I've heard that a common comment that people make when visiting Ireland is that it isn't as green as they had imagined. I feel that way too. Especially when driving out to Connemara. The brown and green hills remind me of Northern California in the spring. Also, the weather Gods have made a point of setting the temperature in the high 60s or low 70s whenever I visit a new place. With plenty of sunshine, at least for the first few days. Alaska, France, England, and now Ireland. Same refrain from the natives, "you know, it's usually not like this at all" when describing the weather. Just lucky I guess.
"Connemara" derives from the tribal name Conmacne Mara, which designated a branch of the Conmacne, an early tribal grouping. Since they lived by the sea, they became known as the Conmacne Mara. (Sea in Irish is muir, genitive mara, hence "of the sea".)
The sand on the beach was extremely fine in places, almost like talc. I felt a sense of welcoming calm after walking on the beach, feet in the sand. The graveyard touched something inside me. Perhaps the image of those buried so close to the water’s edge, forever looking seaward, listening to the surf. Kirsty said the Irish believe that being buried next to the sea gives them an easier passage to the next life.
The sound of the surf is one of my favorite sounds, as is rainfall. Water is positive in my life, the sound of it, the green it produces, the storms, the cleansing.
The few people here seem to be within themselves and their world, not seemingly in tune with others around them. Some read, others walked along the beach, a couple sat and watched the water. No sounds, apart from the surf and the occasional voice carried by the wind.
I was captured by the light, watching it change as the clouds moved across the sky, infusing pastel-like softness to everything at times. I was drawn into it and soon understood the couple just sitting, watching the water.
The water was not as cold as I expected it to be. However, only my feet went in, unlike Benjamin, who decided to swim a bit.
The boats and traps sitting along the dock were intriguing to me as the light moved about their surface. The contrasting colors were very pleasing and seemingly begged to be painted on canvas as well as captured through my lens.
I would like to spend some time in this place, especially to witness a storm lashing the coast, and to walk the beach after, looking for treasure. The air is fresh and clean, crisp with the scent of the sea. It has traveled far across the ocean, no land between where it started (from Iceland?) and the west coast of Ireland.
Benjamin's house (with car in front). Not the thatched cottage, with the smoke in the chimney and the thistle hedge surrounding the land, that I was imagining.
The next pictures are from Connemara.
My sandal-tanned foot.
The light was mesmerizing at times.
There's that woman again.
Benjamin showing off his tan.
Benjamin and Cathriona (sounds like Katrina).
It is nice to relax a bit and take in the sights and sounds without always thinking I need to take a picture because I will be leaving soon. The first days in Galway I didn't take any pictures, except for Benjamin's house. Still haven't. Galway will be a canvas slowly drawn. There is a strong vibe to this place and I want to see where that leads.
Pokój my friends! I miss you all very much!
(Polish for Peace)
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