The Gallivanting Grasshopper: Coffee with Strangers -- Moyleabbey Organic Farm

I am once again writing this post from the frigid, drafty trailer that's been my home for the last three weeks. I am growing accustomed to the cold, though. Yesterday, I wore a mere three shirts instead of my usual four, and there was even a part of the day wherein I took off my woolen hat. My ears rejoiced at the sensation of the slightest breeze, having spent so long under wraps. Their rejoicing was short-lived however, as a hurricane has decided to blow through Ireland this week. I was rocked to sleep in the trailer last night, as the wind continued to buffet it ferociously after the sun went down.

This last week was terribly uneventful. I hesitate to even post a blog today, given my dearth of things to write about.

Monday night was a new experience for me, and definitely the highlight of my week. Pauline, Thomas, and I helped with dinner, and then Liam drove us to the nearby town of Athy, for their Monday night "session". He treated Pauline and Thomas to some guinness, and bought me some Bulmers (an Irish cider). Then we sat and waited in the fairly deserted bar for the "session" to commence. There was some horse-racing being shown on the television, so I disinterestedly kept an eye on that as I quaffed my cider. A middle-aged, dolled up woman approached Liam and started up a friendly conversation. I thought, "Oh good, someone he knows is here."

Then the outgoing brunette asked for his name, and introduced herself as "Bernie."

And I thought, "'Oh yes, I'm in Ireland. A country where everyone approaches everyone as a first-rate friend until they prove they're not."

The music started about an hour later. It was a quiet night, I'm told, but I still enjoyed myself immensely. This particular Monday night session was populated by about twenty retired Irish folk, who were just getting together to sing some ballads, tell some stories, read some poetry, and enjoy some Irish brew. We all sat around one big table and took our turns singing. The French didn't sing, but I belted out Somewhere Over the Rainbow, The Sound of Music, and Couple of Swells. My repertoire might be shameful, but the Irish seemed to think it was good craic.

Then the work week started again... and a windy, rainy, frigid week it was.

I pruned the gooseberries. Gooseberries have unprecedentedly menacing thorns. I shall never plant them in my own garden, unless it is as a hedge to keep away the deer and the overzealous evangelicals.

I harvested carrots, onions, beets, and plums.

I planted some perennial lettuce.

I made the family a dinner of lemon fish, lemon potatoes, and lemon bars. They seemed to enjoy the hiatus from vegetable soup, but I might have gone overboard on the citrus.

Pauline and Thomas left on Friday morning. That means I had the trailer to myself all weekend, but it also means I didn't even have their murmuring to keep me company. Things got very lonely during these last few days, especially since the weather has worsened, and I nearly get knocked over by the bellowing wind just opening the door. I've done a lot of reading. Tom Robbins, Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde, and Toby Hemenway keep me company during these isolated weekends.

The wind let up for a couple of hours yesterday in the late afternoon. I decided to go for a walk and take some pictures, as I haven't really had the time or desire to wander about the icy countryside. Hedges line the narrow roads very thickly in Ireland, but whenever I was able to peep through a hole in the green wall, I took a picture of the idyllic cow/sheep scene on the other side. On my way back to Moyleabbey, I passed a middle-aged man taking care of a chestnut pony. I smiled, but kept walking. The man immediately said hello and asked how I was. We had the typical, pleasant conversation that one has when one meets a friendly stranger on the side of the road. I was about to tell this stranger how nice it was to meet him and get my shivering ass back to my ice-box, when the roadside pony man asked me if I'd like a cup of coffee.

Given that I had just run out of coffee that morning and that always saying yes to coffee with strangers is a rule for myself on this trip, I happily consented to this stranger's offer.

John (as he later introduced himself) poured me a cup of coffee, poured himself some tea, sat down with a packet of cigarettes, lit one up, and began to talk.

And talk.

And smoke (he smoked eight in two hours, I believe).

And minus the haze of cigarette smoke, I loved it. He was a natural born Irish storyteller of top degree, and he he had inumerable tales to tell about his travel experiences (all punctuated by outbursts of genuine laughter and an impressive smoker's cough). He had a black but light-hearted sense of humor that consistently took me by surprise, and his outlook on life made me want to stay and hear more even though my bladder and the cigarette smoke were both doing an admirable job persuading me to leave John in his well kempt bachelor den and go get some fresh air and a toilet.

I may drink coffee with perfect strangers, but I hesitate to ask for use of their facilities.

John drove me back to Moyleabbey, gave me a chocolate bar, and told me I could interview him next week. After stripping off my layers of cigarette smoke saturated clothing and leaving them outside to air out, I curled up with some Robbins and went to bed.

I also interviewed Kai this weekend. It was my first interview with a child. The simplicity, honesty, and depth of his answers caught me off guard more than I thought they would.

One of my favorite was in response to:

Me: What does the word "family" mean to you?

Kai: The people at home.

Speaking of family, I sure do miss all of you. I miss the people at home right now more than I had imagined possible.

Another couple moved into the trailer today. An hour or so ago, actually. Amy is Irish and David is American. They recruit english teachers for a language program in Korea. They're going to be excellent roommates, but living with a couple does seem to exacerbate my lonliness. They cook together and eat together and laugh together and cuddle together. Goodness. They're even crosswording together. I certainly don't resent their presence or obvious attachment -- I'm just desperate for a travel buddy of my own.

I think the next farm will be better. I'll be living in the house with the owner and learning about bees. I hope. With WWOOFing, you never can tell. That's something I had to learn quickly.

I took almost all of my spending money and bought a laptop. After three months of iPhone frustration, I decided that I really do need one in order to continue pursuing my passion as a playwright, my interview project, and my soon to be career as a yoga teacher. This means I can post pictures in my blog, start a YouTube channel to market myself as a yoga teacher, and work on editing my interview project. It also means that I'll be able to submit my plays to various competitions and maybe make some money off of my writing.

It also means that I'll be heading back to the US a bit earlier than I'd planned. But I am more than okay with that.