The Grass Is Always Greener

Except in Galway.

It probably does not help that California, which I have called home for more than 38 years, is experiencing another bone-dry winter, with no rain in the past few weeks and none on the horizon. While the reservoirs are mostly full, from last winter’s relative deluge, which followed six years of below average rainfall, it appears that our current (feast or famine) weather pattern is the new normal. Based on this reality, influenced I am sure to some extent by climate change, water conservation is top of mind, and a long term strategy, at state and local levels, is very much in order.

But, back to greener fields.None are more so than in Galway, on the west coast of Ireland, where, on average, it rains 225 days a year. Not surprisingly, my visit to Galway last July saw rain three out of my four days there. A heavy rain defined the first day, while downpours complicated an already tricky drive to the Connemara region, to Kylemore Abbey and the charming town of Clifden, on the return to Galway. Like many, I am sure, I underestimated the challenges of driving on the left (wrong) side of the road, the unending suggestions and exhortations from my passengers, the narrowness and uneven quality of the roads, the countless roundabouts, the rapidly changing weather conditions, and, my favorite, parking. Put otherwise, it soon made sense why insurance for the rental was twice the rental fee. That said, I can recall few moments more satisfying than returning our Mercedes GLA250 to the rental car agency at Shannon Airport without a scratch.

It rained almost without cessation on the third day, culminating with a torrential downpour during the match between Galway United FC and Drogheda United FC. Of course, this did not temper the enthusiasm of the local fans (or our enjoyment either), as Galway prevailed 3-1.

The fourth day, a Saturday, was pure sunshine, perfect for a coach tour (my vacation from driving) to the Cliffs of Moher, a collection of rocks, pastures, and swirling winds, 700 feet above the Atlantic Ocean.

The Connacht Hotel was our home in Galway. A twenty-minute walk from the center of Galway, Eyre Square, the Connacht was clean and functional. Behind it, and visible from our room, stood a field as green as could be imagined. Throughout the day, teams practiced or played matches on this field. These were mostly soccer teams, of various ages and capabilities. As one would suspect, the rain had no impact on the teams, and the only thing that seemed to change was the color of the sky.

It was, and remains, easy to imagine playing on one of these teams, the constancy of the practices and games, the periodic downpours, a visit to the pub after a game, and perhaps a more predictable rhythm, with the daily or weekly practice or game an integral part of it. While not quaint, like the towns along the Wild Atlantic Way, Galway has its charms, and compared to Dublin, it is quite compact, with many points of interest not more than few miles from Eyre Square. The pace is moderate, the people, friendly and welcoming. If there was stress, it was not readily palpable. Of course, it probably helped that I was on vacation, completely unplugged, but, still, there was less entropy here, less bustle, more time to focus on what’s important.

It is, of course, one thing to visit a place and quite another to live and work there, but there is something to be said for a fresh start, a new adventure, a change in scenery, even for a year or two, to recharge, refocus, and return with a new perspective and perhaps inspiration as well. One can dream about greener fields, in lands far away, but, in the meantime, I will work on finding more verdant pastures closer to home.

Comments welcomed.