Running in the Rain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saw the storm blowing in when I left, but didn’t bother about a bit of rain
Deep purple clouds mixed with sheets of grey falling from the sky
And faint booms were heard in the distance

My pace quickened as I walked along the beach
A salty fragrance hung in the air
Tepid wind whipped against my face

I reached my half way mark and turned to go back
Facing the wall of water coming towards me
A huge smile crossed my face, a twinkle in my eye

Deep down, I was hoping it would catch me, and it didn’t disappoint
I heard the first drops amongst the leaves of the trees
Then felt them faintly against my skin

Wind pushed the storm closer, and I ran straight into it
Hot, white lightning seared the sky with a blinding flash
Thunder crashed overhead, like the sound of giant fists pounding on hollow drums

The heaven’s opened and rain lashed the city
Falling so hard and so fast, the streets instantly ran as rivers
Huge droplets pummelled the earth and rang as gravel would against the rooftops

Eyes closed, looking up, I smiled as the pure water rushed down my face
My skin was pale from being cold, and rosy from running
Wet, red curls lay plastered against my neck

With nowhere to be and no one to impress
Enjoying the experience of the storm all around
I was free to run in the rain

Munich is HOT!

Hot German guys, great beer, heavy food, and colleagues who teased me for saying "Awesome!"
What's not to love about Munich!

When I arrived in customs at the Munich airport, an incredibly attractive German security officer greeted me and looked over my passport.  I tried not to stare.  Having my passport reviewed in airports always made me nervous anyway, so in this case, it was all I could do not to fidget and bite my lip as he took his time looking through my passport stamps.  Once he was finished, he asked me how long I'd be in Munich, to which I replied I'd be there on business for three days.  "Only three days?" he asked.  "I wish it was longer," I replied, meaning it.

At the hotel, I was checked in by another very attractive German man, and this one was more chatty as he went through my registration and assigned me a room.  I was all smiles.  I liked Munich.

Regardless of the fact that I spent most of my time in hotel conference rooms, it was a great trip.  It was really the company that made it.  I was introduced to another of our European sales teams, comprised of colleagues from Germany, Poland, Turkey, and the Netherlands.  They were all very mellow, and I found them calming and intriguing.  I was hyper and excited, and they found me entertaining. 

In the evenings we went out for some fantastic meals.  Meat, potatoes and gravies were the specialties of the region, and they were entirely tasty. The team preferred ice with their white wine, and because it was warm (for them) I didn't give them too much grief.  In fact, we head entered a " heat wave" as they called it, which meant a succession of 5 days or more with temps above average, or around 80 degrees for the folks back home.  Yes, they are warm weather wimps here.

We had some spirited discussions, during points of which I would speak with conviction and purpose (in other words, loudly) and the far end of the table would usually stop to look at me, as they were not used to raised voices during dinner conversations. As I was always speaking with my hands, and typically with a smile, they knew I wouldn't kill anyone, but were nervously interested none the less.  I thought about the fact that the Piccardo family having a meal in the vicinity would sound like full on war to them. 

The last day of the conference, one of our sales team took me out for in-store visits.  This gave me a chance to see the city for a bit, and in broken English, he described the buildings and some of the local hot spots.  He took me through an open market, which had an amazing selection of fresh fruits, veggies, meats and cheeses.  As it was over 80 degrees outside, everyone was eating ice cream.  We stopped at a spot along one of the rivers that ran through town, and at this particular bridge, the architect had designed a series of rocks under the river bed that would create a constant wave as the water passed over them.  It was a local surfing spot.  Yes, guys lined up along the river near the bridge to jump in and surf the wave.  It looked like great fun!

The time in Munich was much too short, and I'll have to make a point of coming back to explore.  After describing my cheesecakes to the team, they have all graciously offered to have me come stay with them when I do my rounds. :)  Good times.

The Wicklow Mountains

Wicklow.  The name conjures up a sense of mystic adventure.  I've decided I'm going to have to create some kind of sinful dessert to call by the same name.

The Wicklow Mountains are situated 45 minutes or so outside of Dublin by car.  They are a series of beautiful, scenic miles encompassing mountains, lakes, bogs and marshes.  The town of Glendalough, which also sounds very majestic, is within the same region.  The town grew up around a series of Monastic ruins which are by themselves impressive.  Take into account the surreal beauty surrounding them, and you almost wish you lived in the small town back when it was isolated.

I walk through the ruins and cemetery, noting the stark contrast between the historic site and the people walking through it.  Neon sneakers, cell phones, and various cultures and languages mull around the church, the houses, the graves...  We are walking through people's homes, a civilization they broke their backs to build and maintain.  I wonder what the people buried here would think of the invasion of tourists, our current civilization both advanced and backwards at the same time.  As I watch the masses wind around, it occurs to me that we, the tourist population, are a bit like a plague.  There's virtually no place on earth you wont find us, even in the harshest conditions.  We will invade every sight of interest, take our pictures, and move on...most of us without real appreciation or consideration for the hallowed grounds we walk upon, and the stories they've seen, the lives they've captured. 

There were lakes nearby, and trails leading all around them.  To get to the upper lake, there were two possible paths, one longer than the other, and so as the hoards of tourists walked via the shorter trail, I turned off and went  for the other.  I didn't care whether it took me longer to get there, as long as I could do so in peace, appreciating the scenery as it might have been back when the people of Ancient Glendalough lived here.

The marshes and bogs were beautiful, despite their ugly names.  That's subjective, I know, but a "bog" just sounds like it would be unattractive.  These, however, weren't.  The path wound through the marshes and into the forest.  I really did feel as through I was a fairy, gliding through the forest of my mind's favorite fairy tale.  Talkative waters streamed through a babbling brook.  There were soft beds of inviting grass, and the hundreds of thin trees allowed rays of sunlight to illuminate the grounds.  I thought to myself that these are the landscapes where myths and legends are born.  I will let the pictures tell the story from here...let your imagination play.

 

 

Hiking the sea cliffs of Howth...what better way to end a week of extreme ups and downs?

After a week that's put you through hell, there's nothing better than waking up on a sunny, Saturday morning with nothing in particular on the agenda.  The morning was crisp and clean, the day full of potential and possibilities.

I lazily rolled over in bed, weighing the options I had for the day as the blue sky called to me from outside the window.  Given the taxing, strenuous roller coaster the week had been, I decided a good hike would be the way to go.  I hadn't yet visited the fishing town of Howth, and a colleague had recommended the sea cliff hike.  It sounded like the perfect way to work out the stress, enjoy the beautiful sunshine and soak in the 75 degree weather.

I jumped out of bed, made my breakfast omelet, and packed up some fruit and water.  I dipped myself in sun screen, let it all soak in, and was on my way out the door.  It was only a 30 minute drive to Howth from the apartment, and the bright, sunny morning was inspiring, relaxing, and energizing all at the same time. 

I arrived in Howth and drove through the center of town to the sea cliffs.  As a working fishing harbor, there were boats everywhere, and it was beautiful and quaint.  I drove through to the sea, where the roads became steep and windy, eventually dumping me off right at the base of the trail.  I hauled my backpack on, turned on my MP3 player, and went to look at the map.  There were various trail options.  The longest one wound itself completely around the bluff, up to the summit, and back through the center of town.  It was around 9 miles long, labeled "Hard", and sounded perfect!  Off I went.

Within 5 minutes of walking the music in my ears annoyed me.  It was too harsh a contrast to the sweet breeze and glistening sea views.  I turned the player off and stashed it in my backpack, preferring the rhythm of my thoughts as a compliment to the views.

The cliffs were beautiful, and on their sides, 100s of seagulls perched.  They were chattering, and the combination sounded like a noisy restaurant packed on a Friday night, with tons of different conversations going on.  As I listened to the gulls, I could make out ups and downs in the volume of the overall conversations, and the simile was intriguing.

I had traded conference rooms, emails and work headaches for winding sea cliffs.  Below, I watched the fishermen haul in their catch.  I was conscious of the warm sun beating against my white, exposed legs.  The cool breeze was a welcome relief as productive beads of sweat formed on my forehead.  It dawned on me that a couple weeks ago I had been riding a bike through the streets of London, yesterday I was walking through an open market in Munich, and today I was hiking the sea cliffs of Dublin.  It was an adventure like no other.  It was teaching me that I liked me space, my own schedule and agenda.  I loved traveling, for work or otherwise.  I loved the regional teams and their unique perspectives.  The thought of sitting back at my desk in Milpitas jarred me, and as I continued on my hike, it was with an air of defiance as my problem solving wheels started turning.

As I was driving home later that afternoon, Shinedown's song "Second Chance" played on the radio, and it gave me chills.  Windows down, hair blowing free in the wind as the sun played in the Dublin sky, it occurred to me that anything is possible.