Irish Time


What time is it? Let me check my clock.

This picture still makes me giddy.

On our first trip to Ireland, which was also our honeymoon, our plans were no plans. We were packed for the weather, had a general idea of what cities we should hit, armed ourselves with B&B vouchers and a rental car…Ireland was ours. We took a red eye and landed in Dublin early in the morning, picked up our car and headed to Kilkenny. Upon arrival there, my husband realized his watch was stopped. I didn’t wear a watch myself then and we didn’t have a European cellphone at the time to reference either.

We stopped at the local watch/jeweler store in town and they were so helpful, but it was more than a battery replacement, the watch itself was broken somehow. We had a pretty tight budget, what with pubs to occupy and everything, so we went to an Irish department store to see if we could find something affordable.  Not just there, but we couldn’t find an affordable watch anywhere. Instead, we found a dinky and fairly cheap travel clock.

I realize that, to you, there’s really not a lot of humor to what I’m about to tell you. But I tell you that each time, for the next two weeks, when a question of “what time is it?” or “how much time do we have till…?” came up, my husband pulled a small clock out of his pocket, and I laughed till I cried. It was probably the manner in which he did it, as if everyone carried a bulky analog clock for reference. And I truly forgot about him carrying a clock each time I asked, so the pure amusement it gave me made him laugh just as hard, after pretending to be serious about checking the time of course.  I think I would still laugh hysterically if he pulled that out of his fleece pocket today.

The picture above is my lame attempt to showcase our new “watch” with a simple elastic hairband at a Cork B&B. It looked so large on my thin little arm. In combination with the pure happiness of what Ireland gave us on that trip and the one that followed, we still smile because time doesn’t even seem to matter in Ireland anyway.  Everything seems so relaxed, sort of how distance can always be determined as “down the road”, whether its 1km or 20.


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