June came to a close as did my consulting gig, and with it a work-free existence and an unexpected early retirement of sorts. My mind was void of the countless balls I typically have been keeping in perpetual motion – no more juggling the endless sales opportunities in their different stages of prospecting and the business development dance I’ve spent the last two decades mastering. Suddenly I found myself with a quiet mind and copious amounts of time for reflection.
With the elimination of the constant chaos and appreciation to live my days out at my leisure, 
it brought with it unexpected endless dark waves of sadness. Finally mourning the loss of my mother who had passed only six months earlier, the realization all of my tribal elders have now transitioned and I’m next in line had me confronting my own mortality. My appreciation growing exponentially that this ride we’re all on is a finite one and not a dress rehearsal.
With the amazing gift of this window to completely unplug from the daily grind for a spell, I’d been given an opportunity to clearly define how I want to expend the rest of my breaths. What better way to stir one’s imagination and gain clarity of direction than a travel adventure – a “radical sabbatical”. With no itinerary or idea how long I’d be adrift, across the pond I headed.
Initially, I had booked a 10-day “cultural tour” around Cuba. My mother had planned on gifting me a trip with her to that magical caribbean island for my 50th birthday in July 2016, but she was diagnosed with Glioblastoma (a brain tumor) in May of that year at which time everyone’s focus shifted from ourselves to encircling the wagons around the family’s matriarch. It was one of the most brutal journeys of my life to date. A nine month emotionally wrenching sojourn watching the person who brought me into this world and with whom I had the most soulful connection slowly lose their life force. My planned trip to 
Cuba was to be cathartic, a healing release and opportunity to grieve my mother’s loss, and at the same time, reflect on the wonderful ride we had together. But Mother Nature had other plans as hurricane Irma landed on Havana the same day my arriving flight was scheduled to deliver me there. The company I had booked my excursion with refunded the full cost of my tour as did American Airlines with the full cost of my air travel, no questions asked, and both even proactive about it. Small miracles.
Happy to get a full refund, it still left me with a 
burning desire to travel, but I was back at square one. I decided I would find the cheapest airfare I could to Europe, book an airbnb for a couple of days and go from there. I found a flight from New York to Dublin for less than $200 on Norwegian Air and a cozy one bedroom flat in the heart of the city center to call home for a couple of days while I figured the next steps out. The Emerald Isle was a place I’d never been but always had wanted to visit, and two days later I was on Irish soil. And it was raining.
My European adventure planning could wait, so I dropped my bags off at my flat and headed out to explore the city of Dublin and all it had to offer. My initial impression was a good one, the architecture was a delightful combination of old world and postmodern, and remember thinking how it looked exactly like any number of the metropolitan business centers of the other EU countries I had visited over the years. There was definitely a cheerful energy in 
the air even with the non-stop tears from the sky. People were out en masse, window shopping and enjoying the many street musicians, their song echoing with perfect reverb off of the office buildings and storefronts. The narrow cobblestone streets mixed with waterways added an additional layer of beauty to this bustling metropolitan city. But admittedly my trip – and possibly my life – almost came to a quick end that day as I stepped off the curb to cross the street looking to my left for oncoming traffic when the bus approaching from my right almost ran me over. As with their UK counterparts, the Irish drive on the wrong side of the street (the left side).
Inquiring with several of the locals I passed by in the street where the absolute best fish and chips could be had, the consensus was unanimous – Leo Burdock. A small nondescript storefront that looked like it had been there forever, the sign hanging outside assured me it had – “DUBLINS OLDEST CHIPPER”. I ordered the single unsmoked fish which cost €6.70 ($7.60 USD), a copious amount of food by any standard which showed me our Super Sized fast food orders had nothing on these guys. The staff I interacted with were super friendly and my order was
filled with very little wait. With no seating options inside to speak of I headed outside and made the short walk to Christ Church, pulling up a curb underneath a tree to shelter from the rain while I ate my dinner. Using my single napkin sparingly to mop up the oil that was lovingly embracing both the fish as well as the chips, I couldn’t help but think of how many others over the last 100 years had done the exact thing I was doing in that same location.
After connecting with an old friend who invited to be my tour guide and show me around her UK island home and booking the travel for the next part of my journey, I decided to explore Ireland a bit with my final remaining day there. Malahide Castle was 14 km (9 miles) north, so I walked to the Dublin Pearse train station which was centrally located in the heart of the city and hopped on the 11:16am DART to Malahide. The 33 minute commute was a very comfortable and enjoyable one which provides a wonderful overview of the typography of Ireland as it takes you out of the city center to the remote coastline where Malahide Castle is located. And for €2.20 ($2.60 USD) it is quite the bargain when comparing what a tour bus would cost. At the train station in Malahide, I was confronted with the option of going on a 20 minute hike up to the castle or to get on the “award winning land train” Toots. Never experiencing an award winning land train before,
how could I possibly pass up the opportunity? Boy was it ever award winning and well worth the the cost (€6 or $6.81 USD), saving both time and the expulsion of energy climbing the ~1 mile steep ascent from the train station to the castle grounds.
By my curiosity was piqued. What exactly were the criteria for an award winning land train? And as my travels around Europe continued, every time I saw another land train hauling tourists around some other European landmark I found myself wondering – Was that one of the contenders Toots beat out? Was that the previous award winning land train that Toots dethroned? Are they as impressed by the award winning land train Toots as I am or do they know better?
Although smaller than I had envisioned a castle to be, Malahide was a castle nonetheless. The estate dates back to 1185. The story goes that Richard Talbot was a knight who accompanied Henry II to Ireland in 1174, granted the “lands and harbour of Malahide” for his service to the crown. It sits on over 250 acres of land and has become a favorite destination for both tourists and locals alike. The entry fee is €12 ($12.61 USD) which includes a tour of the interior with the rooms fully furnished according to the period, as well as access to the 4 acre castle grounds and a Butterfly House.
The God’s were smiling down, the glow of their teeth showering warm sunshine all over the Irish countryside. What a perfect day to visit the castle and its extensive grounds, and to wander around Malahide proper, a picturesque maritime village located on the Velvet Strand. This was a wonderful excursion and highly recommended way to expend a day in Ireland. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect and neither could have been my time spent on my first stop on my sojourn.
