Random observations...

I’m sitting at a coffee shop in Bray, watching people. Coffee shops in Ireland are totally different than in America. Here coffee and tea are a religion, and they seem to pray daily. There is a man sitting alone, with his coffee and paper, over there a group of women gossip loudly. An old couple, probably in their seventies, sit across from me, eating their sandwiches made of sausage and bread while sipping coffee. At another table still sits a mother with her young child. Similar to pubs and hostels, the coffee shop is a meeting place for all.

There are many different kinds of hostels. Some come with breakfast included, some not, though the price is usually reasonable, by Europe’s standards. To me, 4 euro for 2 slices of toast, a bowl of cereal, and coffee, is a bit pricey, but I pay it, because there is nothing else within a 3km walk. Some have hot showers, some are ice cold. Nothing is worse than a cold shower, especially when the room is cold and I can’t seem to get warm. Tepid showers are just as bad. As much as I love meeting new people, my favorite times were when the hostel was empty and I was left with my own thoughts, was able to reflect on where I’d been, what I’d seen. These times are precious in this people filled world, and I was fortunate to have three days of solitude in one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

The food tastes different here. The milk is whole milk, always, and it has an interesting taste, not bad, just different. The Guinness is different as well, though I can’t explain what the difference is. They rarely put condiments on sandwiches. No mustard, mayo, ketchup here, just bread and meat, maybe cheese if you are lucky.

But the biggest difference is the people. Even in the dark economic times, their quick wit, easy smile, and persistently good attitude toward life are infectious. They are never in too much of a hurry for a good conversation, and they enjoy talking to anyone, even Americans. They freely give their opinion and ask for yours in return. And it’s not just the Irish that I’ve noticed this about. Perhaps it’s the land we walk on, but even people from other countries living here seem to come out of their shell.

I met a man, Margo, from Lithuania walking back from my hike yesterday. He was a photographer as well, had been to Glendalough multiple times. Through broken English we had a great conversation regarding cameras, landscape photography, and the best places in Ireland. He seemed quiet and reserved at first, but quickly came out of his shell, even offered me a ride back to the hostel. This would not happen in America, the land where we lower our head, shy away from eye contact, and hurry along about our business.

Does this implicit trust make it safer here? Perhaps. I certainly felt safe, though I did not let my guard down. Perhaps the best way to be safe is to approach people head on and see what and who they are. It’s the Irish way.

Had a long talk with the long lost sister tonight over probably every topic imaginable, and I look forward to more long conversations tomorrow. Good night all!!