trying to sleep and beat jet lag like I should have been doing. Completely ready to go to sleep for a good eight hours, I was fighting everything in me not to roll into the fluffy huge white bed, comfort comparable to a five star resort's, turn the lights out, and say goodnight to the world. Considering I was hardly able to function, however, I did allow myself a glorious two hour nap.

Getting up was the hardest thing in the world.

I found myself straining my eyes, trying not to close them again and drift back into deep, deep sleep, but I finally mustered the strength to leave the warm, comfy bed only due to the incentive of a nice hot shower waiting for me. The sun was streaming in through the windows and the house looked so lovely. I freshened up, helped myself to some lunch, and went upstairs to sit in the study, overlooking the gorgeous seaside. Foraging through the library, I discovered a book about the West Cork area and snuggled up on the couch for a while to read. It took all of two minutes before I was asleep again.

Before I knew it, the nice man was back and we were loading back up again to begin our four hour drive to West Cork. Although I was tired, I felt very prepared to stay awake considering the pampered welcoming to Ireland I had already had. As one who has a bit of experience with the trek from the U.S. to Europe, I can honestly say I have never had an easier or more comfortable transition while traveling! The timing of the flights from the U.S. make for brutal jet lag, and I'm so used to arriving in Europe in the morning and then starting a very busy day, leaving you completely exhausted by as early as 7 in the evening. I absolutely loved having a chance to rest, relax, and refresh before I had to get down to business. Then I was able to enjoy the relaxing drive down to the family, taking in the green hills and quaint houses, just like I've seen in the movies.

During my first few days here in Ireland, I really took it easy. That's the great thing about West Cork - it's the country so the pace is slow all the time. No one is in a hurry, no one is uptight... everyone is relaxed, calm, and ready to enjoy life! Amanda likes to call the days where you sleep in till noon and lay around in your pajamas and eat pancakes for lunch West Cork Days, because that's what we do here in West Cork! The cars are rickety, divey little things that are anything but fancy, but are great from getting you from here to there. Everyone is friendly and patient, and you know someone will stop by to help you if you ever find yourself in a bind or stranded. It's even rare to lock doors here. House keys are left in the front door and car keys never leave the ignition. It's safe, it's quiet, and it's wonderfully relaxed.

The first time I went out was with Amanda and her friend Gabby, the nice man that picked me up. We drove into Bantry, one of the larger towns nearby, and they dropped me off to walk around and take pictures while they ran some errands. The towns here in Ireland are so cute! None of them in this area are very big, so it is mostly just a bunch of shops lined along one or two streets, all painted different bright, cheery colors. I walked up a hill and found a beautiful church and a cemetery that I explored for awhile and then rejoined Amanda and Gabby before heading home. That was my first Irish exhibition.

The next day was Sunday and Amanda, Meg, and I got up and went to the Protestant church in town together. Most of Ireland is Catholic, so I'm very fortunate to have ended up with a family that is the same denomination as me! We arrived at 11:30, only to find that the services had been combined that week and we were actually thirty minutes late. Oops! We tiptoed in the back and sat down in the wooden pews. The order and layout of the service was very different from your traditional Baptist churches in Texas, but I enjoyed the new perspective on things. We sang some of my favorite hymns - Be Thou My Vision, Before the Throne, and In Christ Alone - and even did communion, knelt down at the altar and using one cup for everyone (I considered passing on that one...). After church, we went into Schull and ate lunch at a bustling little restaurant in town that served crepes as their specialty. We were all stuffed afterwards! Schull happened to be hosting a short film festival over the weekend, so Meg and I spent a little time wandering around the restaurants and shops. Each local business had a different area set up where people could come in and watch the short films that were submitted. Our first stop was a film roll that was powered by bicycles. Five of us got on bikes in front of a screen and cycled hard enough to get the film rolling so we could watch the feature movie. Now that's a way to not be a couch potato! If the power dipped below a certain level, the movie would stop playing, so that meant we had to keep pedaling with a good amount of energy. Not such an easy thing for an out of shape person like me ;-)

We watched a few more films in coffee shops and pubs and then drove home so I could begin my driving lessons. I came over here fully aware that I would have to learn to drive a manual car, not to mention on the opposite side of the road, but things didn't really kick in until I had my first attempt on Sunday. Amanda and I went out in front of the house in the car, she gave me some very clear and thorough instructions on what to do, and then it was my turn to try. I stalled. Then I stalled again. And again. I eventually got the hang of it, a little, but was completely overwhelmed by all the new things to think about - hand brake, clutch, gas, brake, RPMs, speed, left hand side, indicator - so much!! I practiced a few times on my own and became really discouraged (there's a hill outside the house, if that explains anything...). When I went inside, Amanda talked with me and told me that attempting a stick shift for the first time is one of the most discouraging things ever. But she ensured me that I seemed to have a good grasp of it and already seemed to be doing well. I didn't agree at all, but then again she has taught both of her kids and two other au pairs to drive manual, so she really knows how the whole process goes! She told me to take a break to let it settle in, and I might be surprised later when I go back to try again. We discussed plans for the following day and she suggested we go for lunch in town - with me driving. I thought she was crazy... I could barely get out of the driveway.

Apparently Amanda really does know what she's talking about, because I got in the car the next day and drove all the way into town - twenty minutes away! I only stalled once - in the middle of the only intersection in town. I still was getting used to the whole putting the clutch down when you come to a stop.... ;) Luckily we made it though, even through traffic, and it wasn't all too bad. I still have a long ways to go, but at least I am capable of doing what I came here to do! Amanda and I ended up having a fabulous time in Skibboreen while the girls were in school. We ate at an adorable little cafe right on the river and had some incredibly savory quiche, salad, and potatoes. Walking off a bit of our fullness, we strolled through the cute town and visited a few of Amanda's favorite shops, including a purse shop. After a trip to the grocery store and running a few other errands, we drove back to Schull just in time to pick the girls up from school.

Earlier that morning I had had a chance to take a walk through the hills around the house. It was spectacular. The sun was out, and it was one of the most beautiful days I've seen yet since I've been here. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but Amanda encouraged me to just get out and explore. So I whistled for Roxy, the family's adorable springer spaniel, and the two of us headed out up the dirt road and into the hills. We happened past a gate with barbed wire around it, but there was a path leading through it, so I climbed over to see what was on the other side. Walking up to the end of the path offered a sight that could literally take your breath away. As far as I could see, tall silky grass stretched across the earth, all the way to the horizon and dropping off mysteriously into a lush forest of trees on the other side.

Roxy was thrilled. Within moments she was leaping through the field, bouncing up and down through the grass to try to see over the top as she ran. It was the cutest thing ever. Her ears flopped up and down and she furiously wagged her tail and panted in delight as she bounded across the rolling hills. I followed right through the path she formed in the tall grass, not exactly sure where she would lead me. After a few minutes of walking and still no end of the field in sight, I paused and stood still for a moment. Gazing across the magnificent field, I listened to the noise of the wind blowing ever so softly through the grass and relished in the moment of stillness, absolutely no sound to be heard except the gentle rustling of nature. I fully expected Julie Andrews to all of the sudden come spinning over the top of the hills, bursting out melodies about the life and music within those hills...

That evening found us at a music recital at Meg's school. The school doesn't have a formal band as part of the curriculum, so the students all take private lessons outside of school and performed their work in a small solo and small ensemble concert. Meg plays the bassoon and did a wonderful job performing a really difficult piece. We all enjoyed watching the other talented students as well, including a twelve year old prodigy on the recorder. During the concert, I considered how the recorder is kind of a joke of an instrument in the U.S.... something we give to little kids to blow and whistle on as just another toy in the toy box. I discovered that day that in Ireland it is much different, and I was astounded by how beautiful of an instrument it can be. The girl who played it was just phenomenal, and the whole audience sat and listened to her play with mouths wide open at her incredible skill and expertise, all at the age of twelve. Her teacher said they're starting her on clarinet as well :)