In 2004, I had the unique opportunity to spend three weeks in Ireland! It was my first trip to Europe and I was over the moon with excitement and anticipation! I went with two friends, both of whom had been to Ireland several times, so I knew I was in good hands. My friends gave me all sorts of advice before I left and one even made me unpack several outfits and several pairs of shoes from my oversized suitcase.
We rented a car and drove from end to end, staying at B&Bs along the way. Knowing that one of my friends would be driving most of the time and the other was excellent with navigation, I was a bit anxious about what my role might be. I wanted to contribute in some way so that they would be happy that they invited me. I finally decided that I would have to settle for being positive, nice, and accommodating. I could provide the fun! Little did I know what that would entail…
We spent our first day in Ireland on a large dairy farm, visiting a farmer my friends had met on a previous trip. We walked for hours on his beautiful land, carefully stepping through mud puddles and cow patties. The landscape was awesome! I had never seen pastures so green and cattle so beautiful. He even had a small beach on his land, full of wonderful and interesting stones.
At some point in our hike, we went from open grass to a narrow trail. It was getting harder and harder to stay out of puddles and avoid cow empanadas. In fact my shoe broke and I was dragging it behind me to protect my foot. The closer we got to the barn, the more treacherous our path became.
We were walking along the edge of the trail to avoid the deep mud when I lost my footing! My fleeting thought as I fell was that my feet would be covered in mud. Imagine my shock and horror when I landed on my thighs and realized I was standing in a mud pit! Fortunately, as I fell, an arm reached out to break my fall, and when I straightened up, my left arm and both legs were covered in cow dung!
After what seemed like endless laughter and pictures, I asked my friend to help me out of the pit. His instant response was: “I’m not going to touch you.” Thank God he had a clean hand or he would probably still be there. The “suction action” reminded me of what quicksand must feel like!
The only one who didn’t think it was hysterically funny was the farmer. He helped me hose me off and he even lent me a pair of his jeans to wear back to the hotel. When we asked him if he would tell his friends in the pub that night about the crazy Americans, he replied in his Irish accent: “No, they wouldn’t. Even the cows know better!”