Sunday Soliloquy

January 19, 2008. Saturday. The day of my departure to Belfast, Northern Ireland only to leave three days later for Londonderry. I will be studying there for 4 months. I have dreamt of this my entire life. I don't possess an ounce of Irish blood, yet talk to any of my friends or reference my 10th grade paper on "The Wonderful World of Irish Cheese" or dare me to hum every Riverdance song while simultaneously performing my desperately awful version of a reel, and you will know. You will know that my passion for the Emerald Isle burns deep. And it burns strong.

I meticulously plan for my time there as I smile in the back of my mind. I know it will all go out the window upon my first breath of Irish air. I have a had a rough winter and am ready for it. Ready for an intervention into my drab routine also known as my life. My bags are packed. Goodbyes are said. And I am gone.

It is 5a.m. but through the plane windows I am catching flashes of green. Soon the flashes turn into pictures. The pictures into a beautiful film right before my eyes. I've had Riverdance playing for at least an hour now and can't stop smiling. We land. I get the bags that hold four months of clothes, shampoo, and books. Board the bus to Jury's Inn. Wander the deserted Sunday morning streets of Belfast. Make friends. Daydream constantly. Eat scones and drink tea to my hearts content. I've come home.



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