i got back into ireland two days ago at nearly midnight. dublin was as rainy and cold as the pilot had promised us it would have been just prior to our departure from Trapani airport in Sicily. I had a small burst of laughter when he made his announcement. apparently i was the only person on board who found humour in his irony.
although i am sure he was not intentionally ironic.
i am back in cork with a cup of coffee, a pad of paper and surrounded by the sent of ireland. the nostalgia nearly knocked me over as i entered the pub. sounds and smells i had long forgotten battled for significance and recognition. it was if i was walking into the bar in stratford, the one i worked so many years ago, on a weekday morning. the left over smells of the night before mixed with the residue of lemons and limes of the morning cleaning crew. a few tables are occupied by some afternoon risers that appear to have arisen in the spot they are in having only left the table through in their dreams.
working a morning shift at the bar in stratford had a way of making me feel out of place. i never discussed it with anyone, and really never thought much of it. in fact, i don't think i even understood it until i entered this pub today. the sights and sounds i recognized, but it was the time of day that didn't make sense. a place the i knew well and at the same time unwelcome.
i've been thrown back into a mix of weather and smells and sights and sounds that i know and recognize and understand and yet, and yet they almost don't feel quite right.
it is amazing how difficult it is adjusting to a new culture a second time
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