Jun 29, 2000
Fresh from the other side of the Atlantic: Hibernia, the old sod, Eire, home, the sow that eats her farrow... Actually, it seemed far more benign than JJ's moniker for his deserted muse. D. and I spent a magical ten days in Connemara sandwiched by familial visits in Dublin. Two weeks, the statutory vacation time, seemed cruelly short. But today, my first day off since return, reminded me how this time can refurbish the soul. The cooler weather of today in Manhattan had me wandering the streets and relishing the juxtaposition of Ireland and New York. It seems to me the perfect pairing, and my Gemini self wishes it could flit more frequently between the heteregeneous streets of New York and the dense homogeneity of Ireland. We ate well, as we always do, wherever we are. We drank well, as we always do. We are indulgent and don't seem to suffer too much guilt. We drove one and a half hours to purchase the hindquaters of a Connemara spring lamb in the town of Cong, Co. Mayo, which we marinated in port in a bucket and transported back to Dublin for a BBQ. The barbecue was borrowed from a friend, one returned from America, and my father emerged from the house and inquired if the barbecue was battery operated. He had never seen one before. Neither had he ever eaten the indigenous lamb in such a delicious guise. Wandering has its benefits, though they are difficult to define precisely. My friends in Ireland appear to have been tackling the underpopulation of their isle with a personal fervour. One's ovaries always ache a little during and after a visit there. They make childrearing look simpler and more of a necessity. However, all of that energetic investigation undertaken in one's early/mid-twenties, and late too, was postponed for many of them with the responsibility of caring for infants. Those infants are now half grown and some of their parents are itching to carry on in the way I remember doing so when I first arrived on these shores. It makes for interesting encounters. Some of the women have a sweet and desperate look in their eyes.
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Fresh from the other side of the Atlantic: Hibernia, the old sod, Eire, home, the sow that eats her farrow... Actually, it seemed far more benign than JJ's moniker for his deserted muse. D. and I spent a magical ten days in Connemara sandwiched by familial visits in Dublin. Two weeks, the statutory vacation time, seemed cruelly short. But today, my first day off since return, reminded me how this time can refurbish the soul. The cooler weather of today in Manhattan had me wandering the streets and relishing the juxtaposition of Ireland and New York. It seems to me the perfect pairing, and my Gemini self wishes it could flit more frequently between the heteregeneous streets of New York and the dense homogeneity of Ireland. We ate well, as we always do, wherever we are. We drank well, as we always do. We are indulgent and don't seem to suffer too much guilt. We drove one and a half hours to purchase the hindquaters of a Connemara spring lamb in the town of Cong, Co. Mayo, which we marinated in port in a bucket and transported back to Dublin for a BBQ. The barbecue was borrowed from a friend, one returned from America, and my father emerged from the house and inquired if the barbecue was battery operated. He had never seen one before. Neither had he ever eaten the indigenous lamb in such a delicious guise. Wandering has its benefits, though they are difficult to define precisely. My friends in Ireland appear to have been tackling the underpopulation of their isle with a personal fervour. One's ovaries always ache a little during and after a visit there. They make childrearing look simpler and more of a necessity. However, all of that energetic investigation undertaken in one's early/mid-twenties, and late too, was postponed for many of them with the responsibility of caring for infants. Those infants are now half grown and some of their parents are itching to carry on in the way I remember doing so when I first arrived on these shores. It makes for interesting encounters. Some of the women have a sweet and desperate look in their eyes.
- rachael 6-30-2000 2:35 am