My Visit to the Cliffs of Moher

Standing mere feet away from the precipice of an enormous cliff, I took a deep breath of the salty, Irish air to remind myself that my feet were still planted in the dirt. I'm not one for heights, but the sight of the Cliffs of Moher is one that has been burned into my memory.

My first trip to Ireland was underway. I had been enrolled at University College London and my roommate and I decided to take advantage of the outrageously cheap flights around Europe. The day after landing in Dublin, we took a morning tour bus that drove from the city center to Western Ireland to see the famous Cliffs of Moher; I had been familiar with them due to my Harry Potter knowledge (they were used in the sixth film when Harry and Dumbledore go to find R.A.B.'s locket). But not even the film could prepare me for the grandeur of the scene these Cliffs offered.

Tightening my scarf around my exposed neck from the harsh, cold wind, I walked with my roommate over to the trail where visitors could pose without the threat of falling hundreds of feet into icy Atlantic waters (although, there were a handful of tourists who stood near the grassy edge for the holy grail of Instagram pics). Feeling the wind continue to slap my face, as if to tell me to back away from this treasure of nature, I followed my roommate to the edge. Couples and families passed us, awing at the sight around us and continuing to remind their children to stay close. Once near the barriers lining the cliff side, I took in the scene: all encompassing glory.

Me taking in the awe-inspiring scenery. It was also windy as hell.

I felt as if I was looking into a screen, a clever hologram meant to trick visitors into thinking that this kind of beauty was available in the digital realm. I couldn't feel the wind anymore; all I felt was a buzz electrifying my body. Here I was, an average human, standing at the edge of the world. The grassy land around me blew along with the winds from the sea, and the rocky terrain leading down to the water below looked to be etched with time. Jagged rocks were intertwined with patches of green grass, as if the Cliffs were attempting to leap into the ocean itself. The sea was eerily blue; not what I expected from Irish waters. Let alone on a chillingly cold winter's day. Clouds above us created the perfect light to take in the grass, dirt, and small castle set against the backdrop of Irish history. I had stepped back in time, all the while tourists held out their iPhones to get the perfect shot; an odd dichotomy of past and present, ferocious nature and technological novelty.

At the edge of the world (note the small castle in the distance; very casual).

I don't know why this specific instance made me feel so aware of my mortality. It could have been the fact that I was mere feet from the edge of a cliff, but I had been high up before: on mountainsides, up on the Arc de Triomphe, on top of the Empire State Building—but none of these experiences could match up. Something about the Cliffs of Moher—far away in Ireland, in a land that was not my home—standing in the dirt that had would possibly be off into the sea below one day, made me think about how lucky I was to be here, right now, breathing, acknowledging my existence in this timeless space. I left the cliff side with a greater respect for nature, for Irish history, and for my contribution to the world.

If you ever plan a visit to Ireland, countless historical points of interest are available to you. From the bustling and charming city of Dublin, to Northern Ireland where you can picture Emilia Clarke rehearsing her lines while donning a silver-blonde wig; and the stunning countryside with sprawling green fields that continue on for eternity. But to me, the greatest vision I have ever seen was standing at the edge of Ireland, overlooking the torrent sea and taking in the immensity of the empty space before me. It was a comforting reminder that I don't have much time here on earth, and I need to remember my place in it. To some, that may seem morbid; to be reminded of our mortality can be an unnerving thought. But when you are faced with the grandeur of nature that has been here long before we were even a thought, you are humbled. We may not be as permanent as the Cliffs of Moher, but we can share in its brilliance with our feet planted firmly in the dirt.