ireland holds a special place in my heart, as i know it does for many other people. it’s the land of my ancestors, a land that has seen better times but one that millions of people visit each year just because it’s ireland.
also, it’s a windswept island in the middle of the atlantic, so obviously i love it for that reason alone. the west coast – the ring of kerry, the dingle peninsula, the hidden coves in donegal – all give me chills. i can imagine the ancient ones standing there on the promontory watching the waves crash against the cliffs below, their cloaks swirling around them in the wind, and i can see the rays of sun just barely peeking through the clouds that hang low over the island. at the slieve league – cliffs in the northern part of the island that are taller than the cliffs of moher – i’m standing at the edge of the earth and the water is pure blue below me. at the giants causeway in northern ireland, i can see the mystery of the hexagonal stones as they literally disappear beneath the waves of the north atlantic. give me a west coast island any day.