Recently I returned to Spain. It was a holiday but also a pilgrimage, a search for something not located in geographical space. I was tracking my parents' dream of Spain, of each other; my own dream of Spain as a place where we'd all been together.
Ever since I swam in the sea at Tel Aviv as a child, warm, lapping turquoise waters have beckoned. Never mind that I was born in New England and spent my summers on Cape Cod in the frigid and boisterous Atlantic Ocean.
'Ulysses' is often seen as a lofty thing, a piece of posturing high modernist literature, one with little relevance to the everyday. Others see it as a book about nothing at all. But these charges couldn't be further from the truth. As a Dubliner abroad, it's like meeting an old friend.