March 7, 2006

stairwell accompaniment:U2

We sat at the coffeeshop table covered in travel books and guides and maps and we dreamed far and wide. We plotted our course as if we knew this foreign land as our own. Mapped our routes and resolved to adventure.

We had planned a vagabond holiday of wandering–relying on campgrounds and intuition and affability as if this road would be the one to lead us home. (or maybe, hopefully, that we would carry home to this road.) And the seasons we hope to live on the road begin here and now and I can only hope that our marriage will grow inwardly and outwardly. That going far and wide together will push us deeper into this mysterious, esoteric Oneness.

Transatlantic midnight flights. Euro-cars. Backpacks. Arguments. Spontaneity. Ireland by foot and London by night.

So wayfarers we are in our travels. And Saturday, exactly 14 days before we board for the Emerald Isle– backpacks full of granola bars and socks and a tent of gloriousness unlike the gloriousness of ANY OTHER tent– I realize that Irish campgrounds consider March a month suitably cold enough to keep their facilities closed. March is off-season. And our visions of camping grandeur nearly crumble onto our hiking boots.

Josh–the man who hath the spirit that refuseth to be dampened by the thought of cheap hotels, hostels or bed&breakfasts (accommodations of far lesser forms)–suggests that we camp on whatever Irish soil our tired heads feel the inclination to rest upon. He goes on to access Google Earth and use satellite imaging to locate an apt large and grassy area in Clare County, Ireland. An area just. large. and. grassy. enough. for two sleeping bags. I married him. He is my husband. The love of my life who thinks it is reasonable to make international sleeping accommodations by pioneering “free land” via internet satellite. I married him willingly. Excitedly even!

My husband- the man who will become my personal chauffeur in our euro-car (opposite side of the car, opposite side of the road) by default simply because his first car (the beloved VW bug, may she rest in peace) happened to be a stick-shift. Mine, unfortunately, was not. Once again, his intelligence supersedes mine and I am at his mercy in my inability to drive any automobile that requires knowledge of foreign terms such as “gear” or “clutch”. I AM the abiding Irish co-captain and my cheeky captain has a high affinity for authentic Irish pubs. Guinness. Spirits.

Pray for adventure, for surely we’ll encounter it. We leave in under 12 days and we strongly believe that safety, security, comfort is far too overrated. We are now living the stories that we hope become tales for our grandchildren’s grandchildren.


One Response to “Cork”

  1. Schmanda said

    i miss you two so much…my roadtrip companions…and i am jealous. enjoy the adventure.

    send. many. pictures. to. Africa.

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