by Charlotte Levins (Temple University)
I AWOKE EARLY ON SUNDAY, the first morning I had ever experienced in Armagh. A beagle was crying in the kennel below my window and its dog-sitter was probably too sleepy to take it to the potty. It whined outside for at least forty-five minutes, during which the neighboring dogs began to wail, creating a disturbing discord. I decided to submit to my stomach, which was growling in unison with the dogs, and give it some nutrition.
The sun dominated the sky that Sunday morning, though the clouds proved acceptable accents on the blue canvas. Although the blue sky and green hilltops were inspirational, my body still required caffeine before it could frolic in the sunshine. I tapped on Meg’s door and we both set out to find the cutest coffee shop. Oh, I could just picture myself sipping delectable infusion of espresso beans and milk in the shade of an outdoor café! But to my astonishment, every shop was closed! Born and raised in inner city Philadelphia, I had never seen a small town completely shut down on such a glorious morning. So what did I do? Panic.
Despite the obstacles I faced, I was determined to find my coffee. Meg and I stalked every road, alley, and corner in search of the object of our desire. Nearly ready to forfeit my quest, I saw a girl dancing her way over to the mailbox with a letter in hand. Well, of course she was not really dancing, but she walked with a slight bounce—almost as if she were tapping to the beat of Judy Garland’s “Come On, Get Happy.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “Do you know of a place where I can get a cup of coffee?”
“Aye,” she said, abruptly ending the song and dance in her head and feet. “You can get some at the hotel, which is just, ehh, down the road, but I’ll be glad to take ya there if ya’d like.”
After I responded in the affirmative, the girl skipped over to the mailbox, disposed of her mail, and she, Meg, and I were on our way. I walked over to the left hand side of the front seat with the girl, whose name she stated was Donna, and plopped myself in front of the steering wheel. How embarrassing--I forgot that the steering wheel was on the other side! Luckily Donna just savored a hearty laugh and we continued on our merry way.
Donna told Meg and I that Armagh is a sleepy town. She said that most of the young people go to the hotel for fun on the weekends or drive to Newry and Belfast.
The drive only lasted about two minutes. We arrived at the hotel and waved good-bye to Donna. I realized that few people in my own neighborhood in Philadelphia would be so trusting of strangers to give them a ride. I regret that I did not get her phone number because then I would have had a connection to someone in the town. But I still had another three weeks here, so I may see her yet. After all, Armagh is a small city.
I indulged myself that morning with a warm, buttery, cinnamon raisin scone and a mug of hot coffee.
Since my stomach was at peace, I climbed up hill to the Cathedral where I could see the town center and the rolling hills in the distance. The homes and shops seemed to swim the hills just has a dolphin swims through the waves—gently flowing with nature. The hills role into each other and the town just rises and falls with the hills. They say that there are 40 shades of green in Ireland, but I disagree. There must be hundreds of shades in Armagh alone.
“This is what my heaven looks like,” I thought as I absorbed the earth, sky, and cobblestone streets below. “Just like Armagh.”
A Cup of Coffee
