Ireland ‘Trip Of A Lifetime’ Become Just That

“Ubh amh” and “ispini” she sputtered through a quirky grim. At her cue, I thumbed frantically through my Irish Phrase Book (a “was 3.99…now 1.50” purchase at the Bunratty Castle gift shop — a steal of a deal). My nearly impossible task was to identify the Gaelic butchered by a Midwestern American, who already had an strange accent.

It was hard to believe that this girl from halfway across the country was now lying in a double bed three feet from mine. Harder still to believe was the fact that it was 1 a.m., we were in Ireland (as she kept reminding me…”Debbie, we’re in Ireland”) and we were willing to jeopardize five hours of sleep to rehearse nonsensical Irish phrases. In fact, Kelly had decided to become fluent by dawn. In my opinion, “a raw egg” and “sausages” would get us through breakfast, maybe, and then we’d be hopeless amidst the Inishmore natives.

My unforgettable experience in Ireland, a country I’ve been bewitched with since I was old enough to appreciate the better-than-British accents and haunting Gaelic melodies, was free. I won an essay contest sponsored by “The Spokesman-Review,” “Parade” and “react” magazine and became one of about 100 students from the States every year sent to a foreign country absolutely free as part of the Young Columbus program. In past years, Spain, England and France have been the destinations.

But when the advertisement in November announced this year’s excursion would be to the land of cockles and mussels, I sharpened my pencil with more fervor than ever before.

Oddly, this “experience of a lifetime” (a phrase our escorts never tired of) didn’t prepare me for a mechanical declaration of the week’s itinerary the instant I stepped off the plane in Spokane. I knew that the inevitable “tell us all about it…” was waiting for me at home, with my friends and at school. But once I rattled off the most striking, dazzling pieces of the Ireland experience, what I had left was a conglomeration of faces, idiosyncracies and late-night conversation that taught me so much more about human nature than monastic towers or Celtic crosses, however spectacular, ever could.

I recall sitting on the plane next to this girl who was going to room with me for the entire trip. She was small (a good thing since we were sitting as close as a set of Siamese twins), and judging by the few words I had exchanged with her, cranky. The fact that she had just stepped off of a three-hour flight, whereas I had had a night of reprieve in New York, didn’t occur to me. I pulled out my brand new journal from my complimentary “Parade/react” flight bag and began writing.

Important to point out is the relationship a person gains with another after 10 days of constant companionship. Day one in my journal, I write: “my roommate Kelly, from Michigan …” By day two my comments are elevated to: “My roommate Kelly is really sweet and funny. She’s perfect.” Every bus ride, train ride, van ride, walking tour, hiking tour, breakfast, lunch, dinner and dance was spent right next to Kelly. We became best friends for the trip. That is why our parting at JFK International Airport was tear-stained and red-eyed. And why we still mail each other pictures and reminiscences once a week.

Some of the most talented people I’ve ever met were on the trip - among them a former Miss Teen USA, a nationally ranked pianist, an Irish step dancer in the ranks of Michael Flatley and Riverdance and an opera singer from Russia who made for a phenomenal Michelstown Caves Tour.

But I came to realize that talent doesn’t define a person. This is probably the most important lesson I learned. So many times I observed ordinary folks in everyday jobs, from the Bog Rail Tour guide to the owner of a small dairy farm who, complete with a broad smile, invited all 100 of us into his home.

I don’t know if this satisfaction with life is endemic to Ireland or if I could have found the same thrill for the seemingly mundane in any town. Regardless, after watching a young girl turn a field of dirt into a treasure chest (did you know that they’ve found bodies, Ancient Celtic villages, murder evidence and perfectly preserved bread and butter from the 18th Century buried beneath the highly acidic peat?), I’m inspired to try to bring this kind of enthusiasm to the ordinary tasks I face. Not only does jumping from stalagmite to stalagmite with the vigor of a 10-year-old make an ordinary tour guide’s job more enjoyable, it brings fascination and genuine interest to the audience. I believe now that if someone can highlight the good in a chore, life will be easier somehow.

If we let go and not simply accept but thrive, we will hold the ultimate key to success and happiness. (Feel free to read this paragraph again, it’ll be well worth the 26.52 seconds of your time).

I remember reading “The Treasure” by Uri Shulevitz with the theme “sometimes one must travel far to find what is near.” And I’ve heard the phrase repeated a number of times throughout my life. However, the Young Columbus experience placed me in the proverb for the first time.