P.S. I Love Glendalough

I've been trying to figure out why writing about exciting weekends is so overwhelming, and the best explanation I've come up with for this ridiculous block is that there's just too much to talk about: so I don't want to just list off interesting things in a way that makes them boring and leaves out the narrative part, but I also can't bear to cut out anything that went into making it a whole and complete experience. So instead, I just give you a lengthy introductory paragraph apologizing for what will inevitably be a pretty good post if I can push it out of my fingers. But anyway. I apologize for the delay. ♥

This past weekend I embarked on the sort of last-minute hectic adventure I'd so hoped for when I set out on this grand Irish journey, and it was everything it should have been: there were mountains and faeries, zombies, goats, snowy ruins and lots of impromptu singing. Also sheep- it's not an Irish adventure without sheep.

Sticking to my goal of making the most out of every weekend here (and they're going fast), I headed out with two friends to Wicklow Mountain National Park, of P.S. I Love You fame, an enormous outdoor nature preserve fairly far away from anything else- including a grocery store. We 'roughed it' like true backpackers for my first mini-taste of what that would really entail: I brought too many clothes, too much fruit, and no gloves. We cooked pasta dinner at our absolutely lovely hostel (the best I've been at yet!) and were subsequently completely upstaged by the four-course meal prepared by the French travelers at the next table. Another way in which we blatantly stood out was when we were roughly a quarter of the way up the mountain (not counting the lengthy trek back), and all of the local intense hikers were practically fleeing the trail as it began to snow, all of them skeptically wishing us luck as we determinedly marched along our way like the elephants from Jungle Book on a trail that began with a sign reading "Beware of Bear".

On the mountain, we ran into, thankfully no bears, but a herd of wild deer! I also almost sat on some sort of dead animal while attempting to take shelter in a cave, and I tripped more than twice, mostly over my own feet. My legs and overall body have yet to recover from the unprecedented physical exertion- we surpassed 18 miles, and there were definitely moments where I wanted nothing more than a rest. We took plenty, but I was also challenged to keep climbing: much like the overall scheme of this semester so far, I'd say.

I'd said this about my life plenty of times before, and often not always for positive reasons, but a lot of moments this weekend really felt like something out of a movie. We wandered through ruins of an ancient mining town in a mini-blizzard, underestimated the time it took us to trek a path and ended up casually strolling through a crumbling graveyard in the undead of night...except not casually at all, it was really terrifying. The paths flecked with snow, winding trails at dusk and trickling sometimes-frozen waterfalls made me really feel like this was the place where real Irish faeries live. For lunch on the second day there, we fairly literally stumbled upon the perfect shelter built out of branches and logs by some better-prepared adventurers  and delightedly profited from their skills. And as much as I continually compared everything to some of my favorite films (See those cliffs? Lord of the Rings. Those trees? Totally Narnia. Oh that boulder? Princess Bride, all the way, come on out, Fezzik!), it was actually pretty logical because Wicklow is a major site of movie locations, and right next door to the park we could see road signs for Hollywood- a tiny town that's lent its name to the big one in California we all know so well.

When all was said and done, we never were eaten by zombies, climbed a few fences and non-trails in reckless shortcut discovery, visited a lot of sites named after St. Kevin- it was basically his old stomping grounds there, almost accidentally stole a stranger's dog, and were overall just immersed in the extreme natural beauty of the park. The pictures cannot possibly do it justice, but I've found that my posts look better with them and I'd like to at least try to show you what I mean about the view: because I can't adequately describe it in words, either. (But if I'm trying, I might as well keep going.) Here's us at the place were the sky crashed into the earth. The lake looked like God had washed out his paintbrush in it after putting a finishing touch on the snow-capped  mountains, and basically- like I captioned one of my Facebook photos and mentioned then in real life too, this view and experience is the reason I came to Ireland. It wasn't for the Guinness, though that can be nice, or for the trad music, though that's probably my favorite bonus, or even for the academics like I've always been saying. It for was this view, physically, as well as the mental view of How Big the world can be...and I've found it. Thanks, Glendalough.