Matt, Casey, Me!, Silas, Stephanie, Claire, Annie, Jamie, and Anthony
Nine of us, in a taxi, chased two Irishmen around Tipperary.
It wasn’t your average field trip. It was pure adventure. Our day began early with a three hour bus ride heading south out of Dublin. Professor Anthony O’Halloran greeted us at the bus stop with hugs and handshakes; a real Irish welcome. He shuffled us into a cafe where we sipped on coffee and munches on scones and toast.
Without warning, his partner in crime showed up. Well, one of them. They shook hands and his friend, Seannie, a local politician and extremely good slagger, took a seat at our table. He asked us about home, which we told him was snowy, and our majors. Let me tell you, listening to Silas explain Graphic Design as quite funny. Anthony had explained he was taking part in a charity which explained why he was wearing a winter hat in the morning sun. He was sponsored by numerous people to shave his head and raised money for a local hospice.
The day was a mess of discovering parts of Ireland people drive past everyday and never take time to stop and look around. We looked at a memorial, which Seannie created, for children taken from their families and placed in a house where they learned to work, sew, and clean; a well once used to bless women with fertility; we looked at a castle, once occupied by... the post man; and the entire valley which Tipperary lays in from the top of a mountain.
Post Man Castle
Throughout our trip, it seemed half of everything was planned. All of our planned activities were wonderful; however, I felt that when the two Irishmen hopped in the little silver car we chased, they were saying, “What else can we show these kids?”
Anthony beating Casey in a race :-)
When we looked out over the valley, Anthony opened the taxi door and said, “I was thinking about you when I planned this!” It was the most beautiful Ireland I had ever seen. However, there was one other place where I felt more at home than anywhere in the past two months.
We went to a farm. I was jealous of Willy, the farmer and friend of Anthony’s, Wellington boots, and disappointed I didn’t have my Muck’s because all I wanted to do was walk through the “Maternity Ward” of the farm and see the most recently born calf. She was about six hours old. Yet, I did spend a solid ten minutes letting one of the calves, about two weeks old, suck on my fingers. My classmates looked at me like I was insane, but she didn’t have teeth, or any formula left in his bucket; she was longing for some attention.
I felt at home. Before we left the farm, Willy’s wife insisted we come in for tea. Our cups of tea were accompanied by finger sandwiches, cookies, and a sweet, raisin filled bread. Willy, his wife, their two sons, and daughter, Orla, sat and discussed having a couch in the kitchen, the weather in Vermont, and of course, football. Anthony and his friends laughed about the many times they sat at the kitchen table together. They were a family.
Willy, Seannie, and Anthony
At the end of our day with Anthony, we sat down at a pub for a pint. Just throwing it out there, “going for a pint” is simply a figure of speech. More importantly, at that pub I made a friend. I don’t know his name, and to be honest, his name doesn’t matter much. He was sitting next to the fireplace with his grandson. Seeing how his grandson was about ten, the little boy sipped on Coca-Cola through a straw while he put back straight Jameson.
I was standing next to the fireplace and he insisted I sit down at the table with him. He asked about my day, and I told him that I had found “the Ireland I had been looking for.” We talked about the farm, the potential fishing spots in the area, and most importantly, how people in Tipperary ask you to sit down at their table. Our conversation made me think of a quote I had seen on a wall at the Guinness Storehouse. I said, “Home isn’t where you’re from, but where they understand you.”
The man, his grandson, and I tapped our glasses together.
“Cheers.”
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