Dún na nGall

Irish is the first language here, though I have yet to hear it in daily conversation. My grandmother lived in Co. Donegal (fort of the strangers or foreigners), and I took the bus to the city. There are moments in travel where I have an inclination, an intuition, a gut feeling that I’d rather stay put. I bought the ticket, there is yarn store, and so off I went. I arrived in the city center teeming with people - tourists just like me. The sidewalks were so crowded, the Diamond (central plaza) is under construction for the 550 year anniversary so there is no place to sit and even breathe except the Abbey Hotel lobby. I regret that I came the minute I stepped off the bus. I hurried quickly to the Morna’s Patch (photo courtesy of Gerry Walsh), bought one skein of local yarn and another I had seen a knit group friend using, got a return bus ticket out of there as fast as I could. Nothing against tourists or Donegal, or the ubiquitous beautiful flags for the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) Irish football team. It was the crowds that made me feel claustrophobic. Travel is like life - easy and fun, a joy, or a challenge to navigate as gracefully as possible under the best of circumstances.