Life's a journey, not a destination

My Christmas travels began on the Marine corner bus stop in Ballycastle, Northern Ireland. It might have been 9:30am, but through the mist over the sea, it looked much later, as the first picture shows. The cliff is Fair Head, and it's one of the natural attractions of the north Antrim coast (which was named the 5th most beautiful places in the world, just so you know). We--Niki, Jason, and I--travelled by bus to Coleraine, and then train to Londonderry/Derry where we met up with Emma, a short-term volunteer at Corrymeela. Then we boarded the rickety bus of the Lough Nilly bus company, the only bus service that goes to Malin Head, the most northernly point in Ireland--our destination.


The bus ride was bumpy but uneventful. We were dropped off at a sign pointing toward the Sandrock Holiday Hostel. So we started walking. The hostel was about a mile away, perhaps, but the view of the setting sun (at 3:30pm) made it very worth it! We might have been quite giddy and excited about our choice of holiday spot at this point. We might have been nearly skipping and jumping up and down with our huge backpacks. And...we might have stopped occassionally to take pictures. Like of the old bathtubs that were in the pastures for the cattle to drink from. Or maybe people really take baths in the middle of the fields. No judging here... We knew we must be getting close to the hostel when we could again see water ahead of us. Our hostel was literally a stone's throw from the coastline. Everyday would could have watched the sun rise from our window--if we had been awake! We did watch it set every afternoon--we were always up by 3:30pm! We cooked, slept, read, wrote, walked, pubbed, slept, dined, wined, thought, and watched movies for four days here.
Then we again boarded the Lough Nilly and returned to Coleraine where we were picked up by a volunteer from Kilcranny House, another peace organization in Northern Ireland. We stayed with him for Christmas and had a lovely time.
After Christmas, we all split and went our seperate ways. I headed to the Republic of Ireland (seperate country from Northern Ireland, where I live), traded my British sterling pounds for Euros, and bussed my way down to Galway.

The train....
There's a saying that life is a journey, not a destination. This has never been more true for me than in my journey to Galway. Once in Galway, I didn't do a whole lot. I didn't really do anything that I couldn't have done in any other mid-sized Irish city. But the trip down was very interesting. I've decided that the Irish have an inexplicable need or desire to share their life stories with total strangers. On the train from Coleraine to Derry I met two people with connections to Corrymeela (small world!) and one of the them, a woman who lived in Northern Ireland but was raised in the Republic, told me about all of the places she's lived, the things she's done, her niece in Galway, and her opinions on any subject that was even hinted at. She must not have been any more than an inch over five feet, and her feet dangled from her train seat across the aisle from me. She struck me as a lonely person just wanting to be listened to. So I obliged.

The bus...
From Derry I picked up my bus that would eventually, in 5 hours, make it to Galway. After my interesting experience on the train, I was keen to have some quiet time to read, write, or listen to music. But that wasn't in the cards. Twenty minutes into the trip, the bus started to fill, and an old woman sat down next to me. She didn't waste too much time in striking up conversation. In the space of the remaining 4 hours, I knew far more than I ever imagined necessary about this woman! I knew where she had been and why, where she was going, where she grew up, about her family, her education, her religion, and everything she knew about whatever we were passing by. And she asked all the questions of me to learn the same information about me! I teeter-totted back and forth between being a tad annoyed and completely amused. But mostly I was amused. The woman was a complete sweetheart. She told me that she lived several miles outside Galway, and that if she lived closer to the city she would have taken me home with her so I wouldn't have to stay in a hostel! She asked if I would be cooking for myself in the hostel, and I said that yes, I would be. So she insisted that I take the sandwiches and giant piece of Christmas pudding that her daughter-in-law had sent with her! I tried to resist, but I could sense that the grandmother instinct in her was not worth arguing against. So I thankfully gave in. With a mischievious grin, she told me that the pudding had real whiskey in it and that I'd better not eat it all at once! I laughed and said that I wouldn't. Good thing, too! Even half of the portion had enough alcohol in it to have an effect! It was very good.
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The end!!!
I realize that very few will make it all the way to this point of the post. Too much text and too little photos, I know. So I'll end this one here and finish review of my break with another post, another day.