The slow start I’ve had has not hindered me. It took my companion and I a good week-and-a-half to truly settle in, but we have already incorporated ourselves into a friend group consisting of, primarily, Germans with business majors, along with a few outliers on the side, us Americans included. There are twelve of us total, a group large enough to ensure there is always a plan brewing. Thanks to the ambitions of one of us, Hedda from Sweden, we were able to organize a two-hour bus ride to the Cliffs of Moher last weekend.
The bus was public, no bathrooms aboard, no local guide on the speaker announcing the arrival of a castle on the left or a battlefield on the right. We preferred it this way. It allowed more time to pick the brains of our friends and find pockets for laughter over an inside joke that’s made its presence known to every social outing.
At the Cliffs, our group split in two: those of us who wanted to walk the extent of the trail and those of us who preferred to lounge near the entrance. Me being an avid hiker, naturally I chose to walk the extent. We ventured far enough that the majority of the other visitors fizzled out, a charming perk that allowed us relief from what is, quite honestly, an indisputable tourist trap.
Finally alone, the appreciation for the place became insuppressible. One is dwarfed by the Cliffs. There’s no room for gawking, no room for noise. Each moment only allows its guests the opportunity to remember their own pitiful insignificance in the shadow of Mother Nature’s complete, green, frightening reign. I was inclined to fear Her as much as she invited me to take pleasure in the view I was so generously offered.
Sofia
