If you think life is a long stretch of the mundane with an occasional sprinkling of the sublime, then you must not have been to Ireland. Everything is backwards here: the roads, the steering wheels in cars, the direction of roundabouts, even the brakes on bicycles. And yes, the ratio of mundane to sublime is reversed here as well.

I love that feeling you get when you’re in the middle of doing or seeing something that you know you will remember for a lifetime. I had that feeling so often here that at times it felt like a pleasant form of vertigo. Winding narrow roads with breathtaking vistas, dotted with meandering sheep, and holding your breath around blind curves; tiny villages rising up as you drive through the countryside, all bright colors and full of charm and welcoming; ancient rock walls dividing everything, even mountains; cliff edges inviting you to peek over if you’re brave enough, the wind gusting up to take your hat as you do; smiling and friendly people, quick to laugh or tease, making even the most ordinary thing sound extraordinary with their manner of speaking, more like bird song than speech.

Hemingway thought Paris was a moveable feast; I feel that way about our time here, a visit that will surely stay with me for the rest of my life. Thank you Ireland! Thanks a million!

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