The Sexy Guy and I took a quick, weekend trip to Northern Ireland. The mini-holiday was meant to show him everything I was able to experience the year before.
SG LOVES castles and fine estates. The kids do not, so this couple-only weekend was his opportunity to happily roll around in Irish architecture without any "Can we go now?"s.
Day One: Arrival
We signed for our rental car and promptly left the airport towards the Giant's Causeway. Pretty much anywhere in Northern Ireland is a lovely drive, and surprisingly, it's not all emerald green landscape with Leprechauns dancing on the rolling hills- that must be the other part of Ireland.
Before walking down to see the Giant's Causeway, I convinced him that we should get a bite to eat in the cafe at the top of the trail. Knowing that between the option of paying to ride back up or hike like we were 15 years old again, he'd choose the straight uphill route, I opted to be well-fueled for the walk.
We had a rich, Irish stew with a thick, dense, dark bread that I would've proposed to had I been on my own.
I hated to leave it.
Sure enough, after traipsing all over the rocks and taking more photos than we'll ever need (and for some reason I am only including this dark blurry image),
SG scoffed at the 162 stair warning (along with the RED coded pathway meant for people who have lost touch with their mental health)...
...and thought it would be loads of fun to run up ahead of me to take pictures.
Photos of the wife hyperventilating. Kodak moment for him.
Umpteen years ago, just before we were married, I decided to take this same man on a hike into the Grand Canyon. I had done it several times and knew that even though I can walk FOREVER, I absolutely HATE going up hill. (Like,
if there's ever a mugger chasing me and we come to a hill, I'll just turn around and give him whatever he wants).
Anyway, that last mile coming out of the Grand Canyon is switchbacks--going straight up. I hate switchbacks almost as much as I hate going up hills. If have to go up, I'd rather do it mountain-goat style and just get it over with all in one go, not meander this way and that way for what feels like eternity.
So, I warned him that I would probably whinge the whole way up...and I did. I think I may have threatened to take down a couple of slushie-carrying tourists headed down the trail and just
might have told him I was done a few times,
but he married me anyway.
OBVIOUSLY , Sexy Guy has a very short memory to think
I would want to do this walk... and have my photo taken while doing it.
To get back to the car, we had to walk up more hills.
Ireland is sure a hilly little island.
However, I didn't whinge. I acted like traipsing up steep hills is something I do everyday. I tried not to breathe loudly, but being a mouth breather -with a deviated septum- makes gasping for air quietly no easy task. I'm not sure if coughing (to cover my heavy breathing) was convincing, but I think he bought it. We've been married a while, remind me again why I felt I had to convince him I wasn't older and fatter?
Kind of wishing we had brought some kids. He might've slowed down for them.
To make up for torturing an older, fatter lady, SG took me to an AMAZING dinner in Londonderry. We walked to the restaurant from our room (as you do when you're only a mile from the restaurant).
We went through a beautiful city park, taking pictures and admiring the daffodils (Northern Ireland got the Spring that had bypassed Norfolk). We had been told by our B&B hosts not to come back through the park after dark but to instead, stick to the road. So we did (it's a little disconcerting to walk at night through a city where all of the windows are barred, by the way) and wouldn't you know, lucky me, the entire non-scenic way was UPHILL
I was told the next day that the road we walked up is called Heart Attack Hill. I know why.
I love Derry.
I want to live there forever. Have you ever gone somewhere and thought, "I'm home"? That's what it felt like when we touched down in England nearly 7 years ago. Although I had dreamt my whole life of going to Ireland, I wasn't bothered by the fact that in 6 years of living here, we hadn't made it over. I figured it was all pretty much the same thing, right? Our calendars were just always so full, I wasn't going to dwell on it. It was SG who finally booked my flight and sent me off saying I would regret it if we made it back to the states having not seen the Emerald Isle. Poor man had no idea what he had done. Within the first few hours of landing in Londonderry, I knew I was where I was meant to be. I can't explain it. It's just a feeling like everything is finally in the right place.
Day One complete, we charted the route for the next day and collapsed exhausted into our bed...
