There’s no place like home

It takes an extended stay far from home sometimes, to help you appreciate it better. That is certainly the case, as I close the curtain on a magical visit to Ireland, on a quest for information regarding long-determined ancestors.

For those who have never been (and I’m thinking that’s more readers than less) the Republic is indeed a bucolic wonderland of sheep and cows grazing on verdant hillsides. I should add that Northern Ireland appears so as well, though none of that applies to Dublin and I am guessing to Belfast as well. As for the pastoral views, they are marred only by the occasional nee to traverse extremely narrow roads in the rural places. They make our roads in the Bayou Region look and feel like superhighways. I may never complain about a New Orleans pothole again. My thoughts on this are heavily colored, no doubt, by the experience of having to sit, steer and shift on the right side of my rented Opel. It is quite easy to forget that all turns must result in traveling “to the left, to the left” as the phrase I tried remembering dictates. But there were times I did not remember.

The many charms of this island nation I shall gush over in another print venue to which all that is more suited. Suffice it to say that the trip was pleasurable, memorable and one of the greatest experiences of my life to this point, other than discovering years ago that I had been adopted by Louisiana and its people.

I did learn during this trip that we don’t hold the patent on friendliness and hospitality in Louisiana, although we may well be first in the U.S. And our ability to make strangers feel welcome and at home overall can never be disputed.

As this was my first ever overseas trip, I marveled at the “new” dietary fare that I was offered, and hungrily ate as much of it as I could. But now, as the clock ticks rapidly toward my return, I must say that a plate of Louisiana wild-caught shrimp, some Grand Isle oysters and a nice home-cooked gumbo will be welcome palate-pleasers. I miss the ability to taste any of these, even though I don’t always avail myself of them. When it comes to food offerings, there is indeed no place like home.

Being away has also taught me to appreciate the great diversity of our people in Louisiana. About all of the people I speak with in Ireland look a lot like me in one way or another. I should mention that Irish people and culture were a big draw for this trip. But I am pleased I live in a place where we have a rainbow of people and cultures, in some cases all blended together, to marvel at and learn from.

There is one thing I noticed during this trip that I feel duty-bound to share with all of you back home. Each village I visited had its very own locally-owned restaurants, local clothes shops, local butchers, and local just about everything. It was a pleasure to see that people are so supportive of these local businesses that their survival over generations has not thus far been threatened, at least not in the provinces and little towns through which I passed.

It reminded me of how important our local businesses are in the Bayou Region, whether they are larger locally-owned food markets like Cannata’s, Rouses or Fred’s. or tiny little dog-grooming shops or gift stores. Upon my return I shall be cherishing them all the more, and spending my dollars in such places whenever possible.

There is one other thing I am eager to experience, besides the beautiful and rich smell of bayou mud — yes, I mean that for real — but also once more driving on the right side of the road, and not having to feel like I am a teenager learning to drive for the first time.