Ireland, Part 3; The House & the Friary
After three days in Dublin, we were ready to embark on our driving tour across the island to our rented house near the wild and rural west coast. Our destination was Ennis in County Clare. I felt the need to be the one who drove the two hours across the island. Just opening the car door on what is normally the passenger side of the car felt immediately strange. Jamie and I discussed at length how we only needed to remember that the center line of the road should always be at our right shoulder, and we would be fine. Pulling out of the rental place I felt confident, "I was driving in Ireland!" Then, ten seconds later, when I had to turn left, I was suddenly screaming and freaking out as Jamie was yelling and pointing, "Stay to the left, stay to the left!" It never occurred to me, until my first turn while driving in traffic, how hard I would have to concentrate to simply stay in the correct lane. After I scolded Jamie for not doing his job of navigating and reminding me in advance of which lane I should be turning into (sorry, hon), we (actually, I) calmed down and really enjoyed the rest of our drive. The freeways in Ireland are easy to travel. Once we left the highways and arrived in the small towns with roads that are more properly called goat paths, however, it became glaringly clear that it was best for Jamie to drive and I would navigate.
Our house was perfect. Even better than the reviews on VRBO. We had a charming house nestled among rolling hills and next to a dairy farm. A swing set in the back yard, a fireplace, a hot tub in the separate carriage house. It was going to be a great home base for the next week. Making our stay here even better was the company of my dear friend, Jennifer, and her family. They greeted us at the home with a crate of Guinness (yes, a crate) and peat moss logs for the fireplace. The children ran through the house, happy to meet up again after our quick breakfast in Dublin. The weather in Ireland was exactly as I read it would be-- all four seasons in one day. This particular evening, the wind was whipping about wildly outside as we sat around the fireplace sharing our plans for the week and our Dublin stories.
Tomorrow was Palm Sunday, so I found an old church to visit; a Friary actually. Attending mass at the Franciscan Friary was exactly the sort of thing I was looking for during a vacation abroad... to be among the locals. As we sat in the church, I listened to the familiar sounds of the Catholic Palm Sunday mass, but the Irish brogue of the priest and the other readers made the experience feel exotic. For them, this was their typical Sunday; for us, it was an experience. After mass we had coffee and scones at a little coffee shop owned by a family who moved to Ennis from California, U.S.A. Small world.