In three days it will have been exactly a year since I first came to live in Ireland. So much is different this time around. I look back and remember the initial terror of leaving my friends and family and everything familiar and moving to a country I loved deeply, but wasn't sure could love me back.
In my time here I have grown so deeply in love with this nation, specifically the Burren. I've also learned so much about who I am as a person (long, winter nights with limited internet and no TV will do that to you). I have learned a variety of ways to prepare cabbage and potatoes, and how to (if necessary) wake up to tea instead of coffee in the mornings. I've learned to open cans without a can opener, to walk through fields of cows and sheep without being scared, to heat my house with only a peat-burning stove and to sleep soundly with the knowledge that my room is filled with spiders.
I've learned to navigate the bus system in summer and winter, to forage blackberries and hazelnuts while walking to school, to curse fluently and fearlessly when the situation calls for it, and sometimes when it doesn't, to appreciate the classically Irish humor of Father Ted, to appreciate the even
more fantastic humor of Black Books, to judge a person ultimately by how they treat others, but still derive great pleasure from slagging them for everything else.
I've learned to cultivate simple pleasures like lighting a candle, memorizing a poem, knacker-drinking with my coworkers, putting real cream in my coffee, and smoking 'sweet killarney' from a pipe.
I've learned to trust a little more, and allow myself to grow and learn with others, and to admit when I'm wrong, rude or just a bit weird. I've learned that there are people in this world that are genuinely good, and gentle, and kind, and generous for no reason, other than to make life a little better for someone else.
I've learned that there's no shame in old shoes, cold kitchens, and outdated phones.
I've learned that there's more to the world than can be seen, and that, sometimes superstitions are rooted in pieces of truth. I've learned that things really do feel different on Halloween or during a full moon, and that some houses sing or cry when no one's home to drown out the sound with conversation. That roads built over fairy raths have alarming numbers of accidents and fatalities and that single magpies must
always be saluted.
I've learned that power, religious, political, or even familial corrupts, and have seen the scars that English and even Catholic rule have both left on the land and people in this part of the world, I've heard the sorrow in the songs, and the anger in the poetry. I've worn green on St. Patrick's day and walked the length of Fanore behind cows, sheep, motorcycles, a bagpiper, and a float filled with Simpsons characters.
I've learned that there's something special about the men in this country. That there's significantly fewer 'guessing games', and far less pettiness than I found back home. That conversation, courtesy, and consideration are still valued even by people my own age, and that my opinions and desires are taken seriously. Sometimes even more carefully and respectfully than I'm used to or comfortable with.
I've learned that racism is everywhere, and that it's never pretty.
I've learned that the vast majority of songs I grew up hearing sung on the island were not written by my family, but are actually very old, very traditional Irish folk songs. I've also learned that Luke Kelly's recording of any song is always the definitive recording, and will never hope to be topped. The man's voice, hair, beard, and spirit are legendary.
I've also learned that Cillian Murphy is short in person, but more beautiful than he is on TV…which is saying a lot.
I've learned that stereotypes aren't always accurate (example: here in my village, I only know one person named Seamus and one Paddy. Nearly all the other men I know around town are named Robert, Richard, Michael, Martin, David, or John).
But I've also learned that some stereotypes are spot on...
...like that few things are as satisfying as a pint of Guinness after a long day at work, and that it's important to find something to laugh at in every stressful situation. I've learned that beetroot isn't a bad vegetable, but that chips with communal pepper sauce is the dinner of champions.
I've learned about cults, and brainwashing, and institutional and religious abuse, and that fundamental Catholicism and fundamental Baptist churches look shockingly similar in cause, practice, and their ultimate effect on their victims, but that those who have come out the other side can show remarkable and inspiring levels of empathy, compassion, and generosity towards a world that showed them so little.
I've learned that a good mattress and good shower pressure are not necessarily a given, and that real friends and supportive family are also priceless blessings that not everyone has access to. I've grown to appreciate my loved ones so much over this last year, both in Ireland and in the US.
Through some very sad, and unfortunate events, I've come to realize this year that sometimes family doesn't behave like family. That people who are meant to hold each other up in love can be cruel, petty, vindictive, jealous, and desperately hateful without cause and for no discernible reason. Through this, I've learned that the family I have left, the real family who support each other through everything, are truly priceless. Throughout this year and my physical separation from everyone I've come to appreciate so much about my family and non-related family.
I didn't anticipate the raw, gnawing feeling of being separated from everyone I know and love, and just how far away from each other we actually are, in spite of FaceTime, Skype, and other forms of social media.
Nothing compares to a weekend of Thai food, Arrested Development, and venting about life's annoyances over coffee or beer, and there are few things anywhere as satisfying as stuffing my face with a rum bun, and receiving zero judgement from Elizabeth and Emma, or muddling berries and creating Ironbound-inspired cocktails with Miriam. I miss those moments more than almost anything else.
…except cuddling with Scout in the mornings.
…and lobster rolls.
It occurred to me this morning that this time next year, it's likely, or at least possible that I won't be in Ireland anymore. Suddenly all of my annoyances at the current wind and rain situation, the lack of affordable Mexican food at Spar, and the fact that I haven't washed my face with warm water in months seem arbitrary and the "I can't leave" panic sets in. This place is quickly becoming home. This ancient place where the people I come from were born and died for thousands of years before I was born in America. It's the place my soul feels alive and at peace, and a place I'm certainly not ready to leave. I've resolved to make the absolute best out of this second year in the Burren. I'm already making preparations for visitors.
aaaaaaand…if anyone's curious,
although I've moved twice, my mailing address is still the same:
Amanda Patten
Newtown Castle
Burren College of Art
Ballyvaughan, County Clare
Ireland
(we don't do area codes here).
I'm always in need of Trader Joe's salted caramel chocolate bars, Cookie Butter, chipotle chilies, and burt's bees chapstick. Just…if anyone wonders.
Slainte!
