Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Friend!
Do I have a story for you today! I was all set to write about something else, until I realized you’d be receiving this letter on St. Patrick’s Day—that changes things!
I’ve been “lucky” enough to visit Ireland three times. Each time my husband and I have gone, it was because of a work trip for him. I’m not a big traveler, but I’ll say yes to Ireland every time. I love it there! It’s beautiful, the people are so nice, and, bonus—they speak English, and with the best accents ever!
Our most recent trip to the Emerald Isle was this past fall. Kevin actually had business in Scotland, so it was a combo trip: Scotland and Ireland. And even more of a bonus, this time friends came with! Jerry and Linda. Jerry is a childhood friend of Kevin’s and was the best man at our wedding. The four of us all went to college together and were great friends. They still live in Wisconsin, and we’re in Florida, so our times together are few and far between.
One evening, we were in the picturesque town of Kenmare in County Kerry. It was our last night in this pretty little city; the next day, we were up and out and on our way to Galway. After a day of roaming the town and visiting the shops, we decided on dinner at a small wood-fired pizza place. Pizza in Ireland? Oh, believe me, we’d indulged in all the other “normal” Irish fare already! We each got a personal-sized pizza. They were delicious, but none of us could finish, so we got one large pizza box for all our leftovers, carried it back to our rental home, and stuck it in the fridge.
The next morning, we were up with the Irish chickens and out the door, suitcases and leftover pizza in hand. We knew we’d be traveling most of the day, but figured that if anyone got hungry, we’d have a snack ready.
With Kevin at the wheel and Jerry navigating, we made our way as far north as the town of Lahinch. Now there we had a traditional Irish meal. Between the four of us, two of us had fish and chips, and the other two had Irish stew. Filled and fueled up, we continued north to the Cliffs of Moher, where we saw nothing but fog and rain. We were in the midst of a brewing storm. It even had a name—Amy. Amy was actually an “extratropical cyclone,” as Mr. Google tells me now! Yikes!
Windshield wipers on and pizza still in the back of the car, onward and upward we went until, at last, we reached Galway. Jerry had been on the phone with the manager of the small hotel. He was giving Jerry directions on where to park. By this time, the rain was really coming down. We entered the city, found the hotel, and found the parking spot.
After we got our room keys, we took the tiny elevator upstairs. Jerry and Linda went to settle into their room, and we did the same. Can I pause a moment to say how BIG everything is in America? I don’t know if I ever thought about that until I was elsewhere. I just remember thinking our hotel room was tiny. We had a tiny bathroom with a tiny garbage can. Our bed was tiny, and there was no chair or desk, like we’re used to here. But we had what we needed and were just fine.
There Kevin stood with that darn pizza box from the night before. What were we thinking? With all of the stopping at restaurants, did we really think we’d eat that leftover pizza? Not knowing what else to do with it in our tiny room, Kevin folded the box in half and shoved it in the garbage can.
After our long day of travel, we decided visiting an Irish pub was in order. (When in Rome—er—Galway.) We wandered down the main street to a place Kevin and I had visited on a prior trip: Taaffes Bar. We managed to snag a table for four and sat down to relax with a round of various Irish brews. We were enjoying our conversation and the atmosphere so much that we didn’t even think about ordering any food. It was almost the end of our trip, and we were just enjoying each other’s company. Who needs food when you’ve got good friends and a bit of Guinness?! (Guinness is too much for me, but I did enjoy the Hophouse 13 lager.)
Soon enough, it was time to head back to the hotel. We walked the short distance up the street, and as we made our way up to our rooms, we realized something.
We. Were. Starving!
Why hadn’t we ordered any food at the pub? Our hotel was too small to sell any food. Linda and I had both packed a little bag of snacks for the way, but it was at the end of our trip. We’d eaten everything. What were we going to do? And then Jerry had a solution…
…the four of us were all crammed into Kevin’s and my room. Jerry was standing near that little trash can. He simply reached down, extracted the pizza box, unflattened it, and opened up the lid. Voila! Dinner!
That pizza had started in Kenmare, made its way up through Killarney, Limerick, Lahinch, the foggy Cliffs of Moher, and into a hotel trash can in Galway. And pizza never tasted so good! It was cold, yes, but that’s not a bad thing when it comes to pizza. I have to clarify here, Kevin did not touch the pizza. He thought we were disgusting. Jerry, Linda, and I thought otherwise. We feasted.
So, if you ever find yourself in beautiful Éire, by all means, eat the fish and chips, the Irish stew, the soda bread . . . . but if you find that your only choice is day-old, folded up, shoved-in-the-trash-can pizza, go ahead! Enjoy! We sure did!
Sometimes good things come from the least likely of places. Here’s to finding treasure where you wouldn’t expect it!
Sláinte, my friend!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
Dinner’s ready!!