You should not go to the mountains alone. Because you never know what might suddenly happen. A woman who stayed with us last year also said that she would be fine on the hike to Carrantuohill, but she got stuck in a crack and had to be rescued by helicopter.
-so said John, when I announced that tomorrow I am going to the mountains alone. And he was right, but my desire to climb was stronger than fear that the wind would blow me off the ridge of the higgest mountain of Ireland.
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For the summer escapade we went three times to County Clare which stretches on the south from Galway. We have discovered the Burren dominated by glaciated karst, bright spaces but also caves, mysterious archaeological traces, cliffs of all sizes, magical greenness and colourful cottages.
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When the light goes out over my story, I hesitate to get up and make a coffee in an orange mug but I do it and go into the darkness. The wipers can not keep up with the ocean that pours in front of my eyes. I feel dizzy in my head for thirty minutes. And finally, I see that sheep also like to hide under a rock.
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When I was a small I was asking “What is life, mom?”.
You see life is me and you, this bird, that tree and flower – she was answering to me.
from the song of Dżem “Naive questions”.
Summer came. Connemara has dressed in juicy green and now looks like a land of hobbits. Fragrant, soft, blissful.
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This city wear jeans and spreads poems in culs-de-sacs. Here time is like the ocean, patiently shining between my fingers.
Twelve years ago I met a city inlet of the Atlantic, full of shimmering colours, sincere tolerance, songs flowing to the heart – and the loud cries of seagulls. Then I thought that I would like to live here someday. After some years, the fleeting vision turned into reality. I have lived in Galway for seven years.
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He is a painter, his job is to paint. For himself, for painting, because that is his vocation, because he would not be able to not transform what he sees into the painting works.
– wrote Henri Perruchot in the book “Cézanne”.
This is one of my favourite publications. It made me want to go to Aix-de-Provence, a small town in France, where a boy was born, who at the age of five scribbled with charcoal on the walls of what surrounding him, and people were surprised how realistic it was.
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Dublin is a city of colourful doors, poetic quotes even on urban electric boxes, surreal bridges crossing the river Liffey, double-decker buses, songs, grunge style, parks, retro dresses, people’s gestures above law, idyllic cafes, giant windows and diverse cultures shaking hands every day.
So if you visit Dublin only for one day – relax and let to experience yourself this character.
The famous monuments leave for the future.
I promise you that even half a day in Dublin is enough to make you feel like on the meeting with peculiar friend.
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There is one place in Wroclaw, Poland, where I always drop in, even if I come to the city for only two days. This point has became my personal symbol of Wroclaw which I miss.
Kawalerka Cafe – is a tiny coffee shop located on Benedytkt Polak street opposite the blocks from postmodern architecture or cosmic blocks as I usually call them, nearby the Grunwald Bridge and my flat where I used to live. The interior is decorated in 60s and 90s style. Not so long ago you could choose a music from tape records and play it on.
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The first day of Christmas is gray. I pour coffee into an orange, travel cup and tea into a thermos, wrap four pieces of poppy seed cake. We go to Connemara. Can’t imagine to visit her on Christmas, actually I can’t already imagine to live without her.
Beige hills, raw rocks, wet khaki colorued grasses and white-blue sheep awake me to the authenticity.
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Galway is Irish city inlet of Atlantic. City full of shimmering colours, heavy rain, sincere tolerance, culs-de-sacs, flowing to the heart songs, and loud cry of gulls. My no perfect city with some spaces, which make really antidepressant effects. One of them is:
PLEASURE coffee and vinyls records.