Addition to the recap of 2018:
Ireland in April: A country looking more worn-down but with the same fabulous seafood and friendliness. I showed my friends my previous life.
Blackbirds in a Dublin park,
rain and hot fires, wandering around my Magic Valley forever, watching
sheepdogs at work, feeling absurdly happy on a cramped bus on a rainy
morning, finding the sun over hot chocolate on a vast beach, having my
first reflexology treatment, not finding a pub in Dublin but running
straight into a Romanian midnight church celebration, crawling into the
5200-year-old Newgrange tomb, a music session on the happy west coast, the spectacular and strangely unknown
Slieve League, terrible back roads where the speed limits are the most
optimistic (not to say homicidal) in the world, a joyous Monday night
pub crawl in Monaghan.
Quote of the trip: "Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back." (I.e. my rather optimistic estimate of the time a particular walk would take us. My friends never believed me again.)
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