Nothing but blue skies

I finally painted something…It was a potato, carrot and some mint leaves I picked from the organic farm.

The Irish potato famine is a subject that hit me really hard during our year long program. Come to find out I have people who fled Ireland during the 1700’s from one of the hardest hit regions in Ireland, up near Sligo. I can only speculate that they fled because of the potato famine for we have no documentation of this other than they were here and then were in New York. This part of Irish history was particularly hard for me to digest during our year long studies. Especially when the entire horror could have been avoided if only a few shipping routes could have been spared.

I do not expect those that are reading my blog to comprehend the gambit of emotions I ran that winter quarter. But I will forever be haunted by the story of a young girl who ran alongside a carriage for at least 2 miles… She had no shoes, no food and was at the brink of starving. At first the men in the carriage thought it was funny that this girl was following them, wanting a hand out… The way I see it she must have stumbled a few times, I am sure her poor feet were bleeding and yet her spirit was strong enough to withstand the pain it took to ask for help for her and her family. Finally to end the suffering they tossed a few coins out the window which would have been enough to feed her family for one day… One day…

Now I am in Ireland and have had the opportunity to dig my own potatoes out of Irish soil. No blight is destroying the earth here… They were beautiful white and purple… grown with love… The emotion of digging these up was overwhelming and I think I am still attempting to grasp how large this one act is for me. To know that an entire branch of my past had to leave this beautiful land due to sickness, disease and poverty – that could have been avoided – is almost too much to digest.

The words of “it is shame only a few thousand of them died” and it was “providence” that brought the blight to Ireland echo through my head. And yet, today… here… now… There is life in this soil… There is hope, growth and re-birth. The people of Ireland know how to face adversity and they do so with ferocity I have not seen in the states. The farm we are staying in is employed by the people who live here and their sons and daughters. Like my ancestors before me they til the land, grow their crops and reap their harvest.

For today there is blue shining through the clouds. A promise from the earth that once again life will continue, life goes on, life finds a way. For this I am thankful for the day ahead and look forward to what journey I will take next.

The Irish mist and an ass

Now I am certainly not complaining... Coming home to Ireland the first time was amazing. It was sunny almost the entire time and I returned home with a sun burn. It was good but was lacking an important element in my Irish psyche… the Irish mist…

This morning I awoke to Jack, the ass, hee-hawing up a storm. It was about 6 am and I decided It was time to wake up and get the day started. As I walked down and noticed the gray and gloomy clouds I also began to notice the mist had finally arrived.The crow council was convening..

I have been processing the past few days. My emotions have not been able to catch up with me just yet and I am still trying to figure out what everything has meant to me so far. The first amazing thing that happened was the kindness of an airline operator. We arrived at the desk two hours prior to departure and I inquired as to the availability of a window seat for we were currently seated in the very last row of the plane. She stated there were no window seats available but we could upgrade our seats to the comfort plus for an additional $120 each. Given that we do no have expendable cash we politely declined, happy just to be on our way! As we began to step away from the desk she said, why don’t you give me your boarding passes and if something comes up I can change these for you.

As we sat down the terminal area began to fill and I was sure we were not going to get a window seat. I even discussed with Patrick dipping into the emergency fund to upgrade us for the 9 hour flight but we both decided it was best to just take we had! I was still happy with it, after all, we were heading home!

About 20 minutes prior to boarding I approached the desk to gather our boarding passes. I jokingly said to the lady, I am harassing you again!! She smiled and asked, are you on your honeymoon. I said we are on holiday for school but also celebrating the fact we have been married for 12 years. She smiled and said well we have upgraded your tickets to the comfort plus seating and have an amazing HONEYMOON!! I almost began crying!

So we arrive in Amsterdam trying to find our way outside when an American traveller sort of leads us through the train station and gives us several words of caution and advice about how people are getting their bags taken even just by setting them on the ground for a moment. He directed us where to exit and how to get to where we were headed.

Upon arriving in Dublin we were exhausted and immediately decided sleep was the best option. After breakfast the following morning we inquired as to how we could get to Slane by bus. The lad behind the counter said as a matter of fact I am leaving for home in about 10 minutes and I would be more than happy to offer you a lift into Trim. From there you can hop on the bus and it will take you directly into Slane. So in the car on the way we talked of Irish history, Trim castle, and life as we know it.

All along our journey so far we have run into amazing people with generous hearts. We are now living in Slane at the Slane Farm Hostel and have already met two amazing souls named Heather and Oak. Heather is a body worker and organic farmer. Oak is a horticulturist and vocal chanter. There is also an amazing soul named Gabriel who is from Trinidad. He is also staying in the hostel. My gratitude is overwhelming in this place of warm hearts and welcomed spirits.

The sun is rising... The mist has passed… But my heart remains – beating – hopeful – and more than thankful…

“Why can’t we feel what we feel?”

Ten hours on a plane, four movies, chaos at landing and a 20 minute trek across Amsterdam later we arrive at the back of the line to the Anne Frank House. It was raining; windy and very chilly out there I would like to add! The line moved at a snail pace and I could feel Patrick’s patience slipping as ten minutes became twenty, became an hour, became 90 minutes… Finally I said OK if we are not to that light post by 11:40, we will leave and find some place warm. Secretly I was conspiring with the Universe… PLEASE let us get to the light pole by 11:40… PLEASE!!!

Soon we began chatting with Beth. Her and her father are from New York and are on their way to Israel. Beth has a Bachelors degree and two Masters Degrees. Her mother passed away two weeks ago and she asked her father to come along the trip with her.  This kept Patrick and I both in line, inching our way to the entrance of the Anne Frank House. 

After talking of cultural studies and how we do not as a society appreciate what we have or find the underlying truth, we eventually made our way inside. The first floor is a small video of the Frank’s, who they were, how they lived… This took us to our first insight into the way they must have lived. Off to the side were old crates from the spice business Mr. Frank had below. The smells from this must have been overwhelming to the senses!! They left a small slit in the plastic-glass for you to smell the spice. We lost track of Beth and her father but found ourselves in the hallway leading to the main office where Meip typed away by day. There are pictures scattered over the walls of the family, the office, the way the life was before they all had to go into hiding…I paused at a small plastic enclosure that covered the wall where they measured the girls height with pencil marks and all around there are Anne’s words… Beckoning you in…

I rounded a corner and Patrick pointed down… There was a plexi-glass platform that covered the bottom stairs. We were standing in the hall way leading up to the attic. I began to cry. I had a hard time walking up those very narrow stairs… Into the very narrow passageway… I felt as though I was climbing up a step ladder. At the top of the stairs was “the book case. I stepped through the portal door and into a new world… A very small world where the windows are covered with black boards… The first room we entered was the hall to the bathroom. From there you find the Frank’s room, then Anne’s room, the kitchen/living area, and finally the stairs to the attic. The attic is not accessible but the most profound moment for me was looking up and seeing a mirror reflecting the window where Anne would draw in fresh breath. She grew flowers up there. She dreamed up there… She created a whole world for herself in this little space…

As I sit here trying to decide what I should write about this place there are a couple things I must mention… The living/dining area is small, approximately the size of my living room. I placed my hand upon the counter top where they had cooked so many meals, where perhaps Anne or Margot leaned while their mother was cooking… Where they sat in silence together… My tears would not come but the emotions were over flowing.

Another is I could not breathe in this place… My emotions got the better of me. I like to think it is because I have been awake since yesterday, and this may even be a little true. But then I read Anne’s own words… “Why can’t we just feel how we feel?” Of course this made things worse for me! But this is a true statement… We push our emotions aside and dismiss how we react as being tired or stressed out… When we really we are connecting with something that needs to process. The scope of what I experienced was larger than me… I connected with that. I connected as a 14 year old girl… I connected as a mother of a 14 year old daughter…

As I left the Anne Frank house I never did see the words I was searching for…. “Despite everything, I still believe people are good at heart.” I am not sure if I somehow missed them on the wall or if they changed the words since Whoopi Goldberg did Broadway the first time… But what I did find was a piece that I had been looking for. Perspective… And for me, this is a great way to begin our journey…

Puttin' on the Ritz

Priceline has a deal where you “name your own price” on hotel rooms. There are a couple catches, one is you do not know which hotel you are choosing and another is you cannot cancel your reservations. If your bid is accepted you get the room automatically without being able to change your mind at the last minute… What a gamble!!! Why not??

So now we are sitting in the Hilton Seatac Airport and Conference Center on our own individual beds and awaiting our check-out time in the morning. This place is pretty fancy for a girl who wears the same shirt twice in a week, out of a rotation of five. All of which I have packed with me…  And as I sit here on my bed that has a “blanket runner” (You know, like the one Grandma used in the middle of the table.. Yeah there is ONE at the end of my bed… Not an actual blanket… Just a runner…) staring at my un-pedicured feet I am certain that I am very much still myself! 

So we took ourselves to 7-11 for bottled water, that did NOT require your first born, two forms of ID and then the two dollars… On our way back we decided it was time for a treat. So now we are sitting in the fancy restaurant that is located inside our hotel. We have ordered Espresso Crème Brule and some sort of Vanilla bean icecream with fruit, and are sipping coffee while blogging together.

I am sure this is going to cost me a days food budget while in Slane, but it is worth it at the moment. I think this trip.. adventure… is going to be a series of moments. This one is filled with chocolate!

Time is ticking

We have been watching a lot of television late at night for the past week... Not that we are excited about our trip or anything!!! Last night we watched a show on the Science Channel that talked about time. Does it exist? Is it a construct we have made? Has it always been? Will it always remain the same? Some speculate that time is happening in the moment and once the moment has passed we measure the mount of space that has taken place between the two events. It is all a bit mind boggling when you think of it!!

I do not believe in either argument really. I am standing somewhere in the middle of this thing called time... Wondering just how long 10 more days can seem when I am already over there, walking the beaches of Iona, climbing a hill in Donegal or walking through Leap Castle in county Tipperary...

Despite everything...

"I still believe people are good at heart" - Anne Frank
For the past several weeks I have been asking myself what is a pilgrimage. I even asked my 14 year who in her infinite wisdom at such a young age responded with, "isn't that something you figure out as you go?" It is here that I began the next leg in our journey... With a visit to another wise teenage girl by visiting the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam.


When I was a little girl, Whoopi Goldberg had an HBO Broadway show where she played several different characters. My personal favorite was the junkie Fontaine. Fontaine had a hard life and needed to skip the country so he decided to go to Amsterdam for all the wrong reasons. But upon visiting the town he somehow found himself in the Anne Frank house. For the first time in 20 min, Fontaine stopped moving, talking... Showing what it would have been like to sit in the house for hours every day, not making a peep... Not a word... While exiting he said he saw the poster that read "Despite everything I still believe people are good at heart". It changed the characters whole life around! I then read her diary in 7th grade.

Now here I am, preparing for a journey that will take me to her house. To see where she wrote those words... To be humbled by a presence far greater than our own comprehension. How do I even begin to verbalize what all this means to me?

Tá tú anseo!

Yes, "I am here"! Just not "here". My dreams are plagued with Ireland, my thoughts clouded with scents of peat fire and salty air... Now that I am so close to beginning school once more I have to think back to when we moved here. A year ago my future seemed clear and right out in front of me. Then we went to Ireland and returned home... I spent most of the summer sitting on my ass playing Sims and wishing I had a real life. :-(

Ireland changed my entire being. Maybe I was suppose to just sit this summer but I cannot help feeling like I wasted so much time. Instead of listing the things I could have done, I am going to be thankful for having the time to waste. :-)

My next journey is with numbers and art! I am not sure how I feel about it all just yet. I am excited and nervous! The Ireland program was so exciting and adrenaline based I am wondering just how this year will go. I am really trying not to compare the two, but how is that possible? It is not often that opportunity comes along... Nor for that amount of personal growth to happen in such a small amount of time. I think I will break it down and write a bit more of what I experienced and how I feel it has impacted my life.

I have been thinking a lot about Dublin. I am not a fan of big cities! Dublin is fairly large and yet I felt very comfortable there. I usually tense up when I am around large amounts of people I do not know, but I had no problem hanging out and being calm. It is this calm feeling that has had me feeling out of sorts. It is as if I picked it up in Dublin and left it there before returning home! I would very much like that feeling back! My stomach has been in knots since returning home. Worrying about every little thing... What is it about Ireland that caused me to find a sense of well-being?