Ireland Pt. 2 - You don’t win friends with salad

So, we got Rebecca to watch The Big Lebowski. Well, half of it. It was late and she had to leave the next morning. We woke up early Friday morning to make sure she got to the airport with plenty of time to go through security and customs, which they ended up doing in the US anyway, I left Rebecca at the security entrance and headed back into City Center where I took the train to Booterstown, where Bashir works. We had agreed to meet for lunch, but as I had several hours until then I walked along a footpath near the beach to Black Rock, where we were to meet. I stopped at one point, went up some stairs and down to the other side to dip my feet in the cold water. I had wanted to do so since our arrival in Ireland. I love the feeling of sand beneath my feet, between my toes, soft and grainy, molding to each step. I was completely alone too. I had passed maybe 3 people along the path, and no one was here. I enjoyed the solitude. The only sound was the wind lapping slowly against the water, and the water in turn creeping up the sand. I enjoyed the wind against my face, blowing my hair lightly from side to side. I enjoyed the water momentarily freezing my ankles. And for a brief moment, I thought, I could die here, and no one would know. The nearest houses were really only a few hundred feet away, just over the wall, and yet, there was complete solitude. I felt separated from everyone and everything. I felt calm. This was not the same feeling of solitude I get in NY, where despite the crowds, the hundreds upon hundreds of people, I still feel alone. And every now and then I want to shriek and scream. I want to yell Fuck you NY!!! But not in Ireland. This was a different alone.
Bashir and I met for lunch in the small town of Black Rock. I think I may have eaten goat cheese every day I was in Ireland. We ate a quick lunch and instead of taking the train back to Booterstown, which was a 20-minute wait, we walked back in about 15. I went up to Orix with him to say bye and passed on my “I’m a Batman Crime fighter” for Katherine to give her son Christopher, who is known as Batman and Batsy. I headed back into Dublin and spent some time relaxing at Bashir’s and getting my stuff together. Not that there was a lot to get together. When Bashir returned we headed to the Ferryman to watch that night’s match, then back to his place to finish The Big Lebowski.
We spent Saturday watching movies. I really did not want to o anywhere because I get anxious before a flight and wanted to make sure I was on time. It’s not even the flight itself that makes me anxious, but airports. Not only am I now used to being treated like a threat, but airports are like hospitals, cold and sterile, uninviting, and filled with supposed experts who can never give a direct or clear answer. Our flight now had to stop in Shannon to pick up people whose plane was experiencing technical difficulties. When I got on the plane and saw just how empty it was, and then saw that everyone in Shannon filled it up right quick, my suspicions were confirmed. They had already planned this stop. How else would they have known to not fill up the Dublin flight?
But compared to Rebecca’s experience, my flight was heaven, even if they did show us Fool’s Gold, a movie so bad I could not even zone out to it, but had to sleep. While Bashir and I were at the Ferryman Friday night Rachel called saying that Rebecca’s flight was listed as canceled online. That, of course, freaked me out. It had been over 10 hours since I left her at Dublin airport and there was no word from her. I tried to not let on to Rachel that I was scared. That was the last thing she needed. I tried calling Aer Lingus and could not get through. Rachel finally called back as she had been told that Rebecca’s flight went to JFK and then she would be getting home from there. Turns out that that Rebecca’s flight, which was scheduled as 12, was delayed for 2 hours. They were told that in 2 hours an update would be given. So around 2 they were told to wait for one more hour. Then at 3 they were told the flight had been canceled and the options were to either wait until the next morning and try to get on a plane to Dulles then, which was no guarantee, or to fly to JFK and get themselves home from there. Rebecca chose to board the JFK flight and purchased herself a ticket back to Dulles. She, smartly, wrote Aer Lingus a letter about their lack of support for customers and that the situation should have been dealt with differently, so they reimbursed her flight. I have to say; I thought they would fight her on that.
I managed to sleep through most of my flight, which is good because I was feeling a panic attack looming and picking up on some serious nervous energy from the guy sitting next to me. This was the first flight where I had ever gotten nauseous. The pilot dove in for the landing and I swear he did it like 3 times. I felt my stomach jump in waves and I thought for sure I would puke. So I decided to lean forward with my head bent down, and take deep breaths. It definitely helped. Finally we landed and did not have to wait on the plane for too long.
The gorgeous non-humid weather of Ireland made me forget how gross the weather in NY was. I also had managed to forget which station to go to for my train. I literally erased the US from my mind while I was away. But, fear not, I was welcomed back in true US style. I was harassed at customs. Apparently it was suspicious that I packed so lightly for a 9-day trip. After all, this is the US; everything should be done in excess. So I was sent from the first agent to the next, who, upon seeing my scarfed head in my passport picture, proceeded to treat me like shite. He spoke to me like I did not k now English even after having just spoken to me. Awesome. Welcome back, I thought. But I stood there silently and obediently, not quite ready to be sent away for vacation in Guantanamo.

So now it has been almost a month since I left for Ireland. It took me over a week to accept the fact that I was not there. The remaining EuroCup matches helped me to stay connected, as Bashir and I texted and emailed, him watching at the Ferryman and me watching either the game or live commentary online.

Being in Ireland was a reminder of how much I love traveling and how badly I want to go to Iran again. I hope that with one year’s time I can be on my way to visiting Iran, and not just Tehran, Isfahan, and Mashad, but Qazvin especially and most of the country. I definitely want to go to the places I am from, where I can trace back. So, County Cork will be visited some day. Every time I have traveled I have evolved, gained some new knowledge of myself, or confirmed things I thought to be true, some I thought to be false, others I merely thought. There are times I feel I could remain completely to myself, as long as I am in motion. And then I think that I do love to share experiences with others. Chris McCandless learned that happiness is greatest when shared, and despite a love for isolation, I do often feel similarly.

I think that even one day away from the things that are familiar can help us to see things differently.