"Scarecrows dressed in the latest styles, frozen smiles to chase love away; human kindness is overflowing and I think it's going to rain today...Lonely, lonely, tin can at my feet, think I'll kick it down the street, that's the way to treat a friend...And I think it's going to rain today..."
[-Bette Middler]
Thursday forecast, rain, a whole lotta rain...
The clouds are stretched out in the crisp Dublin sky, dark and angry. And I am late, late, late for a very important date. Can't a girl catch a break around here?! Oh well, I tuck my hands into the corners of my jean jacket, straighten up my spine, and make my way down the street.
I'm in Temple Bar looking for my landmark but I take a wrong turn and it's all a maze of alley ways, and store fronts, and garbage men, and morning suits with coffee and umbrellas and Alice searching for the white rabbit. Damn my lack of geography skills, sorry Mr. Henderson, I should have paid more attention to that 6th grade geography class...
I check my watch, if I don't make it to the Paddywagon tour pick up point in exactly seven minutes time, I'll miss the Cliffs of Mohr and end up buried under the covers in my hotel room, consoling myself with some form of chocolate- As I feel my tears begin to fall, I look up and see an elderly suit with a newspaper standing at the street light in front of me and I call out, "Excuse me sir but I'm trying to find the Molly Malone statue, you know the Tart With the Cart (Dubliner's translation...) Am I close?" His eyes twinkle with mischief and he let's a hearty laugh followed by a smoker's cough and takes his newspaper and says "The tart is that way, cross the road, head straight, you'll see the gates to Trinity and she'll be just left up a ways, not more than five minutes time." The light turns and I call out to him as I am running up the street, "Thank you and have the best day ever!" And in my echo of running steps, I hear a fading laugh, cough, laugh.
Out of breath, I arrive as the last passenger with about thirty seconds to spare. A quick scan of the bus and I have limited seating options so I take the first open seat next to a woman who seems to be around my age if not a few years younger. At first, I think she's alone and so I try to make some semblance of small talk with her, you know, the kind with the underlying subliminal message that screams, "PLEASE BE MY FRIEND..."
Spoiler alert: We did not become Facebook friends, or otherwise...
As it turns out, Sammy, my seatmate is with her two BFF's and they are not looking to audition a fourth member of their gang.
It's a strange thing, that moment when you are faced with the fact that you are alone in another country, lonely, because you are alone. And I could feel that- and I thought of all of the people that I miss the most and wish for a moment that they might materialize before me but it's just Sammy, sitting in the opposite direction of her seat, laughing with her friends and trading phones, to see what so and so posted and do I look fat in that, and did you know that hot guy was totes checking you out last night and we should hit up O' Neil's Pub tonight...
So I throw my headphones on and close my eyes and every now and then I watch the evolution of the Irish countryside unfold before me.
We make a few stops- Kinvara, the fishing village, and then to Doolin for lunch before the Cliffs and I head to Fitzpatrick's Pub. I stand in the que and order my lunch and it's crowded but I see an empty four top and we have a strict schedule and so I commit high treason and I sit down, alone. And the glares start at first subtle, but quickly audible. I'm a bit upset but then this couple asks the people sitting next to me if there is any open seats at their table as it is a long table but they shake their heads and I look up and say "You can sit here, if you'd like." And they are grateful for the invitation. We make some small talk, all of us universally agreeing that the seafood chowder easily beats San Francisco and Boston combined- we talk about Dublin, and the Cliffs- they tell me that they think I'm brave for coming to Ireland alone and soon, we part ways, each heading off to our respective tour groups.
Before we get to the actual Cliffs, our driver stops at a location that the locals refer to as the Mini Cliffs. It's so beautiful. And we have about fifteen minutes to stretch and walk around. And this ladies and gentlemen will forever go down in history as the time that Jillian fell off a cliff in Ireland...cue overly dramatic movie score...
I'm officially starting a new blog entitled "Stupid Shit That Tourists Do" and it will be inspired by the following:
I get off the tour bus and there is another tour coach that pulls up too. The rush of people is madness- the Cliffs, mini or otherwise are not going anywhere folks, slow your roll people but no, no one slows anything and I have been moving a bit slower these last few days and I had a moment where I couldn't catch my breath and so I had to pause, unfortunately it was not well timed and the couple behind me did not get the memo that I was going to take a moment...And suddenly I was pitched forward, I took a bit stone down with me, nothing like truly embracing history right?! And in an attempt not to face plant, I employed an old dance move and drew my knees up and tried to slow the force of my fall with my hands...And we all fall down...I landed smack on my knees, ouch...So my left knee cap is black and blue, my right knee cap is blueish purple and green and I have a lovely little skin rash that will probably be a battle scar, mores the glory...
And so there you have it, Jillian fell off a cliff in Ireland...
We get to the real Cliffs and we have about an hour and half. I make my way up the trail and diverge to the left. The Cliffs are something that I knew I would have to be careful with in terms of asthma and heart issues because the incline in the trails and the altitude can be a shady cocktail and so I walk in small stages, pausing. And I don't mind it at all because truth be told, it's all so breathtaking that I could stand in one spot and never quite stand there long enough. I climb as high as I can and there is a short window in which the sun intermingles with the looming gray clouds and the rain drizzles light- I don't take as many photo's as I ought to because I just want to stay in this moment. In an instant the fog begins to roll in, thick and dark, and the rain starts to pour down and I make my way slowly back to the flat land of the visitor's center. It is cold and vibrant and full- this moment as with every point on this journey, it to becomes one more piece to tuck away carefully into the corners of my heart.
The lonely of the day stirs up in me as we drive slowly back into the city. And I allow it to exist within me, to feel it to it's core, to not run away from it- and I tell myself that so as it was before, it is too now, both lovely and ugly the same.
We get into Dublin at half seven and I am worn out. Emotionally. Physically.
I am barely at the feet of the Ha'Penny Bridge, the last time that I will cross over, and the rain begins to fall and I think to myself it is like sorrow falling from the sky. People become a blur. And I don't bother with my umbrella, I just walk.
I walk with Dublin in my bones. Gritty. And electric. Light. And dark. Sorrow. And joy. Broken. And bent. Lovely. And ugly the same.
My feet kick at the ground. The rain wraps me up and carries me home. As I round the corner to Parnell Square West, there is a woman sitting on her porch, smoking a cigarette, her features worn as much as my heart, and for a moment our eyes meet and I offer her the only thing that I can, a smile, as if to say, I understand. And you are not alone.
-Jillian Nichole, what's a little rain...
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