It ends here...

I am just off the plane from Glasgow.  What that means for me is that my Ireland trip is essentially finished -  nothing left but the getting home.  Six flights in two days to get from Ireland to Seattle.  I am sad.  I am tired.  Did I mention sad?  I am trying to figure out how to live without having the anticipation of this trip in my life.  I have lived the excitement for so long.  I will figure it out, I reckon,  but first there is one bit of unfinished business I must, must tend to before leaving Ireland's shores. 

It was important to get one more "Shannon" picture in!  This was the last I saw of the Shannon Airport.

I had very few expectation or goals for this trip.  I made some vague plans but didn't want to tie myself too closely to a schedule.  I wanted to experience my favorite phenomenon - serendipity.  And I did - in spades.  I let the current of Ireland take me where she would and it was a great trip.  But the one thing I felt utterly compelled to accomplish, beyond anything else, I had failed to see through.  See, I had this letter that I wanted to leave with the Shannon River.  I had it written and She wanted it but the opportunities to commune with Her failed me.  I was at the Shannon Airport now with no car and knowing not a soul.  I had a few hours before dark and my flight left early in the morning.  It was now or never.  If I couldn't figure it out now then I would leave Ireland with one regret - and I couldn't let that happen.  I utterly rejected that notion.  So I struck out on foot, letter in hand at dusk.  The Shannon Airport is beside the Shannon River but that didn't mean much as I was beside the Shannon for the majority of my trip.  It was the getting to Her....that was the mission I had failed.  I walked and walked and it looked as though I was going to have to climb some fencing and hike through 400 yards of marsh.  But that was fine I really was willing to take whatever risks necessary to make this happen for myself.  As I continued, I saw the fencing ended at some warehouses, creepy and dark.  At the end of this string of warehouses, though, I saw the Shannon.  It was a place I could walk right up to the banks, I could give her my letter.  I saw my goal, it was here that I could end my quest.  However, to get to the banks I had to traverse these dark buildings where I kept hearing men's voices floating from the walls.  I was frightened but determined (and "slightly" stupid).  I took a deep breath, said a prayer and forged on.  The men in the warehouses stopped talking as I strode past - it got really quiet.  But I finally arrived at the Shannon.  It wasn't as pretty as some spots I had seen - nor did I stay long.  I wet my hands, said hello and put my letter under a rock in the water.  She got it and told me She would read it and consider all my thoughts and requests <grin>.  I then bid a hasty faretheewell and walked the warehouse gauntlet - smiling the entire way.  I felt like it was now ok to leave Ireland.  And that's what I did - albeit reluctantly.

There is a large-ish rock in the water on the right.  It is there that I left my letter.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read about my Ireland journey through all these months.  It was a grand trip and could not have happened without the help of so many people.  Apparently, it takes a village to send Shannon on a trip.  Thank you to Yutaka, Maya, Sean, Patsy and Vern, Hazel, Mrs. Scott, all my new friends that I met in Little Okinawa, Ireland, Ryan and Leanne.  Thanks to so many for well wishes, support and advice.  My heart bursts with gratitude for my Dad without whom this joyous experience would not have taken place for me.  I loved the gesture but mostly the time we spent together.  Unforgettable.

Finally, I have given a lot of thought as to why certain places such as Ireland and Scotland enchant me more than others.  I think it has to do with vibrations of history that it seems I can almost feel in every cell of my body.  And my cells rejoice somehow in the communion of it all - a reunion of sorts.  I found this quote years ago that seems to sum it up:

"In great deed, something abides.  On great fields, something stays.  Forms change and pass, bodies disappear but spirits linger to consecrate ground for the vision-place of the soul.  And reverent men and women from afar and generations that know us not and that we know not of, shall come here to ponder and to dream and the power of the vision shall pass into their souls."
Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain  1824-1914  (I love this quote and respect this man even though he fought on the wrong side of the War of Northern Aggression!  Too bad.  He should have been Southern <grin>)

Thanks for reading!

Castle Rock and Beyond!

If you will recall, in my last post, I had made it about 3 feet along the Royal Mile.  I didn't really need to move, I would have been quite content walking up and down all the closes for the rest of the day but the imposing Edinburgh Castle was looming heavily over me above, calling, refusing to be ignored.  So, being the easy-going, eager-to-please girl that I am I went!

The scale of the castle is immense.  This picture just doesn't do it justice!

 I found the castle so joyous because it is such a mish-mash of times (oldest building dates from 1130!)  and architectural styles and wears them all proudly on its sleeve.  And, it somehow all works.  It doesn't look like a house that has been added to so much over the years that it resembles a jigsaw puzzle with the wrong pieces force-fit into the holes.  No, no.  It is so beautiful and so imposing that you felt it all the way to your heart - a heavy, imposing beat that fell into sync with the castle's beat.  Nice!

Here are some of the highlights!

I was most excited to see Margaret's Chapel as it is the oldest building in all of the Castle.  It was built by David I in 1130 in honor is his mother, Margaret.  It is small and spartan from the outside but the inside is whitewashed with lovely stained glass windows. I just wanted all the people to leave so Margaret, Hazel and I could hang but that didn't happen so I appreciated and moved on.



Sorry, the angle on this is a little funky but the hill is quite steep...and I'm not a photographer <grin>

Another Highlight: 

We visited Mons Meg which is a cannon situated atop the Rock.  She was made in the town of Mons, Belgium in 1449.  Hazel and I were standing there enjoying a chat with the Scottish docent about the old cannon when I noticed a large crowd was beginning to gather.  He informed us it was the daily one o'clock cannon that is fired off.  It seemed an odd time to set your clocks for and asked why they chose 1pm to fire.  He was very cute and said because the Scots are too cheap to afford more than one shot per day.  The shot is now fired from the military barracks below where Meg sits and a soldier in full military uniform ritualistically comes out to fire a more modern gun.  The crowd had grown quite deep and I figured there was no way to watch the firing but I guess the sweet man saw my disappointment and started pushing people aside saying, "Let the wee girl through!  Let the wee girl through!  She canna see!"  And do you know he got me all the way to the front?  I was glad not to have missed it, it was amazing to see but the best part was being called "a wee girl" -  twice!  It's all in the details, my friend...



View of Edinburgh from Mons Meg.



A third highlight:

We went to visit the Honors of Scotland which is basically their crown jewels.  I only vaguely remember seeing the crown, the scepter, etc. because as soon as I saw the Stone of Scone (pronounced skoon) all else disappeared for me.  AND, we again accosted a lovely, knowledgeable, quite handsome docent and probably talked to him for at least 20 minutes about the stone.  The Stone of Destiny as it is also called was the stone that the Kings of Scotland have been enthroned upon since Biblical times.  Robert the Bruce had put his bum on that stone!!  And I was in its presence!  Sadly, in later warring years the English took it down to England where it stayed for hundreds of years in Westminster Abbey under their coronation chair.  In this way all the Kings of England who have been crowned sat on that stone symbolizing their reign over Scotland.  But on Christmas Day, 1950 four college students from Glasgow University stole the stone from Westminster Abbey and hauled it 500 miles back up to Scotland.  The English retrieved the Stone of Destiny a few weeks later but they had to be careful with the situation or they would have had a country of rioting Scots on their hands.  In 1996, however, England rightfully returned the stone to Scotland where it now resides in Edinburgh.  I highly recommend watching the 2008 movie, "The Stone of Destiny" - it is brilliantly done and available on Netflix instant play!

Hazel and I atop the Castle

  



Gorgeous!! 



I loved the Trinity knot at the bottom!

After exploring the castle (just on the surface, I would love to go back!) we made our way down the Royal Mile to visit Holyrood Palace - where royalty stays when visiting.  Alas, the queen has lost my traveling itinerary and wasn't in...

Along the way we saw...



Look at how the woman's jacket  matches the door!  Serendipity!





Why so many red doors on churches?   The is what the Anglican Church's website told me:  "It's because red doors traditionally mean "sanctuary" -- the ground beyond the doors is holy, and anyone who goes through them is safe from physical (and spiritual) harm. In ancient times, no one could pursue an enemy past red doors into a church, and certainly no one could be harmed or captured inside of a church. Today, the red reminds us of the blood of Christ and that we are always safe in God's care!"

A lovely old cemetery in Edinburgh.  This is where Greyfriar's Bobby is buried.  He was the Sky Terrier who guarded is master, John Gray's, grave for fourteen years after his death. 

Detail from a headstone

This is a picture of the painting in the window of the Elephant House Cafe where JK Rowling wrote Harry Potter.  It didn't occur to me at the time to take a picture of the actual cafe.

The Castle at night from Princes Street

We walked, we chatted, we had many "cuppa's and a wee blether".  I was so grateful to Hazel and her Mother for hosting me.  But as the sun descended, so did my mood.  I grew more and more despondent.  Despondent is really too nice a word for what I was feeling.  I wanted to curl in the fetal position and keen mighty wails of grief.  (But it an effort to be a good guest I didn't do that. )  I was sad because my visit with Hazel had been too short, my time is Scotland was ending - I felt I had just arrived ( and I kinda had!)  But also, on top of that this marked the end of my entire trip that I had anticipated, dreamed of, groomed to my liking and lived for.  It had been 8 days.  I was desperate for more, I wasn't in the least bit done.  I was greedy and wanted to throw a fit.  I didn't but it was a close thing.  In the end all I could do was be a grown-up 40 year old and catch a plane back to Ireland.  But I had one more mission to accomplish, one more date with the Shannon River before my flight back to the US. 

Thanks for reading!!!