To quote a book from Karen Marie Moning: 

I've fallen in love with a country. 

Although in all reality, it's countries. Ireland and Scotland. I went to Ireland last summer, after years of fascination and obsession with Ireland and the Celtic people, and fell in love with it. We [Me and my sister, Christina] didn't head to Dublin, like many tourists [And I strive, whenever I travel, to be as untouristy as possible] , but instead to a little town on the otherside of Ireland near Galway called Enis. 

Enis is this beautiful little town that's nestled against a river and has just about as much authenticity as a lion in a safari. It's also a very cultural town, only an hour from Doolin, which I'll get to in a minute. There was this resturant in the town called Brogan's, and they had the best lamb! We went back there three or four times during our eight day stay. We'd get up in the morning, have breakfast in the bed n' breakfast and tote around the place. [We ended up exploring this off-the-map-on-a-hill-across-a-lake monestary from Viking times] Then, we'd head into town and eat lunch at a little cafe called O'Briens. 

As much as I love America.... *cough/cough* I love Ireland more....lots more..

It's people.
It's land.
It's history.
It's culture....

And here I am writing all of this, thinking, does anybody understand? Does loving a country so much make me unable to love a guy? I don't know....but my track record with boyfriends has been bad, lightly speaking...Who knows. Maybe I'm thinking too much on this....?