The longest I've ever spent on Irish soil was an hour in an Athens-bound plane as it refueled at the Shannon International Airport, but the view from my tiny window was ethereal. The clouds were parting from a recent downpour, casting beams of sunlight among the vibrant green grass for as far as I could see. In the distance, little stone houses peppered the landscape, and I could just make out herds of cattle peacefully roaming open fields. During this brief pit stop, the crew played some upbeat Celtic music in the background as a soothing humidity from outside filled the cabin. The air had a delicious sweet scent of fresh cut grass and rain, begging me to stay just a while longer. My mood instantly lifted, and I felt almost like I was in a commercial for Ireland—the only thing missing from the scene was a glass of Irish cream on the rocks.