Shopping and Storytelling: The Irish Way!

 Yesterday, our day consisted of shopping and then some more shopping.  I was game because the sun was out and we were headed north into the interior of County Donegal, ann area in which I had yet seen.  Our ultimate goal was to arrive in the small city of Letterkenny, because it had two incredible sights to see: Penney’s, the bargain department store and “TK Maxx,” Ireland’s version of our TJ Maxx.  Needless to say, I took no photos.

But before arriving in Letterkenny, my sister and I, along with her dear friend, our driver, had to stop at a store that sold homemade pine furniture. Neither my sister nor her friend were exactly sure where the store was located, even though both had been there before. The main reason for their uncertainty is that when you are in the middle of nowhere, things all look alike.  My sister tried to use Waze, and after putting in “pine furniture store,” an address came up! Unfortunately, it was 642 miles away and while Donegal is a big county, that seemed a bit too far for a dresser—-pine or otherwise.  

We finally arrived at the store, which could only be described as a meat locker filled with furniture.  I looked around a bit at the various items, but it was so cold, I decided to stand outside, where it was freezing but the sunlight helped.  I was busy taking pictures of the pastoral surroundings and proceeded to step where I shouldn’t.  They don’t call this area “cow country” for nothing.

As I cleaned off my shoes, my sister and some very large man started hauling out furniture from the store. I looked at my sister’s friend, who clearly was doing the math as to how the furniture, a HUGE glass jug, her grandson’s car seat and the three of us were going to all fit in her mid-sized car.  I too was worried and thought, as the odd-man out, I might be taking a bus back to the house! My sister, a master of aero-dynamics was the lead in figuring out how to get the furniture and all of us in the car.  To her, it was never an issue. We all fit, although  my sister could have been decapitated by the jug should her friend have hit a large pothole en route to “historic” Letterkenny.

Fitting all the bags in the car from our Letterkenny shopping, was, even for my sister, a harrowing experience.  The good news was that, even then, no one had to take the bus home.

This morning, we set out on a hike with another friend of my sister’s on a nearby trail that my sister had never taken.  We began our journey, as all middle aged women do, by discussing our medical maladies.  Her knee, my knee, my sister’s hip-nothing was left out.  That lasted nearly half-way around the lake.

The walk itself was absolutely beautiful but the best part of the day was catching up with this lovely lady. Last year during our visit to Ireland, I wrote that the Emerald Isle was a country of writers and talkers.  I should have also included storytellers. While it is a gift to be able to spend time with my sister, our one-week visits are made all the richer thanks to the stories from the people we have gotten to know over the years. I don’t know if it’s the brogue or the cadence of how she and so many others tell a tale, but they have me the moment they begin a story, any story.  We heard about the retired priest who stops by and makes himself at home regardless of the time of day, or the woman who runs an art class who doesn’t put on her heat but serves tea throughout the class to keep her students warm, or the man who lives in a bush with a door when he’s not teaching English in Japan, or the local woman who runs a bakery at the side of the road, who trusts people to take her goods and pay what she asks….And that was just a few of today’s stories. What a gift we’ve been given this week to listen to the tales and do so much laughing.

Tomorrow—Spa day!