Refugee in Ireland – review in pictures

I’m stranded on an island. An oceanic protrusion comparable to the state of West Virginia—home to four million humans, a noisy assortment of birds, innumerable pubs, and at least one dead seal. Although it was my choice to come to the Emerald Isle, I was positive at the start of the adventure that my visit was limited to one week.

I arrived as something of a refugee, Germany having determined ninety days as I the limit of my stay, yet being fine with my return after getting a stamp in my passport. So, I decided to visit my friend Rachel who is a barista for a ministry coffee shop in Galway, Ireland.

From Friday to Wednesday we talked, hung out with friends and walked by the bay. Since paying for accommodation wasn’t appealing to me, I stowed away in Rachel’s room without the knowledge of Mike the Manager nor Susan the Owner. This meant clandestine activities, such as leaving the house quietly during the morning meeting and arriving back at the coffee shop after closing time. Rachel’s small rooms were located two stories above the shop, so clever footwork down the stairs was required. I came for long intervals to the shop when my legs ached from exploring the town.

The locals are pleasant people, prone to chattiness, drunkenness, and teasing. God blessed the weather with my arrival, and so far, every day the sun has warmed the cool spring air. Historical and modern life blend together in this port town, known for its partying students. Smoking is as common as breathing here, and with the poor health system, it’s a miracle so many individuals walk around in slim bodies.

A small canal flows slowly by Rachel’s coffee shop. The water is tinted copper, and beneath the white foam bits and cruising ducks rests a variety of beer cans, metal chairs, glass, and sundry other unwanted items. I guess you could say that the river runs with Guinness here, but more from deification and trash than an earth spring.

Thursday, after a successful run for the 6am train from Galway to Dublin, a nap on the train, a bus to the airport, and hurrying through the crowds to get to the RyanAir counter, it dawned on me that something was amiss. I found out that all the flights out of Dublin had been canceled due to a volcanic eruption in Iceland.

Simon, being the resourceful, caring fiance that he is immediately called his family in England to see if they had any connections to someone I could stay with in Dublin. I waited around for the reply, but eventually decided it would be better to invite myself back to Rachel’s.

Sunday shone with another bright Irish sun. However, things were not so optimistic for my travels. The airlines found the situation still too hazardous and delayed flights again til Wednesday. The next time I could find to switch my flight to was Friday. That’s tomorrow.

Meteorologists have predicted a change in the wind current for tomorrow. I just hope that it changes fast enough to blow the plumes back north before my morning flight.

So once again, I’m sitting in my favorite coffee shop, soaking in all the caffeinated goodness possible.

(The pictures are from my trip to Cliffdon in the beautiful Irish countryside, and in Galway.)

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