A St. Patrick's Day Charade
Europe and, for that matter, most of the world now find themselves in the tightening grip of Covid 19 and all the restrictions and fears that come with it. The time before Corona Virus (BC) is nostalgically viewed through rose tinted glasses and now it's not just good summer weather were wishing for but one that does not have to include the buzz words of 'social distancing' that haunts our empty streets at the present. AC no longer stands for Air conditioning.
On Tuesday this was all brought into sharp relief for the Irish, pubs had been closed 36 hours previously, public gatherings were called off and there were to be no dancing people in green costumes parading around the streets. There were no parades. In short, St. Patrick had been taken down by the virus too. Cycling through Dublin on the 17th of March and you would have been forgiven for thinking that you were in the lost city of Atlantis. Despite the crackdown however, 'craic' cannot be cancelled and I'm sure that's what Paddy himself would have said. My own plans for the day had always been a little wacky anyway, wanting to subvert and co-opt the green that's always associated with the festivities into another kind of green and, essentially, turn St. Patrick into a vehicle for environmental justice. The dude with the crozier that drove snakes out Ireland would have no idea what hit him. I could talk at length about what the snakes and St. Patrick were to symbolize in my utopic Eco paddy's day but I will spare you. Let's just say that the idea of an a-typical paddy's was fine by me. Last year I hadn't even managed to have a Guinness so as long as that, at least, was achieved, things were pretty good.
Predictably my environmentalist paddy's day and march (both the month and the gathering) were not to unfold in quite the same way as I had hoped, however within the boundaries of this season of apocalypse, a new kind of success was reached. Like a bride must find something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue; I, for this strange Patrick's day, had to find something outdoors, something isolated, something cultural and something green. This was found in the shining beacon of hope that is Glendalough and all of it's rolling green hills, lakes and history. Hurrah! The copyright of this idea however must go to a pair of Italians who arrived in Ireland, I hasten to add, in the BC age.
Our team of three set off for the Wicklow hills in our white Go car (car sharing, dear readers, is the bomb.com and a pretty sustainable option, but don't worry the next trip will definitely be by bike) and rolled into the worryingly full car park hours before lunch.
The walking loop we took was multicoloured, meaning that we dipped into many of the trail offerings: Red, pink, blue and of course, green. Our hike took us along flat boardwalks, skirting along lakes, scrambling through muddy wet tracks, crisscrossing streams, trudging wide open grit paths, tunneling through dark coniferous forests and eventually emerging once again into open skies and the narrow tippy top of the valley's south side, the 'upper lake' far below us.
Wooden sleeper steps scale along the top of this valley wall allowing walkers to complete a loop all the way around the lake's mass and at all angles. First from high above and eventually down onto the old 'miners road'; on the lakes level but never allowing you to get cocky as it meanders its way between boulders, stone cottages and edges along miniature waterfalls spilling their way into the lakes open mouth. Our own mouths wanted to eat as soon as we had emerged from the forest's dark embrace so we sat atop the gorge and gorged on sandwiches. The soundtrack of the Hobbit, "far over the misty mountains cold" narrated our view. Life imitates art opined Oscar Wilde. Damn right, especially since Bluetooth speakers.
After successfully rounding the lake and managing to not get blown away by the furious wind we took a second pit stop on a flat rock, positioned like a crown at the head of the lake. The miners trail lay, still to be completed, to our left and to our right was the cliff top trail with lemmings still battling against the wind. As if on cue a conversation snippet drifted past our open ears: one man defining, expertly, the word 'resilience' to his friend, "the ability to withstand adversity and come out the other side". He could easily have been talking about the windy march or the pandemic which we are all currently living through. Who knows, but I appreciate his versatile contribution. Feeling ourselves resilient, we decided to toast 'coming out the other side' and shared around a can of beer. It was German, further adding fuel to the fire that this was a very unusual Patrick's day.
That evening my two Italian amici cooked up a storm and we dined on 'Risotto allo Zafferano', or in the less romantic sounding English, 'Saffron Risotto'. In this case, it included Irish beef sausage which the Italians were at pains to point out, was not the same. A perfect Patrick's day risotto however and a recipe fitting for the current situation: using the ingredients we have, something good can be made, it will take resourcefulness, community, creativity and change--quite possibly for the better. What we already have now becomes all the more significant.
On Tuesday this was all brought into sharp relief for the Irish, pubs had been closed 36 hours previously, public gatherings were called off and there were to be no dancing people in green costumes parading around the streets. There were no parades. In short, St. Patrick had been taken down by the virus too. Cycling through Dublin on the 17th of March and you would have been forgiven for thinking that you were in the lost city of Atlantis. Despite the crackdown however, 'craic' cannot be cancelled and I'm sure that's what Paddy himself would have said. My own plans for the day had always been a little wacky anyway, wanting to subvert and co-opt the green that's always associated with the festivities into another kind of green and, essentially, turn St. Patrick into a vehicle for environmental justice. The dude with the crozier that drove snakes out Ireland would have no idea what hit him. I could talk at length about what the snakes and St. Patrick were to symbolize in my utopic Eco paddy's day but I will spare you. Let's just say that the idea of an a-typical paddy's was fine by me. Last year I hadn't even managed to have a Guinness so as long as that, at least, was achieved, things were pretty good.
Predictably my environmentalist paddy's day and march (both the month and the gathering) were not to unfold in quite the same way as I had hoped, however within the boundaries of this season of apocalypse, a new kind of success was reached. Like a bride must find something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue; I, for this strange Patrick's day, had to find something outdoors, something isolated, something cultural and something green. This was found in the shining beacon of hope that is Glendalough and all of it's rolling green hills, lakes and history. Hurrah! The copyright of this idea however must go to a pair of Italians who arrived in Ireland, I hasten to add, in the BC age.
Our team of three set off for the Wicklow hills in our white Go car (car sharing, dear readers, is the bomb.com and a pretty sustainable option, but don't worry the next trip will definitely be by bike) and rolled into the worryingly full car park hours before lunch.
The walking loop we took was multicoloured, meaning that we dipped into many of the trail offerings: Red, pink, blue and of course, green. Our hike took us along flat boardwalks, skirting along lakes, scrambling through muddy wet tracks, crisscrossing streams, trudging wide open grit paths, tunneling through dark coniferous forests and eventually emerging once again into open skies and the narrow tippy top of the valley's south side, the 'upper lake' far below us.
That evening my two Italian amici cooked up a storm and we dined on 'Risotto allo Zafferano', or in the less romantic sounding English, 'Saffron Risotto'. In this case, it included Irish beef sausage which the Italians were at pains to point out, was not the same. A perfect Patrick's day risotto however and a recipe fitting for the current situation: using the ingredients we have, something good can be made, it will take resourcefulness, community, creativity and change--quite possibly for the better. What we already have now becomes all the more significant.
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