Home is where the heart is

“Ough-te-rard”, he corrected me smiling, his green eyes piercing right through me. I instantly felt the world for him. Ough-te-rard. “There you go, you almost have it”. After a 10 days hike through the Irish west coast along countless natural wonders, I was instantly depressed by the island of asphalt that welcomed me when I arrived at the bus terminal in Galway. It was my last day in Ireland and I only had a few hours to find the closest green oasis before leaving. I went to the counter seeking information and soon realized: the closest place was in fact Oughterard. Ough-te-rard. It’s funny how a word can catch your attention for no apparent reason and suddenly be filled with a lifetime of meaning when it reappears, unexpectedly. I first read that name on a leaflet in Dublin, planning my journey to the coast. The hostel receptionist instantly dismissed it. It was not worth visiting, she said with disdain. He was bending softly over the counter, his eyes now fixed on my lips as I tried to pronounce that word. Ough-te-rard. For the fraction of a second, I was tempted to accept the offer of spending his lunch break together. Only the queue forming behind me brought me back to my senses. When I arrived in Oughterard, I felt a lump in my throat at the sight of asphalt. Eventually I discovered an unpaved road. I was deep in my thoughts when I found that my feet had brought me to a lake. I approached the shore attracted by the greenest grass and its stark contrast to the cerulean water. A mild wind blowing through the forest carried the sound of cheerful music. Soon I discovered a group of women floating in circles to the rhythm of bodhráns and mandolins. The oppressing feeling in my chest vanished and I was invited to join the fairies’ circle. Just as I was getting the grip of my first musical notes, time became a dimension again. I swung my bag around my shoulders, thanked my companions and ran towards the asphalt. Back in Galway, I doubted my decision again as soon as his eyes welcomed me. The station was crowded with people awaiting delayed buses. We had no time to even learn each others’ names when I had to board. With a tug at my heart, I took my seat and tried to convince myself that I was mourning an illusion. When I saw him neglect the queue for a second, trying to look through the tinted windows of my bus,I gave in to the impulse. When I returned to Oughterard with him my feet didn’t find that lake again. Maybe the fairies only welcome the downhearted.