Category: Dingle Way

And so the Adventure Starts. And I am not in Ireland yet

by ritamason1249, posted in Dingle Way

Image may contain: 2 people, including Christy Neilsen McCoard, people smiling, eyeglasses, closeup and indoor

Image may contain: food

My grand-daughter, Christy and her family have created a “night before I leave on a walk” tradition. They throw a party for me! We celebrate by eating some “forbidden food”.  This is under the guise that there will be no good food (forbidden food) where I am going.  Right…. Well … any reasonable  sounding  excuse works to eat yummy stuff in abundance!

I believe it is important to plan your trip  before you go somewhere far away.  Lists of things to do, things to take, documentation needed, and schedules are created and examined repeatedly .

However, the universe has a sense of humor.  Things don’t always pan out no matter how many lists you beautifully create and review. Continue reading “And so the Adventure Starts. And I am not in Ireland yet” →

Finding where I might belong…. and perhaps finding my people

by ritamason1249, posted in Dingle Way, Walking the wild Alantic Coast of Ireland

Tonight I finished packing for my new adventure, walking the Dingle Way on the wild Atlantic coast of Ireland. I have been checking and rechecking my lists of things to do and not forget, like my passport, my air b & b reservations in Dublin, money, phone and on and on. It appears all things are in order.

Th  good news, I am going to a country where the people speak English; however on the Dingle way Gaelic is the language of choice.

It just dawned on me that I might be the first of my clan to go back to our homeland. My great-grand parents were from County Cork. They came to America in the 1800’s. Most of my family on this side of the family tree are long dead and gone. If they married, they had few children and generally died young. The only one that lived a very long life was my Great grand mother who died in her nineties. She was made of strong rural stock, whereas her children were raised in New York City. Most died in their late fifties or early sixties.

I wonder when I get to Ireland if it will feel familiar like I have come home.