That's what I did last weekend, how about you?
Last Sunday, or maybe it was the one before that, I was sitting at my beloved laptop here spending what amounted to a fine day at a desk, much like I do every day of the week, but with the added pleasure of guilt: I should do something, turn this off and go get a life, you'll be computer-bound tomorrow hating yourself if you don't get out there... And then luckily, FFS rode to the rescue. She called and wanted to do something that would get her out of bed, so I suggested we take the train down to my personal favorite, Dun Laogherie. She agreed and we congratulated ourselves all the way down to the sea.
It was a fine day indeed; bright warm sun, just a hint of a breeze, hundreds of people out and about enjoying what I can only decided is God's idea of a reward for the previous week of rain and winter like temperatures. So we went to the sea and had a coffee and a good catch up. We decided to take a walk out onto the pier, something I've never done, because it's usually too windy or cold or wet, which is all code for "I'm a wimp". But the Buddy System really works for me, so when she suggested it, I agreed. And we walked the entire way to the lighthouse and back. In bare feet even. The stone pier is as smooth as marble and the sun rendered it just warm enough to feel amazing on bare feet.
About halfway there is where Lad of the White Ass comes into our story. They were fishing. In the marina. Which was really just a code for "let's go drink some beer" if I've ever seen one. Except this happened:
He actually caught a fish. A small one, sure, but most unexpected on both parties parts. As you can see, it's a marina. I realize it opens to the sea, but still. Hundreds of boats park there. People accidentally spill cocktails there. I guess I figured the fish would see this as a No Go area. Maybe his little fishy is an adrenalin junkie. He certainly had a great tale to tell when he swam back home. And I doubt he'll ever visit the marina again. Actually, he'll be the one at the entry, daring others to go in, saying things like: it's not that bad, I did it and it turned out fine, Ok, if you want to be a chicken...
We walked up the sea a little farther and decided to camp here for a bit:
That's the pier wall on the left. Glorious place to camp out and watch the open sea. Or, in the case of the people in the centre of the photograph, bask on the rocks like a lizard. It's so peaceful being by the sea. I had never really understood it before when people would talk about how they simply couldn't live without 'being near the water'. I get it now. Growing up landlocked, it seemed to me a very hippie, liberal, California statement. Like Save the Whales or Legalize Pot. A little self-indulgent, a lot mountain out of a mole hill. But actually, it is a very calming influence and the idea of going back to a place where there is no ocean... I just can't see it happening. Does that make me a liberal?
We went to the park next for some lovely little culinary treats, where I was introduced to my new favorite thing on earth: dill pesto. I tried it and just as the sales girls was launching into her pitch I sort of exclaimed "That's going home with me!" and being an American, it was none to quietly stated either. I love fresh dill and that was just amazing. In fact, I think I'll head back down today for some more. That jar didn't last nearly long enough. I believe the term I'm searching for is inhaled.
We spent most of the afternoon at the water, watching the waves, the kids chasing pigeons, people just milling about. Such a great day. After a lengthy discussion of how cold the water most likely was, prompted by seeing several people swimming, we stepped into the surf, me first, a little tenatively, afraid of slipping and pitching headlong into the water and the rocks:
It was cold. Not enough to worry about, but enough to make you squeal and then think 'that feels good actually. Don't believe me? Let's hear from Suzie:
I love that photo and cannot wait to frame it. I'm all: Ummm... I dunno about this... and She's all: Here. Let me show you how to do this. Which is really opposite from our personalities. I'm more reckless abandon in life while she's more likely to get her ducks in a row before leaping.
As we were walking back to the train station, my ear was pulled to the 40' Bar where a jazz band was playing. It's been ages since I've listened to jazz. And Suzie being Suzie, she dragged me onto their patio and plunked me down with a glass of wine to listen to the band. Well, to the trio actually. They were good. Much better than we'd thought they would be considering they were covering the BeeGees and Gloria Gaynor. You simply haven't lived till you seen 2 men doing the Jazz version of I Will Survive.
But what I want to know is, what is the guy in the green playing? That's the strangest bass I've ever seen. And his partner? Looks like Art Garfunkle's love child. They really weren't bad and I'd go hear them again. I wouldn't hire them for my wedding, mind you...
We finished the day on the patio and headed home, still congratulating ourselves on not wasting the day. I made pasta with the dill pesto, which we both loved and then we curled up to watch a DVD my study partner left for me: Respiro. It's an Italian film, made in Sicily. Quiet little film but very nice. It made me dream of water and fish. Or maybe DL did that. Hard to say really.