Christine is totally Irish, but happens to live in the US. Her husband is totally Irish too, but somehow their two children are American. She spends her days wondering how this came about, baking muffins, and scribbling on the Internet at awfullychipper.com. She also sometimes gets paid to correct other people's grammar, which is a pretty sweet gig if you like that kind of thing. This week, she's the HerFamily.ie guest blogger.
It's deepest winter in Maryland and I'm dreaming of an Irish summer.
Planning your summer holidays in January is far from unheard of, I know. But most of you might be thinking you want to go somewhere a little more far-flung, a little sunnier and warmer than the other end of the M8.
Me, I'm thinking about leaving the environs of Washington DC, where the heat will bounce back from the crumbling asphalt and the humidity will make it feel like you're breathing from inside a wet sock, to embrace cooler Irish days by the green-blue sea and sand that the kids can dig their feet into without shouting, "Ahh, it burns!" I like wearing my jeans in July, I like going for a stroll without dissolving in a puddle of sweat, and I like it when it's never too hot for a cup of tea.
You always want what you don't have, right?
I finally understand the American obsession with history – everything in Ireland, in all of Europe, is just so much – so much, much – older than almost anything you can see on the other side of the Atlantic. (The ancient Native Americans, as nomadic people, didn't leave much behind in the way of permanent structures.) So I want to show my American children some real castles and some round towers, old stones and bones. I want to take them to Glendalough and Bunratty, maybe even take in the Cliffs of Despair (sorry, Moher) while we're at it.
But most of all I want to sit beside the soft (cold) Irish sea, because that's what I miss. I want to gaze at a flat empty horizon until America has left my head. Even if we only manage to walk down the pier in Dun Laoghaire and up the hill in Killiney, that aim will have been met.
Pic, summer in Sandycove 2011.
