March brings with it several things: March Madness (I’m more of a football girl, myself). The start of springtime. And good ol’ St. Paddy’s Day.
Now, there’s a really neat Christian backstory in the life of St. Patrick the man, but when I think of St. Patrick’s Day, it floods me with fond memories from March 2012, back when things were simpler, when we thought the world was going to end because of the Mayan calendar, and when there was less hand sanitizer around. That March, in my senior year of college, I got to visit Ireland live and in person.
The trip was part of an honors class (I was even able to convince my professor to let it count toward my English major—score!). Each of us was tasked with presenting about several of the landmarks on our itinerary—I got the Hill of Tara and the Rock of Cashel—and then we had to come up with a project based on our major.
As an English major, I chose to write a short story. I based it on the Lia Fáil or Stone of Destiny, which stands proudly among the other ancient monuments and mounds at the Hill of Tara. Because Tara was said to be the seat of the high king of Ireland, the stone features prominently in Irish mythology where it would roar if the next rightful king touched it. Writing about ancient mythological history certainly involved lots of research and lots of imagination (and hey, I got a passing grade!).
Then came the actual trip. I remember having to roll out of bed at an unnatural hour of the morning to make it to the airport. Our professor kept reminding us to sleep on the plane, but when you put a group of college students and in-flight movies together, what do you get? Multi-movie marathons. As soon as we hopped off the plane, our tour guides immediately swept us away to our first location, Newgrange, and needless to say, my severely jet-lagged brain barely made it through. As past me wrote in my travel journal at the time: “Well, I’m here. I’m in Ireland and dead tired.”
We wandered all across Ireland: dancing lessons in Dublin, Medieval dining at Bunratty Castle, fogbound sightseeing around the Ring of Kerry, gale-force winds at the Cliffs of Moher. And so much more. It was exhausting and exhilarating and absolutely enchanting.
Driving through the Irish countryside seems to transport you to a fantasy world. The lush green landscape is dotted with all kinds of sheep and hedgerows and crumbling castles. The feeling you get is wild, ancient, and somewhat mysterious (a far cry from the pine forests and meticulous corn fields where I grew up). And for a writer, that kind of setting is all I need to get my imagination muscles flexing. That’s probably why the Irish feature heavily in my first novel (coming this November!).
By the time we got to our last site, we’d all but burned through our last stores of energy. Half of us stayed on the bus (including me) to get in a little nap while the other half toured yet another stone monument. I don’t know if it was smart trying to fit that much into one trip, but I’m thankful we did. I guess college students are pretty hardy. We survived.
Now almost 10 years and many, many trips later, Ireland is still one of my favorite jaunts. Some memories have begun to fade, but some remain vivid and inspire my writing even today. Here’s hoping I’ll get to return one day!
