&till next time. . . x

Witty and clever eyes, black as pitch.
I have never managed to look in to them properly – you never let me.
Always smartly dressed, very stylish for a British. Wondering whether black is your favourite colour – or the easiest one to wear?
Spending time with you, discovering bits of you, few at time.
You feeding me with your thoughts and your sweet care.
Spoiling me although I never thought I deserved it (but I know you believe so) – who is right?
Loose laces have tied us together over the past years.
A light pull from either side and back there we were, as a tight knot.

"if you get the chance look outside - eclipse"

(you have always been able to suprise me)

I will never forget.

Bits on Eire

Green are the fields, green is the shamrock and green are the letter boxes!
Haven’t quite worked out why all clocks on the buildings both in Dublin and Limerick were not working..
The only two thing I’ve learnt in Irish: HOWARYA(hello) and SLAINTE (you are welcome)

Surprising Limerick

Limerick is a nice little place. Very quite, clean, not much to do, not very exciting. Walkable, crossed by the Shannon River, some how similar to Dublin , but of course everything was on a smaller scale. Very similar architecture – colourful building with square roofs, a beautiful Cathedral dedicated to St. Mary, Guinness signs and pubs everywhere. An imposing castle was looking out over the river.
Limerick was some kind of “obliged” stop before going back home from Shannon. One thing surprised me about the city of Limerick: it has an ANTI war memorial.
Every single city I have been visiting so far always had monuments commemorating war, somehow praising the bravery and daring of its soldiers.
For the first time I stood in front of a monument which condemned violence and fightings.
It was made of two busts facing each other. One was of a commander, his chest decorated with medals. Each medal had a skull carved in it. The second bust represented a soldier with a wounded head, half of it was covered in a bandage.
I believe it is worth going to Limerick just for that.
Limerick actually surprised me twice.
I had a stroll around the castle and was walking along the river, following its right bank.
Then I bumped into these colourful houses surrounded but a pointed iron fence. I stopped and thought they were very curious and funny. Their walls were painted with such stark colours. The houses had wooden doors and windows with followers on the windowsill. The curtains were drawn to let the light it. But then I had a better look at them and realized that what I was seeing wasn’t actually what it was.
Whatever my eyes were seeing wasn’t real: everything had been painted on walled up doors and windows.
The first reaction was a smile and somehow a laugh too. It reminded me of Magritte “Ceci n’est pas une pipe”. Afterwards though I thought I was a bit scary.

Cliffs of Moher: sunshine Ireland!!

We got there eventually. After driving through the Burren National Park, along the bay that goes from Galway to Cape Loop and after spending our lunchtime in Doolin (the smallest village I’ve ever visited) we arrived at the Cliffs of Moher. Such was the sunshine that it was difficult to look at the sea and the cliffs!
“The sun followed us all day. When we got to the cliffs it was shining at its best, not a cloud in the sky. Its light reflected in the ocean almost blinded me.
The cliffs standing in front of the sun were like a black drawing outstretched towards the horizon. I ventured off the tourist path, trespassing the board ‘Danger: do not go beyond this point’. Behind it no fences or warnings, just me walking free of restrictions and thoughts.”
PS: do not go there if you suffer from vertigo!!

The trip on the bus – getting there and coming back, was all about driving through the Irish countryside, passing by villages and lakes. The land seemed dotted with ruins of medieval castles and towers, walls of churches still standing after centuries and still surrounded by their cemeteries made of abandoned bones and souls.

FYI: for your information

Being a day trip and having to spend quite some time on the bus, our bus driver made sure he had enough information to entertain us. I have to admit that wasn’t always listening to him, but here what I managed to understand.
County Clare was once the land of the O’Brien clan. They fought for and defended this region, they built castles and towers and they also used combined weddings as a diplomatic weapon to increase their wealth (as it has been done in the rest of Europe, possibly the world).
While driving past Shannon, going towards Ennis, Richard (that is the name of the driver) told us the story of when and how Irish Coffee was invented.
“Late 1930’s – early 1940’s, International Airport of Foynes, County Clare, Eire.
At that time the airport at Foynes, was quite busy sending and receiving tourists and customers from the rest of the world. Ireland was already well known for its unpredictable and rainy cold weather. In those times the airport of Foynes was well known instead for its planes coming back after an hour or so after leaving the airport. Bad weather conditions plus lack of fuel forced pilots to change course and go back to the starting point.
That was what happened on one night. Once again, one of the planes who took off from Foynes justa couple of hour before, had to go back to the stating point. Really bad weather on its way! The passengers had to get off the plane, they were wet, cold and grumpy. A chef, willing to give them some comfort, prepared a coffee, added a shot of whiskey and topped it with cream. An American asked “ What is this? Is it Brazilian coffee?” and the chef replied “No, this is Irish Coffee”.
And they all lived happily ever after.

NOTE: a young boy playing with a rugby ball by the ruins of a castle overlooking a lake.

County Clare

I got off the train and half an hour later I got on a bus for a day trip around country Clare.
The Burren or “the great rock” – a landascape made of limestone, a witness of the ice age. We drove through it for most of the day. Hills and land covered in limestone. Grey all over. Mother nature worked on it for thousands of years, a unique and fragile landscape where only goats (and tourists on restricted areas) are admitted.
A bare view, so simple and so enchanting.
We drove by the coast of the Galway bay, having a first taste of Irish cliffs. Around us, nothing but nature. The road was just a line, challenged by the shape of the coast.
We hardly met another car on our way to the cliffs. You could spot a house of the side of the hill but no real urban areas. A village made of few houses was all you could find there. And goats and sheep, of course. They seemed to be the real and only owner of the land. Their guardians weren’t shepherds, but ancient towers and castles, still standing at strategic points after centuries of battles and wars.

A young man from Chicago - goodbye Dublin

He entered the dormitory in the afternoon. He was carrying a huge suitcase and a shoulder-bag. He dropped his bags and dropped himself too on the bed. A smile of relief came up to his face together with a “HI” when he saw me sitting on my bed right in front of his.
Few minutes and questions later, I discovered that his suitcase held his all life and Dublin was just another stop in Europe. London and Florence were places for his near future.
I apologized “ I am leaving Dublin tomorrow and my alarm clock will go on at 6am, I am sorry”.
I went to bed early, 10.30pm.
Right after I pulled the duvet up to my shoulders, the door opened and the light went on. And off straight away.
It was that young – and kind, man from Chicago.
The orange urban streetlights were mixing with the darkness of the room. There was enough light for me to follow his movements. He took off his jacket and put it on the side of the bed. He used the light coming from his mobile to search for his toothbrush in his suitcase.
When he came out of the bathroom, he undressed, leaving the jumper next to the coat. In that half light I could see the lines of a well built body.
I found it hard to fall asleep, my mind went off to a path that had nothing to do with the one Morpheus was trying to address me to.
I managed to find some peace of mind when he laid on the bed and covered his body with the quilt.
Having nothing to look at, I rolled on the side and eventually fell asleep.

20.03: leaving Dublin, discovering Ireland

So I left Dublin on a wet Saturday morning, getting on a completely empty over-ground tram that crossed a dark and sleepy city. Once at the train station, I printed my ticket and found my pre booked seat in the carriage number 9.
Leaving Dublin meant passing by the industrial area, blocks of council houses where “everything looks so regular, tidy, clean, depersonalized..”(everything looked exactly the same: paths, front doors, parking spaces, colours and architecture of the houses, the way they set up those little green zones/parks.. it seemed you were looking at something reflected on a mirror.. ).
Half an hour later, only fields and farms were populating the countryside. Few cows, some sheep, a horse or a donkey here and there, a tractor forgotten in the middle of the field, waiting for someone to rescue it.
“.. fields and farms, farms and fields. Flat land, still somnolent under a morning light dimmed by a cloudy sky”.
The train seemed to follow the sun, and kept that path when I had to change train at Limerick junction. Where the sun was, there the train was going. Later that day, the bus I took followed the same philosophy: where the sun was, there it was heading.

PS: a woman sat next to me spent the first hour working with exceptional patience and attention on her makeup. She used all sorts of products: hydrant cream, some coloured cream to cover her eyebags, face powder, eyeshadow, eyeliner.. at every new stroke of her little powder-puff, she would carefully inspect the result on the mirror she was holding with her left hand, her eyes moving swiftly form one corner to the other of her face.
Somehow I admired the effort she put in improving her look. Not much of a change between “before” and “after”. Once, long ago, I have been told that that is exactly how a good make up should be: it is there but you cannot actually notice it.
She might have been pretty in her 20’s but time and age did not forget about her. And make up- whatever good it may be, could not hide it.