Find the Color

What color typically comes to mind when you think of Ireland? Green?

Well, you wouldn't be wrong. From the sea green of the foamy waves crashing into the coast to the kelly green of the miles and miles of rolling hills to the emerald green of the Irish flag whipping in the wind, I felt as if I were awash in a sea of green.

But, let me tell you another color that seemed to dominate the landscape in Ireland: grey. Between the slate grey of the endless clouds above to the misty grey of the sidewalk down below, it might've been a bit difficult--in any other place--to not let my mood turn grey as well.

Luckily, I was in a place that is, in fact, brimming with color: I just had to look for it.

And I found it, alright.

I found it around the unexpected street corner in an abstract mural splashed with sunshiney yellows and sapphire blues, splotched with baby pinks and fiery oranges, splattered with ruby reds and forest greens.

I found it as I hunched my shoulders over my ever-tattering map in a friendly pat on the shoulder and a gentle "Can I help you find something?" coming from the voice of a complete stranger.

I found it when I let down my umbrella--realizing it was useless--in the magenta, violet, scarlet, and navy doors, leading into otherwise drab, brown buildings.

I found it as I shed my sopping wet coat in a charming corner cafe, infused with aromas of coffee, chocolate-y pastries, and warm shepard's pie.

I found it just when the dreary rain was getting to me in a patch of cheery petunias situated in the courtyard of St. Patrick's cathedral. Their vibrant faces pointed to the sky, they were engrossed in the rain's pitter-patter symphony, hanging on to the ping-ping of every last drop.

I found it in the warm embrace and contagious smile of my curly-haired friend who I hadn't seen in almost a year, but who nevertheless took me under her wing to show me the true Dublin.


I found it in the basement of a pub in the foot-stomping, knee-slapping, head-bobbing  rhythm coming from the combination of the Irish band's reedy flute and gravelly, husky voices, rounded out by the mellow, velvet-y acoustic guitar.

I found it the next day at the Cliffs of Moher in the soft blue sky streaked with a few gentle brush strokes of pinkish-white clouds--a gentle background for the jagged green cliffs that jutted into the skyline.

I found it--when I could barely keep my balance--in the ripping and roaring wind at the Cliffs that brought with it, clusters of pearl-white foam from the turbulent turqoise Atlantic below.

Depiste the rain, despite the cold, despite the grey, I found that color.

Now, it's your turn.