A Starry Day in Howth

By:  Rachel Orenstein

Tuesday, May 2nd, 2023

This sleepy fishing village nestled beneath rocky cliffs is picturesquely Irish. Green hills surround the sea-level plaza across a crescent-shaped marina with strung-up fisheries. The Irish Sea is in the air, the dirt, the people themselves.

The town square is filled with tents for vendors. One man sells rings in a market stall. Bald but broad-built, he asks:

“What brings you to Howth?” 

“Howth,” you echo. “Is that how it’s pronounced?”

He gives an Irish smile - or maybe it is only that of a salesman - and says, “I give you my oath.”

You leave newly armed with a silver ring of stars. A good luck charm, you think, for your eventual hike along the cliff walk. You absently wonder whether they can see the stars here, so close to Dublin but so nearer to the sea.

Colorful fishing boats bob in the harbor. Water laps at their sides. You sit on an old rock wall under the soft midday sun, listening to chatter and buskers in the park around you.They sing Irish and American songs alike, though their accents make each one sound uniquely Gaelic.

Since it is midday, you quietly eat fish and chips from the popular franchise nearby (Beshoff Bros.). What better place for fish than at this small fishing village, sitting in front of the harbor? You breathe matching, salty air with each bite. A seal floats around the nearest dock, waiting for fish scraps from the small yellow sailboat that just came in. She gives a show in the meantime: twirling, bobbing, floating on her back. All while focused on the starboard side. Someone jokes she should be paid for such a performance.

On the surrounding high-rise cliffs rest bright mansions that mirror the fluffy, white clouds of this surprisingly sunny day. Great gusts of wind soar over these cliffs and onto the sea, passing right over the small town center where the salty scent of the sea lingers in a bubble. 

There is a lighthouse at the end of a pier and you make your way toward it, strolling down the cement jetty. It seems a communal spot: friend groups sit around with coffees, a family teaches their daughter how to ride a bike (she rattles along with training wheels), an elderly man reads the paper on a bench. They must know each other so well, living along the seaside village. You reach the lighthouse and look back at the town: so small, so bright, so friendly. So Irish.