Dietze, There's Something About Sligo

"To and fro we leap

And chase the frothy bubbles,

While the world is full of troubles

And anxious in its sleep"

- "The Stolen Child", W.B. Yeats

Lazily a-boarding the large white tour bus for our adventure to Sligo, I packed only what I needed for our short excursion to the countryside. I didn't know what to expect, but with IPod in hand so began the ride. 

I was pleasantly surprised at the contrast Sligo offered from the crowded streets of Dublin. I found it hard to catch a minute to stop and simply take in a breath, Sligo's quaintness allowed me to take in a moment. The bustling dark waters pushed through the tiny heart of the city. People dined outside overlooking its scenery and there was a smell of fresh flowers and warm food in the cold air. The streets were easily maneuverable compared to Dublin's sometimes overwhelming crowdedness, and the shops had fresh loaves of bread, homemade jam, and blueberry treats. I passed upon several curious-looking thrift stores and enjoyed my first fish & chips meal in one of the city's small pubs on O'Connell Street. 

As I ventured out of the town, the aroma of horse manure filled the air and fresh flowers of assortments of daisies, dandelions, and daisies were at my feet. It was easy to see the beautiful hilly side of the town that Yeats enraptured in his romantic poems. Small as it seems, I found myself wandering around its roads for hours discovering upon a subtly hidden Potato Famine Cemetery in a further run out part of town. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, and after taking some pictures, promptly left the shady area. Sligo is both quiet and screaming with unexpected adventure. 

My favorite part of Sligo was the journey up the top of Mount Knocknarea past the friendly cows and baa-ing sheep, bringing the city in an elegant view. Looking down upon the city, I began to see it in a different perspective. I was no longer in its one-plained flatness, I was above, seeing all of it at once, and like I was seeing it again for the first time. I wasn’t one of the discolored dots of people below, I was lifted and strong. Ireland's mystifying nature continues to amaze me and like Yeat's poem, I feel as if I am a "Stolen Child" in its wildness.