Summer in Ireland means two things. The first is that there will be more rain during this season than nearly any other (but I think I’ve written enough about the weather so we won’t focus on that right now); second is that there are a myriad of outdoor festivals to choose from all season long. Clearly the two don’t mix, but one thing I’ve learned about the Irish is that they don’t let a little rain stop them from enjoying their summer activities. If they did, they’d never leave their homes!

Since I’ve moved here, we’ve had the Drogheda Arts Festival, the Samba Festival and last weekend the Prawn Festival. The latter used to be an annual event in the neighboring fishing village of Clogherhead, but due to the recession has been on hold for the last several years. Well this year it came back with gusto and three days chock full of events and activities. One of the main attractions was breaking the world record for most people buried up to their necks on the beach, a record previously held by the French with 324 people. The locals all came out with shovels in hand and smashed the world record with an astonishing 524 people! See official photos here. Other event activities included a golf classic, parade and live music.

I went to the festival on Saturday, as I’d heard that there would be a few dozen booths at the “Traders’ Market.” I had visions of prawns cooked in every which way: fried, steamed, scampi, with pasta, in a sandwich – maybe even some crazy “festival food” like prawn ice cream or giant prawn sticks. It was terribly disappointing to show up and see only two booths selling prawns and a handful of young guys walking around with coolers of prawn and crab cocktail. The rest of the booths featured items like hippie candles, jewelry, ice cream, makeup and dishes. While the prawns I had were fine (just a simple prawn cocktail with some vegetables) and brown crab quite good, I’d hoped to have a lot more options. But after consulting with my Clogherhead friend, I was told that the festival is not so much a food faire but a celebration of the town with entertainment and demonstrations and a little bit of food. With his explanation my disappointment soon faded I took in the rest of the festival offerings.

The highlight of the festival for me was watching grown men fighting it out with bags of footballs while sitting on a very slippery log over water. Each man would slide out onto the log, situate himself about 3 feet away from his competitor and then start whacking the other with a football inside a netted bag until the other guy fell about 20 feet into the ocean below. This testosterone-fueled display of good, old-fashioned male prowess was completely and utterly entertaining for us to watch. I’m not sure what this says about me personally, but I quite enjoyed it! Nearby there was a diving demonstration for children and fishing boat tours. Down away from the harbor on the beach was a masters swim competition and a kiteboarding demo. I’d heard rumors of a greasy pole competition on the pier, but we didn’t see it ourselves. There was too much to take in and not enough time!

Even more impressive is Clogherhead itself. The village, set against miles of gorgeous beaches and rugged coastline is simply breathtaking. The immaculately green hills are dotted with cows and bulls that graze against a million-dollar view of the ocean. There are adorable thatched-roof cottages that are hundreds of years old, and stunning natural rock formations along the water that have taken probably thousands of years to develop. The most important aspect of the Prawn Festival is that it brings attention to this sleepy seaside village, and that’s reason enough to hail the efforts of all involved in this year’s festivities. I look forward to next year’s event!

Your little bed!

Welcome to the world, Little Shamrock (I don’t know your name yet, sorry!). I was just thinking today that we are both new to this place that is now your home. I guess the only major difference is that you’ve been here for about an hour, and I’ve been here a month today. So, let me just say from experience that you are a very lucky little baby to be born Irish in Ireland, because – as I have witnessed myself – you lot are quite special.

I wonder what kind of little Irish boy you will grow into; right now you are just a newborn and it’s overwhelming to think of all the different ways you’ll grow and change over the years. Will your hair be blonde, like your mother’s? Or dark brown like your daddy’s? Maybe you’ll develop a love of cars, just like your daddy (though I’m not sure how much more car stuff your mom can handle!), or perhaps you’ll cultivate a taste for sweets like your mammy. You’ll probably earn a nickname or two over the next several years…your mom used to call everyone “Chicken” as a term of endearment, and I’m willing to bet she’ll be calling you all sorts of cute names. She’s really sweet and motherly like that.

Your mammy and daddy, looking very Ralph Lauren

There are a few things that will be certain in your life: Your granny Nancy’s spaghetti Bolognese on Wednesdays, which will no doubt become one of your favorite meals; your parents’ love for you – something that will only continue to grow as you do; the fun times you’ll have with your warm-hearted yet naughty aunties Aoife, Sorcha and Aideen – you will grow up to be a tough little boy with those girls around, trust me, but you’ll find balance with your gentle and kind aunties Aine and Roisin; the family bond you’ll develop with your cousins Ayanna and Aaron back in America; your (very funny) uncle Earnan and (very stubborn) grandad Niall’s quest to make you a Man United fan, though your daddy will make sure you stick with Liverpool; an appreciation for hip-hop, courtesy of your uncle Tony; fun times in Belgium with your uncle Mark and auntie Anne. Oh and I almost forgot about your other uncle, Butsey, who despite his nickname looks very much like Matt Damon. Quite a big family you’ve gotten yourself into and I haven’t even mentioned any of your daddy’s four siblings and mother and all your new cousins, great aunts, uncles, etc., etc. Are you scared yet? I know it seems like a lot of people but trust me, they are all really cool.

Your mammy, just a few weeks before you were born

Being Irish, as I have come to learn, makes you quite unique. If you go abroad when you’re a bit older, the girls will swoon for your accent. You’re going to grow up with Irish pride and be unflappably optimistic even in the face of adversity – it’s just an Irish thing, I believe. You’ll probably sing a lot for no reason, and you’ll probably never be on time but the good thing about being in Ireland is that no one will care if you’re late (because they, too, will be late). Potatoes will be a big part of your diet, as will beer (when you’re a bit older, of course). So far, so good, right?

It’s so wild to think that, just yesterday, I visited your mom in the hospital and she was as cool as a cucumber. You should know that about your mom: she’s always graceful under pressure. And last night, I watched your daddy put your crib together. He was quiet and thoughtful in his work, and though he didn’t show it, I’m sure he had about a million things on his mind – all about you. You’ve really lucked out on parental front, you know. With your mother’s kind heart and your father’s sense of style, you’ve got the whole package.  

Daddy trying to figure out your crib

Anyway, I can’t wait to see you grow up and hear your cute Irish accent develop and witness your little life flourish into a big one. And oh, what a BIG life you will have!

Time is just blowing by like a Kenyan in a foot race and with every day that passes I go into a little more shock about my big move. Most people don’t do this kind of thing unless they are a) in a college exchange program; b) sponsored by a company that is offering a fantastic job; or c) madly in love with a foreigner and getting married.

Not me.

I’m going to Ireland because I want to put myself in a new environment, somewhere fascinating and unfamiliar, a place that I’ll grow into. Mind you, I’m doing it legally (I have an incredible paper trail to prove it) but without the reassurance of a sponsorship or husband or anything of the sort. While I do have a wonderful group of Irish friends who I will be depending on quite heavily for the first few weeks, I am determined to carve out a new life for myself there, on my own.

Right now, amidst all the packing and organizing and planning, I’m having fun thinking about what that new existence is going to be like. This morning as I enjoyed my usual breakfast of coffee and a runny egg with a slice of cheese sandwiched inside a whole wheat English muffin, I thought about whether I will continue to eat the same egg sandwich once I’m in Ireland. Maybe I’ll switch to tea, with a splash of milk, and fix myself a slice of crumbly, brown bread with a smear of butter and jam on those cold, Irish mornings. Perhaps on the weekends I’ll go down to the local pub for a proper fry-up of eggs, rashers, sausages, fried bread, beans and black and white puddings. It’s fun to think about.

I imagine my first time grocery shopping at the local Tesco, both overwhelmed and enchanted by all the new products on the shelves. Smoked eel, chocolate digestive biscuits, Barry’s Tea, Marrowfat Peas, Irish vintage cheddar…will these items become staples in my cart? I’ll be living close to Clogherhead, a village known for its fishing. I wonder if I can go straight to the docks and purchase some lobster from the fishermen? I’ve heard the Irish waters are ripe with sea urchin, is this true? All things I will soon discover.

It won’t be all fun and frolic. After I settle into my new apartment and the hype of my arrival wears off, the fact that I am thousands of miles from home will sink in. My friend Steve can’t meet me for spontaneous happy hours at our favorite hangout, and I won’t be able to meet my friend Tawny at Griffith Park for hiking. Our family dinners; those hours-long, wine drenched evenings full of spectacular, homemade food and easy conversation will be limited to the holidays, at least for a while.

But there will be many new distractions, some of which will fade away and others that will become a part of me. And in due time, those things and people and experiences will morph into something more; something that resembles a new life.