A warm light coming through the old stained-glass windows and
gently gilding the medieval pavements welcomed me as I was entering
the Christ Church in Dublin.
I decided to take the guided tour, eager to hear all about the huge crypt, the Strongbow tomb, the heart of St. Laurence O'Toole and the mummies of the cat and the rat; but the restless man who greeted our group had other plans.
We followed him to the Bell Tower. After a vertiginous stairs climbing, we entered a round room; bell strings were hanging down from the ceiling, close to the high stone walls. We sat at the table in the middle and the Ringing Master, our guide, started to talk. Soon, his voice and his energetic gestures became as hypnotizing as the fire; he wasn't the little grayed-hair man anymore but an ardent artist spreading the passion for his art. Without even noticing, I got caught into a story I never thought I'd be interested in, a story about bells and ringing techniques. I checked the sketches scattered over the table like I was under a spell, forcing my brain to understand how to build a bell. “The Christ Church is housing 19 bells, a world record for full-circle bell ringing.” He must have said this phrase hundreds of times before and I bet he did it with the same pride every single time!
He asked us to ring the church bells and I couldn't say no. I did my best, even if my arms got tired from the first seconds, even if I knew for sure that my chaotic ringing technique would scare people outside. My only concern was not to disappoint the man who was standing in front of me, talking like he had the most important and the most interesting job in the world. And, for about 30 minutes, he made me believe it too.
Back on the street, I smiled: Dublin finally gave me the gift I longed for. Not an unearthly encounter with a fairy, but with somebody equally precious: a man with a big passion who made me think that happiness might wait at the corner if I just follow the path of my passion.