A Monday Memory....

Best put on the kettle, this will be a long read....

The college I attended offered a three week London Theatre Study Tour, during our January Session, my senior year.  I think my mother was more excited than I was when I first read about it. Both she and my father didn't hesitate in urging me to go.

They also felt that since I would already be in England, and there would be an additional five days before I needed to return to campus, that I should plan a side trip. I was sure this would be my first and only trip abroad, so I agreed.

But where to go?

Ireland

My mother's side of the family held our Irish roots, on her mother's side, and I had a strong interest in seeing the countryside.  So it was decided.

My father went to a travel agency in Manhattan to make separate arrangements for me, since I would be making that part of the journey by myself and without the support of a professor or other students. 

He was assured by the agent he spoke to that I could do all of that myself in London.

During my whirlwind three weeks in London, I visited the travel agency recommended in New York, only to be told, those arrangements could easily be made in Dublin.

You see where this is going....

When I arrived in Dublin, they hadn't a clue what I was on about.

An itinerary was hastily thrown together for me.  I was given a train schedule, along with a short list of a few cities I would be visiting and the names of some hotels.  My first train journey would depart quite early in morning, they said. They assured me, that all would be well, they could personally vouch for the accommodations and modes of travel.  

Ah, the innocence of youth!

I believed every word they told me.

After spending a somewhat sleepless night in Dublin, I headed out for the train station.

My guardian angel must have been with me!

Taking a cab to the train station, I was very fortunate that the nice young driver waited to see I was safely settled on the train I had told him I was supposed to be taking.

Because it wasn't there.

The first train departing for my scheduled first stop did not, in fact, l

eave until six p.m. that evening.

Panic flashed across my face, and before I knew it, the cab driver had me back in the cab and on my way to the bus station.  There, I was able to purchase a ticket to Wexford,

which was departing within minutes, thankfully.

There were a few harrowing incidents over the next couple of days, best left for another post.

And yes, it is "a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go," as another bus I secured a ticket on bounced along the winding roads on my way to Limerick.

By which time, I had had enough of traveling on my own and finding "the timetable" given to me was basically useless.  So when I arrived in Limerick, I decided to stay for two nights, instead of one.

Which is where I found The Good Shepherd Convent and the precious Sisters who live there.

I was soon to discover that the good Sisters made lace, beautiful lace. I purchased a tiny handkerchief, pictured below.

One of the dear little Sisters explained that I was to carry this with my bouquet on the day I married, and then shape it into a bonnet for the many children she was sure I was going to have.

What a lovely idea, thought I.

(I must confess, I did neither.)

Safely tucked away in a dresser drawer, it is a sweet reminder of a lovely part of Ireland, during a time in my life when I stepped out of my comfort zone 

and took a chance that I could in fact travel on my own in a foreign country.

Thank goodness I did.  That trip gave me the courage to say "yes" to the numerous adventures that have followed since.