When the metallic rocks crush and scrape each other leaving your heart to tingle ; when the rough,fierce water splashes it’s waves leaving ripples;when the noisy horns of ships block your ears,then you know you are near the Aran Islands of the west coast of Ireland. We finally reached the place of mum’s childhood. She smiled happily as she smelt the revolting sense of fishes spreading onto our clothes. This was definitely not the place Â for spending Christmas. It was just too bad. There were rusty old boats with no colour at all. We only ate fish. Terrible, just terrible. Is this a dream,or nightmare?