I was recently asked to share my favourite travel journey with my co-workers. Despite it not being an easy path to wander, I have spent some time on my recent vacation to pointedly think about what that answer might be.  

By December 2010, at age 37, I had reached a point in my career where I had enough expendable income to travel beyond North America. My father’s family was Irish, from the Wicklow mountains area, so we decided to set off to Ireland (if you’ve read any of my blogs – you’ll know that “we” almost always means my Mama).  I was married too.  We booked flights to Dublin right after Christmas.  

At the end of January 2011, I found myself a widow, living in a house that was far too big for me, surrounded by memories that kept me from truly settling in my home.   

Linda T. was my travel agent at the time – I had insurance for the one now unusable ticket, and I had to decide if I was still going to go in April.  Linda gave us the space and time to figure it out and only pushed for an answer when she knew we would miss out on a refund.  Top notch.  

We decided to go.  

The Land of James Joyce 

When we arrived at our first of many hotels – this one in the Temple Bar area of Dublin, I gave the lady at the front desk my name, and out of habit proceeded to spell my last name for her – I can still hear her answer “Oh no dear, you don’t have to spell that here”.   

That small, rented Peugeot took us through every nook and cranny of that Island. We ate our way across the North.  My Mama drove; I navigated (!).  The car navigator system had not been updated by the car rental company so at times we looked to be driving across hilly fields straight at sheep.  

Londonderry 

In Londonderry we stayed at a Boarding House with other tourists - spent a day at the Giant’s Causeway and visited the Bushmills Factory to watch the staff come out crying when Kate arrived at Westminster Abbey in her Alexander McQueen; tottered over the Carrick-a-Rede ropes; walked the Derry Walls; stared at the recent IRA billboard sized street art that was all over the City; and the best Sticky Toffee Pudding  I’ve had - hands down anywhere. 

The Rings 

Our journey took us on to Galway, where I wondered if that lighthouse was the last view my ancestors had when they left Ireland by ship; the Belleek factory (where I purchased the most hideously awesome vase), felt the wind blow right through me on the Cliffs of Moher; drove the Mountains of Kilkenny National Park; stayed for two nights in Ballynahinch Castle; screamed in the car when we realized there was nothing between the road and the chasm on the Ring of Dingle’s Conor Pass; and wondered how on earth the locals could drive so fast on those narrow, serpentine roads.   

That trip didn’t just show me Ireland – it showed me that I could move forward.  And I've carried that lesson with me ever since.   

Ireland is one of the world’s top destinations for many reasons – the beauty of its people, fields, shores, and castles are just the beginning.   

What I learned from that first trip to Ireland – and from every adventure since, is that it’s not just about the journey. It’s the people you share it with.  And the food. 

Would I go back? Absolutely.  This time, with the Wicklow Passport.   

xo

PS – Anyone that tells you Guinness tastes the same outside of Ireland – don't believe them. It’s not even close.