I spent a day in the beautiful Irish countryside, and it was wonderful to see the gently rolling hills and ambling puffs of white (aka herds of sheep) in the distance of wherever I traveled to.

Ashleigh and I began our day at Brú na Bóinne, or Newgrange, which is the site of a Neolothic passage tomb that predates the Egyptian pyramids by 500 years! From the outside, the tomb is a grassy dome with restored white quartz walls that rise austerely from the earth. Boulders around the tomb are carved with ancient pagan symbols, like the famous triple spiral that is thought to symbolize the fluidity of life: birth, death, and rebirth.

Being inside the tomb was an amazing experience. I crouched and squeezed past the narrow walls of the long passage, which open to a beautiful chamber with 3 carved shrines set equidistant apart. During the winter solstice the sun shines into the tomb and illuminates it for a few moments, so that the light can carry the souls of the dead into heaven. The ceiling is made of overlapping slabs of stone set in concentric circles. Being inside such an ancient and holy place felt spiritual; I wondered about who the gods were that the people who built the tomb prayed to, and the meaning behind the different symbols they carved into rock.

The next place we visited was an old monastery near the border of Northern Ireland, that houses many elaborate Celtic crosses– including the tallest in Ireland. The cross pictured on the right tells the story of Adam and Eve. By the time we arrived the weather had turned grey, so the monastery was misty and dewey.

Afterwards we went to Hill of Slane, the site of a Christian abbey and what is thought to be an ancient pagan shrine. I loved this place because Ashleigh and I explored the crumbling towers. We climbed up tiny staircases that jutted out over empty air– and a sheer drop of at least a dozen feet if we had lost our footing! So we clung to the damp stone and scooted around spirals and when things got a little gnarly backed down and tried other staircases that also led to the roof. It was fun because it felt like we were on an adventure, like we were archaeologists exploring an ancient castle no one had seen in centuries.

Our last stop in the countryside was Hill of Tara. Tara was the ancient seat of power in Ireland for hundreds of kings, as well as the sacred place of dwelling for gods in ancient Irish religion. It was windy and drizzly, which added to the mystical mood of the mythologically and historically important site. I could see green rolling hills way in the distance, and tall golden grass swaying in the breeze– maybe it was just the weather, but I swear an aura of mystery permeated the place, as if I could sense its mystical roots.

There is a fairy tree on the hill, which of course I was excited about because I love fairies. The tree’s limbs are low and gnarled, and people tie ribbons and cloth and other items to the branches and leave them as gifts for the fairies. Ashleigh and I hadn’t brought anything, so we each tied a flower to the branches. Who knows, maybe I was closest to fairies then as I ever have been– myths have to come from somewhere, after all…