Country roads, take me home.Narrow roads with plenty of potholes, where an unsuspecting sheep could be standing around the next corner, where everyone drives with reckless abandon. This is Ireland. Being a passenger in an Irish car is a roller-coaster ride, scary but absolutely exhilarating. Going around a hairpin bend at breakneck speed, close your eyes and clutch at your seat, give up your hope of living another hour. It helps if you are a little bit drunk, but not unfrequently the driver is too. The trees close in around the car. Suddenly, a mountain vista opens up.
This time, we took a taxi to go 45 kilometers. An expensive way to travel, but public transport would mean a travel time of three hours on a roundabout route. The country roads took us up over the mountains. I had had the foresight to check the weather report to make sure the mountain pass was open since anyone could see that the mountains were covered in snow, but hadn't counted on the fact that the taxi driver was Nigerian and had no experience of driving in icy conditions...
We survived. And the mountains and the snow and the silence were breathtaking and beautiful. Skidding into the valley on the other side, we discovered everything was green and the birds were singing in the sun. I swear, the garden of Eden is located in Ireland.
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