part 8: Ireland again
part 8: Ireland again
back to our favorite bed and breakfast
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As much as we’re sorry to leave Venice, we’re eager to see Geraldine and Eamonn in Dublin, to spend time with these new-and-dear friends-for-life.
I’m quietly ready, too, for Ireland to work some magic on my soul.
Something awakened for me in our very first, brief acquaintance with Ireland three weeks ago.
There’s something about it being time for my own “roots” experience, knowing how much Christine and her Italian-roots experience has shaped our lives.
There’s something about the time spent, through the summer, getting to know the charms of the Irish, during Eamonn and Ger’s San Francisco visit and in talking with the Ducati Dublin lads, even if from a distance.
There’s something too about discovering, this summer, a resonant connection with one James Joyce, writer.
It startles me a bit to have Christine remind me that, when we first met, forty years ago, she would greet me with “Hello, Irish!”
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Andiamo.
A final evening espresso and cappuccino at Marco Polo airport . . .
. . . and the next morning, we’re back at the breakfast table at our favorite Irish B&B (so to speak).
Which, in a daytime exterior, looks like this:
No, wait; wrong B&B!
Looks like this:
The sunshine and blue skies: we brought them along. They’re not necessarily included with the room reservation.
Monday, September 21, 2009