A few months before I flew to Ireland, I made a phone call to a dear friend of mine, Megan. The call’s purpose was to, I admit, brag of my upcoming study abroad trip. In seconds, however, I discovered that she, too, by complete coincidence, was to attend university in Dublin at the same time that I was to attend in Galway.
I do love it when the Universe plays tricks on us unsuspecting commoners. Surprises like that never cease to add a little flavor to the pan.
Megan came last weekend, the two of us reading books side-by-side in a student apartment bed meant for one when we weren’t out-on-the-town contributing to the general chaos of the city. The crowning achievement of our reunion, though, was neither finishing fantasy novels nor dancing in pubs. We gave that title to the 10-mile bike ride we took in Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands.
Ferry ride: peaceful. Bike ride: glorious. We rented cruisers and headed down the length of the island, passing horse-drawn carriages and stopping only to pet the ponies and look at the Bronze-Age settlements.
We shared a sandwich from the Jungle Cafe (which we had, the day before, purchased from the popular joint in Galway) over the edge of the cliffs at Dún Aonghasa. I bought a wool hat from an old lady and a postcard to use as a bookmark (as opposed to an old grocery receipt). And Megan, with her keen sense of direction, navigated us over old, stone walls and sunken grass to the “wormhole,” a swimming-pool-like rock formation at the base of the lower cliffs, east of the previously mentioned fortress.
Exhausted upon our return, we stopped for Korean food. It was well deserved, I assure you. 1500 calories burned, according to Megan’s apple watch.
Sofia
