A Gentle Place To Land

A coach took us from the Dublin airport to the city center of Wexford. Colby and the boys fell asleep almost immediately. Alan used his backpack as his pillow and slept hunched over it. They missed the quaint architecture and the Gaelic words printed on every street sign. By the time we stumbled off the bus and pulled our American sized luggage out, the air had warmed to afternoon temperatures. We saw students in blazers filling the square as we walked past. My kids groaned when they realized that we’d be pulling our bags up a hill most of the way. I’d been exchanging messages with our AirBnb hostess, so she knew to expect us, but I was surprised and delighted when she pulled up in her SUV about halfway into our climb. She took Colby and Alan and half our luggage while Baxter and I waited with the second half. We joked about how Americans pack too much! Some stereotypes might be true.

The Pink House immediately felt like a refuge when we arrived. The beds were low to the floor, and for a moment, we felt like giants in a soft, safe world. Alan had a surfboard themed room with cheerful yellow artwork on the wall. Baxter’s room had a zebra theme and a nice windowsill where he could display all of his books. Colby and I ran our hands over the mural on our wall and realized that it was a vinyl cutout. Very unique. Everyone agreed that the journey had been exhausting so we settled in for a nap.

When we awoke, fish and chips felt like just thing. The boys were still asleep when I slipped out in the dusk to pick up our dinner from Sharky’s. I held my keys the way women are trained to in America, ready for an attack. But as I slipped past centuries old church stones and alleys to get to our dinner, I was surprised to find other women out walking alone, and unafraid despite it being dark out.

When I returned, we made short work of the gluten free fish and chips. I couldn’t finish my portion, because it was so large! Usually we get tiny portions of our gluten free stuff back in the States. So that was a pleasant surprise. The kids enjoyed Fruit Shoots. We’d never experienced them. (They’re juice bottles that squirt when you squeeze them). Alan filled his up with water after dinner and tried to squirt his brother, who was not amused.

Every electric switch in the house was labeled, which came in handy when we found the fridge. We switched in on, stashed our leftovers, and kept exploring. Little things brought me joy, like realizing the salt container that seemed decorative was actually functional. And that the window over the sink opened outward at a slant.

Alan had his own way of exploring. A couple of days later when he was playing in the sunny back garden, I looked up to see that he had disappeared. The palm trees held no sign of him. I was just about to get up from the sofa where I had been embroidering when he jumped out behind me and cried “Boo!” He had climbed in the bathroom window, around the side of the house, and snuck back into the living room. I rolled my eyes as he burst into laughter.

Inspired by our actual adventures.