The Amazing Maracas Player!

I found a local community church! Got the phone number and decided to give them a ring to see what time the service is. When we showed up on Sunday morning we were greeted with such kindness and love. In a few minutes time, Hillary was holding the newest born child of the church and we were being given the run down on everyone who came to the church. Haha - most of the people, though, were late or just didn’t show up because of the time change. This created some chaos - the piano player wasn’t there (we all know how important a piano player is in church - MOM), the heat wasn’t turning on, the internet wasn’t working properly, etc etc... We had a lovely time of singing - Hill was dubbed the best maracas player in the country. Apparently the pastor is from Michigan and is a pastor for a few churches in County Kerry, so he comes for Thursday night services. I had talked to him on the phone earlier that week (Pastor Barry) - so when we showed up, everyone had heard of a girl named Ericka. Haha - oh Ireland. My favourite lady there is Eileen. An Englishwoman with the craziest life story/Jesus moment. It was a lovely experience and we hope to become chummy with this community.

Yesterday we stopped by an old castle ruin on the other side of Cahirsiveen. Our other housemate, Zuzy (from Slovakia), came with us - She is usually working, at a garden, everyday, so it was fun to have her accompany us.

You know, Jeanne and I were just talking about how we go on all of these adventures and how it can be difficult to portray to others the incredibleness of it all. There are so many details that can go into one story that complete it, but are very minor by themselves. So, I am going to try to explain this little adventure in a different way (with some help from my friend, Jane).

We have found one CD that works in our car that is neither classical piano nor non-authentic native american music, and that we can mostly agree with. We arrived at our destination having listened to the seventh song of the CD for the thirty-first time. It has a slight electronic style to it, but a laid back sound that had put us all into a melancholy mood. After dodging a barbed-wire fence and walking up a grassy hill, we were in the shadow of a massive ruin. It had ivy growing the whole of the west wall and the afternoon sun was putting a golden glow on the entire setting. As always, I was coming up in last - it has it’s advantages. I am able to pick up on people’s tendencies. Miriam is always trying to scale a wall; Jane tries to do something daring but hesitates halfway through (Miriam yelling at her to keep going); Zuzy takes lovely photos; and Hillary assess the whole of the situation, usually by going to the top straightaway or walking all the way around first. Today though - Hillary was already through the ruin to check the grounds on the other side; Jane somehow made it to the outside wall first and was already climbing up it to a hole; Miriam was right behind her; and Zuzy was taking a photo of the whole ruin. I went through a ground level hole in the wall, scaled a wall to another hole where I met both Jane and Miriam. We found Hillary at the top of the structure. The back of the ruin being gone, we took in the green fields with the sea behind. And because it is an extraordinary moment, I took a picture of Jane and Hill jumping (I hope you all don’t get too tired of our jumping photos. It’s the only thing that makes sense in an epic moment). I joined Hill and Zuzy in a room - they were discussing, in a sarcastic tone, about how the nine by five foot room was the perfect place to live; the hole in the ground serving as both the toilet and garbage. I looked to the south where a wall should have been and saw Jeanne running down the grassy field, Miriam’s camera in hand -

meanwhile Zuzy left the room and had been replaced by a couple.

This moment will now be captured and translated through the eyes of Jeanne Debanne:

Not knowing what to do, having explored the entire castle (or almost), I went down into the large grass field dominated by the ruins. When I looked up, I chuckled: Hillary and Ericka had found fellow Americans, a couple in their fifties visibly travelers. They were chatting, all four in a corner of the castle, as if they met in the living room of a mutual friend's house on a sunday afternoon. Zuzana was wandering aimlessly on the crooked paths inside the castle, and Miriam, as usual, had scaled a wall at the far end of the ruin and her silhouette told me she was absorbing the view and was quietly marveling.