Luck o' the Irish

For years, I wanted to move to Paris.  I wanted to embrace the Parisian life, eat pastries and drink strong black coffee at a cafe, wearing a beret and thick black eyeliner, people watching. Or typing my novel on a typewriter in my little garret apartment, because obviously I wanted to live in the movie version of Paris.  But then I went to Ireland.  And I was greatly swayed by the beautiful scenery and the history and the amazingness that is Ireland.  But I still had a sneaking feeling I wanted to go to Paris.  But then, this summer I spent a week in Quebec, where they don't speak English as their main language.  No no, they speak French. I love French, I really do.  I studied it for five years, so you'd think that I had some sort of handle on the language.  Now this was in high school, so we're talking years ago here.  So when I went to Quebec, I thought I would be awesome.  No. I was not.  I spent a week trying desperately to understand basic conversation and contribute something that was not stupid. Yeah it did not work out very well.

Now I have never actually BEEN to Paris, so I may be swayed again, but at the moment, if I could live anywhere, I would move (in a flippin heartbeat) to Killarney, Ireland.  It's a small town outside Dublin in County Kerry.  And I adore it.  It was amazing, the best vacation I have ever taken.  And I have taken A LOT of vacations. The scenery was amazing, the weather was divine, and the people were wonderful, AND I could understand them! And I picked up the accent, which is one of the sexiest things in the whole wide world.  Don't let anyone else tell you it's not.  Now I want to go back and (legally) drink at the fantastic little pub that was by our hotel.  Or partake in a Dublin pub crawl, which I didn't do last time, because I was 18 and with my dad.  Or do the Ring of Kerry again.  Man oh man.  Ireland, I miss you, and I'll be back sometime! I promise!!