I look out the window of the coach on our way to Cork from the Shannon airport and think of my roommate from home who would certainly see the Shire in this countryside that is so new to me. Cows and sheep share a pasture full of lumpy grass on rolling hills. Men dressed in trousers, plaid shirts and sweaters as they walk down the streets. Women with red hair and pale skin walk confidently with reusable bags full of “irish beef”, fresh produce and Murphys stout, and to me they all look the same. Like a child, once again the world is new to me. I see no noticeable difference in class. Our couch driver seems no different than the businessman driving his Mercedes (indeed, our vehicle is a Mercedes itself). His thick Irish accent has a noticeable undertone of joy that is infectiously contagious. Makes of cars that I have never heard of litter the streets and parking lots, and not surprisingly there is not a Ford in sight. Even the larger tractor-trailers seem rather modest compared to the semis that crowd 81.
Culture is noticeably different in even the smallest of ways. A man at ease, happily waiting as traffic takes its turn, replaces the authoritative stop hand pedestrians obey in the states. The walk light depicts a man cheerfully swinging his arms as he crosses the street that is named both in English and Gaelic. Even dogs are trusted, like the one I just saw freely following her owner across the street without a leash. The flats we are staying in at University College Cork have separate rooms for each student complete with separate baths. The common room has leather sofas, a television, a stove and a wooden faced refrigerator. There is not a scratch on the wall and the sofa has obviously been treated well. It is as if they trust their students to be responsible. Every outlet and appliance consciously has a switch on the wall and the water is turned on overnight while a “boost button” gives tenets the option to heat water at other times of the day. A compost bucket sits above the sink for eggshells, orange peels and napkins. To be emerged into such a socially and environmentally conscious society is unfortunately a brand new experience, but exciting nonetheless.
Styles range from the more conservative oxford sweaters to a mixture of grunge and punk, but friendly attitudes and a general ora of happiness (despite all the clouds and rain) suggest there is a since of pride in being Irish that rises above the superficial.
I am lifted up by this new place. I have forgotten what a thrill it is to have lost a since of complacency and be completely vulnerable to the environment around me. I am soaking in every detail around me and working the pieces like a puzzle trying to figure out how the Irish talk, dress and live, and most importantly why they do it that way.
This all may just be my tendency to romanticize. As the puzzle starts to fit together, I am sure I’ll find the worn and damaged pieces that I find so commonly in the states.
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