In Defense of Wellies

It's been a bit slower the past few days in terms of exciting new experiences, so I'm going to write about a topic I've been chewing on for a while. The weather in Galway has been horrible recently: that's nothing new, it's to be expected, but really the past week or so has been preposterous. Pouring rain, hurricane-level winds, and HAIL. The hail is best part of the joke- I understand the importance of sun and rain and wind but hail, really? What purpose does that serve for anything? It makes nothing grow, it's not pretty or nice or warm it's just painful little ice bullets pelting down out of the sky onto unsuspecting noses...

If you can't tell, I have a bit of a vendetta. It also pounds down onto the roof of my building really loudly- I've had to put in headphones when skyping to drown it out! Hail being the exception, I think I could deal with Galway weather quite easy if I was outfitted daily in a wet suit or otherwise rain-proofed entirely.  I came to Ireland armed with my great-grandmother's raincoat and a pair of brand new, size-too-small rainboots (they fit in the store!), and was fully prepared to wear them daily. I've chronicled my hunt for a warmer hooded coat here before I think, which I did find, and although the rainboots can be blister inducing at times, I really do love them and am glad they made the trip across the Atlantic.

One of the first 'cultural norms' I learned upon reaching Galway is that none of the locals really wear rainboots- called wellies- probably because the weather is so unpredictable it doesn't make much of a difference in the end. They wear them out in the mud or in farm life, but that's pretty much it, and there seems to be a level of fashion stigma associated with doing so in a normal daily context...you're either weird, or instantly branded as an American. I've worn mine a couple times in the past week, and it never seemed to be the right time. When at the tree planting last weekend, they said to wear wellies if you had them because it was going to be a bit mucky- so I did, though most volunteers wore work boots. And then, a few days later in the mother of all downpours horizontal rain hail flood walk to immigration, I wore my converses because it just looked like a normal drizzly morning at first. Luckily, they've dried out by now, but I wore wellies the rest of the day for fear of a recurrence- and it was completely dry. It was the type of ridiculous day that featured hiding under a gas-station roof, wading in ankle-deep water through a highway and coming very close to being hypothermic, before the sun poked his penitent face out from behind a cloud just a bit too late.  So my rainboots have yet to let me down in my time of need, though I too often ignore them for the sake of more comfortable walking shoes, or ones that allow me to blend into the crowd a bit easier. They're wonderful creations, and underutilized in this city.

I didn't need them today though, because it was sunny! It still rained a bit and was windy as anything, but the sun was unmistakably shining. I took a walk around the other side of the river to get a proper look at the bay, which was beautiful, and made me glad in a way that I'm only (already) a month in. It took me long enough to find that section of town, and there's still loads more to be discovered- one of the big reasons I studied abroad, to be able to fully get to know one area in particular rather than country hopping for a week or so. Leaving for a weekend in Cork tomorrow, hopefully I'll come back from Blarney with the gift of gab and these will sound more focused. Love you all!