Our trip to Ireland occasionally ventured into the land of the cliche. We drank pints of Guinness, we ate lamb stew, and we wondered every now and then if all of this wasn’t simply a show put on for the amusement of tourists. Because, seriously: A potato specialist? In Ireland? (I nearly hyperventilated.)
Our friend Hannah warned us that around the town of Cork, Ireland, people became very possessive of their beaches. I thought I misheard her, naturally. “This bitch belongs to no man-” I said, waving my finger defiantly in the air. (“See? This is why you aren’t allowed to have a podcast.” – Rand)
I spend a lot of my waking hours feeling subtle pangs of regret for all the things I should have said but didn’t, for all the tiny little things that I really wish I had done but ultimately did not. I am haunted by the specters of unrealized acts and things unsaid. In my life,…
The thing about Ireland – and Europe in general, really – is that there are castles all over the damn place. They’re sort of like Red Lobster restaurants in America. Everyone’s hometown has one, and they’re usually in various states of disrepair and completely empty. Unless relatives are visiting from afar, you probably aren’t going to…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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