Bright and early the next morning, we loaded up the Mercedes and headed for London. Everything was going according to plan, that is, until we passed Boroughbridge where the M1, the highway we were on, forked into two roads — the A1(M) and the M1 London.  At this point, Paula nervously asked me which way to go.  Without looking at the map, I quickly said London.  It seemed logical since that’s where we wanted to go, right?  Wrong!  The M1 London actually heads toward Manchester, taking the long way around, before merging back with the A1(M).  I missed American highways where a sign for “Austin” means you’re going to Austin — not taking a side trip to San Antonio first!

Several hours (and numerous roundabouts) later, Paula proudly returned the Mercedes to Hertz in perfect condition.  As we left the rental car office, she let out a sigh of relief. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders.  She’d managed to drive on the left side of the road for two weeks and we’d survived — no going over a cliff like Thelma and Louise, no hitting a pedestrian or a horse or a sheep or a spicy kebab man (not that I know of), no accident of any sort, no heart attacks and no major arguments.  Miracles do happen.

Soon, we were on a courtesy shuttle bus headed for the airport.  The only thing that would have made the ride more courteous was if the driver had dropped us off at the right terminal.  After a mile of walking and dragging our luggage, we checked-in.

On our way back to the U.S., I reflected on our trip and what I’d learned.

1.  Paula and I are a bit like the odd couple.  She likes to plan … I go with the flow.  She spends over an hour getting ready in the morning, I’m done in half the time.  She kept her suitcase perfectly neat and tidy the entire trip … I did not.   As friends and travel companions, however, it works.

2.  When hauling 50-lbs. of luggage, hotels with elevators are better than walking up flights of stairs to reach the third floor of a B&B.

3.  Things in Ireland and England are just a wee (as the Irish would say) bit different from the U.S.  For example, their bacon is more like our Canadian bacon, their McDonald’s Egg McMuffin has no Canadian Bacon, their ham and cheese sandwich is served with the cheese on top of the bread, their road sign for “curves” is “bends” and on and on.

4.  The people are friendly, the architecture’s lovely and the food is really good.

5.  What was my favorite part of the trip?  Everything!

Until next time …

It took us half a day to drive from Bath (in the southwestern part of England) to York (in the northeast).  Most of the time was spent on major highways with Paula zipping in and out of traffic like a pro.  She’d even learned the key to using roundabouts — if you miss your exit the first time (or have no clue which way to go), just keep circling!

The only problem we had was when we reached the city and had to find our B&B, somewhere near the center of town.  For Paula, It’s never a good thing to actually enter the city and have to drive on narrow roads built by the Romans centuries ago.  The minute she realized we were downtown, her blood pressure rose … along with her tone of voice! This always made me nervous.

After a tense fifteen minutes, we emerged on the other side of the city and saw a bus station.  I told Paula to stop so I could ask for directions.  While she tried to calm down, I got out of the car and approached a nearby driver.  Too bad he didn’t speak English.  In a language that sounded like Italian (although how would I know since I only spoke English), he pointed me toward another bus where the driver proceeded to tell me how easy it was to find our B&B.  All we had to do was go back to the light, turn left, look for a church, turn right, go to another light, turn left, turn left at the next corner, turn right and then left again and we’d be there.  When I asked him to repeat the directions, he said, “Just follow the traffic.”  Paula, who was listening from the car, yelled, “What do you mean follow the traffic?  The traffic’s going everywhere!  We need to write it down.”  At that point, she handed me a piece of paper, and I asked him to repeat the instructions line by line.  He rattled them off three more times before I finally had it.

A few minutes later, we found the address.  The B&B was lovely.  The only negative was climbing the 55 stairs to the third floor.  The first forty steps were fine … it was the last fifteen that nearly killed us!  Even the owner, Chris, who helped with the luggage, had to stop on the second floor landing to catch his breath.  After settling in, we found the nearest pub where we spent the rest of the evening — eating, drinking, admiring the bartender and talking to our sweet Portuguese waitress.

The next morning, we headed out to explore York.  We’d chosen to visit this walled city, built by the Romans in 71 A.D., because of its rich history as well as to experience a different part of the country.  Our sightseeing began with a tour of York Minster, the largest Gothic cathedral in Northern Europe.

Next, we walked to a medieval section of the city known as “The Shambles,” a narrow cobblestone road dating back to the 14th century.  Historically, it was lined with butcher shops and homes.  Today, it’s one of the most popular tourist attractions in Europe with shops, restaurants and street performers.  We found it well worth the visit!

After shopping, it was time for refreshments.  We stopped at The Golden Fleece, which claims to be the most haunted pub in York.  I’m not exactly sure how they know it’s the “most haunted,” but I decided to simply take their word for it.  Luckily, we were there in the late afternoon and left before dark!

We spent our last evening in York at the pub we’d gone to the night before.  We were happy to see the same bartender and waitress working again, and they seemed pleased to see us as well.  While Paula admired the young bartender, I asked the Portuguese girl about her family.  After dinner and a few drinks, it was time to say goodbye.  We’d miss them.

Surprisingly, York turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip!  The people were friendly and down-to-earth, the architecture was amazing, the shopping district was charming and the pubs were welcoming and comfortable.  What more could we ask for? The answer: To stay longer.

Unfortunately, our European trip was coming to an end.  Tomorrow morning, we’d have to wake up at 6 a.m. and race back to London to catch a plane.  I’ll miss you, York!

The following morning, we set out to visit Blenheim Palace.  As usual, Paula was driving and I was the navigator.  Having already taken a couple of successful day trips, I was feeling confident and relaxed about finding our way.  That is, until I missed the turnoff for the M4, one of the largest highways in England, and instead of heading north toward the castle, we wound up south of Bath.  Although it wasn’t entirely my fault (the signs and roundabouts can be very confusing), Paula fired me immediately.  Of course, by the afternoon, I was rehired.  What else was she going to do?  She needed a navigator and I needed a ride!

A couple hours later, we reached Blenheim Palace, home of the Duke of Marlborough …

… and birthplace of Winston Churchill (in the bedroom shown below).

There was a section displaying information about Churchill’s career and some of his clothing, including a pair of slippers.

We saw one room after another ornately decorated in various colors.  There was the beige and gold room …

the red room …

and the green room.

I suppose it helps when you live in a palace to have different colored rooms.  That way, you don’t get lost.  There was also a massive library …

and a private chapel.

Outside was a lovely garden.

After the palace, we explored part of the Cotswolds — an area of rolling hills dotted with small villages.  The buildings are primarily built of stone and include historical sites, stately homes and thatched roof cottages.

Paula wanted to buy one, of course.  All in all, it was a great day!  Time for dinner and drinks.  Tomorrow, it’s off to York …

On our next day trip from Bath, we went to Glastonbury — a small town known for its myths, “New Age” community and famous Abbey Church, which according to legend was built to house the Holy Grail.

In 1191, monks claimed to have found the graves of King Arthur and Guinevere at Glastonbury Abbey.

I was struck by how peaceful it was there — the perfect place for a church.  Afterward, we strolled through the town.  In addition to all the beautiful flowers decorating the streets …

… we passed one mystic shop after another.  There was The Crystal Man, Cat & Cauldron (Paula’s favorite), StoneAge, The Goddess & The Green Man, The Magick Box, The Psychic Piglet and, last but not least, The Wonky Broomstick Shop.  What a fun way to spend the afternoon!

The next few days, using Bath as our home base, we visited all the major tourist attractions in the area.  First was Stonehenge.  Paula, who’d seen it during a previous trip, told me it used to be visible from the road — not any more.  Now, people have to park and either walk a mile through an open field where sheep are grazing (sheep graze practically everywhere in Ireland and England) or take a bus to the site.  We, along with most of the tourists, took the bus.  Once there, we were dropped off near a path which circles around the ruins.  For fifteen minutes, Paula and I walked around, gazing at the huge stones and taking pictures from different vantage points.

Then, it began to rain, and everyone headed for the buses.  We only spent a short time at Stonehenge, but it was well worth it to see a place I’d read about since childhood.  Another item off the bucket list!

On our way back to Bath, we took the winding scenic route.  We passed small villages, pastures, sheep, cattle, farmhouses, more sheep and cyclists.  There were even a couple of horses … in the middle of the road!

I love England!

We spent five nights in Bath — considered by many to be the most beautiful city in England.  Once there, it was easy to see why.  From the classic architecture to the fashionable shops to the well-dressed people, Bath (pronounced Baahth, like the “a” sound in car) exudes style and elegance.

On the first day, we explored the city center (centre in the U.K.).  While walking along the streets, I was struck by the number of real estate offices I saw.  There was one (sometimes two) on every block.  Why were there so many, I wondered.  Each time we’d pass one of these, Paula would stop to examine the listings taped to the windows.  Her dream was to own a home in Europe some day.  Unfortunately, the million dollar price tags In Bath didn’t quite fit into her budget at the moment.

Our sightseeing began with a visit to the Royal Crescent – a row of terraced houses built in the 1700’s for the rich and famous.

Then, we toured the Roman Baths.

Afterward, we had a relaxing dinner on the patio of the Roman Baths Kitchen, a restaurant across the street, where we watched as members of the Jane Austen festival made their way to a masquerade ball.

Some of them even posed for pictures.

We ended up sitting on the patio all evening, drinking prosecco and Bailey’s coffees, of course, and listening to musicians perform in the square.  As darkness fell, lights illuminated the Roman Baths and Abbey Church.  It was lovely.

The only thing missing was two Mr. Darcy’s.  Oh, well, you can’t have everything.

Yesterday morning, we drove from Galway back to Dublin and hopped a flight to London. At the airport, we rented a car.  The following is Paula’s story:

When we got off the plane at Heathrow, we walked about a mile and a half before we found the Hertz rental kiosk.  It was video only and soon I was talking to an Italian lady named Paola.  She reminded me that I was a Hertz “gold” member (I’d forgotten) but would have to go to the main rental station via shuttle to pick up my car. After watching three Enterprise shuttles stop and load up passengers, a Hertz shuttle finally came along; and after a 20-minute drive, the bus duly deposited us at the Hertz building.  With Linda diligently guarding our luggage, I went to the “gold” counter where you were supposed to be waited on immediately, but there were two obviously impatient businessman types in front of me.  One of the two computers was down and they were moving extremely slowly. I asked one of the two ladies if I should stay there, but she told me I had to go to the main Hertz counter in another building as I had booked my reservation through an auto booking site and not directly with Hertz.  I trooped over to the main counter and was waited on immediately.  I presume the two businessmen at the “gold” office were still fuming.  The young lady at the counter immediately asked how many bags we had.  I told her two big suitcases and two carry-ons.  She said we could not fit all the baggage we had in a compact rental, which I had rented for the low, low price of $391.00 per week.  I told her they would fit fine.  She insisted she could upgrade me to a much nicer, bigger vehicle using diesel (which saves on gas) for the low, low price of an extra 35 pounds per day (about $55.00 daily).  I said no, that was too expensive.  She then said the lowest she could go on that upgrade would be 30 pounds per day.  I said, no, thank you, we would be fine with a compact.  She insisted our baggage would not fit.  I looked at her and said we rented a rather beat-up compact Ford Fiesta in Ireland and drove all over the island with it and our baggage fit fine.  Next, she offered to upgrade me to a bit larger but nicer vehicle for an additional 15 pounds per day.  I said no thank you.  Finally, she gave up and asked me if I wanted additional personal injury insurance for the low, low price of 9 pounds per person per day.  I said no thank you, we would take our chances.  Then she inquired if we wanted emergency roadside assistance for an additional 3 pounds per day.  I turned that down as well.  I also turned down the fuel option, GPS, child seats and a free six-pack in the back seat.  Okay, I’m kidding about the six-pack.  By now, I’d aged appreciably and Linda’s hair was drooping.  Finally, she mumbled something under her breath, gave me the rental agreement and instructed me to bay 203.  We gathered all our luggage and slowly moved toward the bay.  Sitting in 203 was a virtually new Mercedes mini-SUV.  I said “Oh no,” left Linda guarding the luggage once more and went back to the rental counter.  My poor rental agent had disappeared, probably having been dropped through the floor into upgrade-failure hell.   I went up to another rental agent and told her we had rented a small compact and there was a Mercedes sitting in our spot.  She looked at me, her eyes literally bugging out of her face, said “OH NO!”, grabbed my paperwork and frantically begin making phone calls.  After a short time, she hung up, smiled a megawatt smile and said, “No, this is correct, you’ve gotten a free upgrade.  Isn’t that lovely?”  I felt like telling her I didn’t want a free upgrade to a Mercedes, that I was an American and with my limited driving skills, I wanted an old, compact car.  But by this time, I was five years older and Linda’s hair was falling out.

Linda’s comment:  No, it wasn’t.

Paula’s story continues:  We took the Mercedes.  Unfortunately, we spent another thirty minutes trying to figure out what all the buttons were.  We never could figure out how to turn on the satellite system it supposedly had.  The electronic transmission works off a switch on the steering wheel.  Since it’s a diesel, it dies whenever you stop, presumably to save gas. The minute you step on the accelerator, it starts up and goes again.  Coming into Bath, I thought I was doing fine until Linda yelled out.  By the time she did, it was far too late.  I grazed something (car, truck) with the passenger-side mirror.  We managed to park on the street in front of our B&B so, if necessary, I can claim someone else hit the mirror, even though we have full insurance coverage.  We’re not sure we’ll be driving it again anytime soon.  They have very good buses here.

The next day, and Paula’s story continues:  Linda’s getting quite tired of me at this point. Being as anal as I am, I find myself wandering along behind her, hanging up her towels and folding her washcloth.  I don’t think she can take much more.  But this morning, I was able to remind her that I am not perfect.  I found myself spritzing face mist on my hair and hair spray on my face.  My face is now frozen.  I think this is better than Botox and I might be on to something.  I told Linda if she will forgive my OCD ways, I’ll cut her in for a piece of the profits when I open my hair/face spray business.  I think it’ll be a hit.

After Dingle, we headed to Galway, stopping at the Cliffs of Moher along the way. The views were spectacular!

In order to save a little time, we took a ferry part of the way.

Once parked on the boat, the man in the jeep next to me leaned out his window and said, “Go see the matchmaker.”

“What?” I asked.  He had a heavy Irish accent, and I thought I must have misunderstood him.

“You and your friend should go to _____ and see the matchmaker.”

I looked at him in disbelief.  Why was a total stranger telling us to go see a matchmaker?

I explained what he’d said to Paula.  “He’s cute,” she said.  Of course, she’d be attracted to him.  He was pulling a horse trailer, and she was an animal fanatic!

A few minutes later, I grabbed our atlas and got out of the car.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t understand the name of the town.  Can you show me?”  I opened the map.

He smiled and pointed to a town called Lisdoonvarna.  “Ask for John _____.  He has a beard.  You’ll like him.”

It was definitely one of the most bizarre meetings of my life.

Thirty minutes later, we drove into Lisdoonvarna and saw a huge sign that read “Matchmaking Festival.”  Paula wanted to stop, hoping the man with the horse would be there.  Unfortunately, we were on a time crunch and needed to check into our B&B before dark so we kept going.  Hopefully, we didn’t make a mistake and miss out on an Irish Prince Charming … or two!

The following day, we explored Galway — a beautiful college town with a lovely shopping district, …

… including a small medieval section, and …

… a river filled with ducks and swans.

The best part of our time in Galway, besides the scenery and a nice dinner at the Park Hotel, where we had the best Bailey’s coffees in Ireland, was the shopping.  It was here that I bought myself a silver Claddaugh ring and several gifts for family and friends.

The worst part of our stay was stubbing my toe on Paula’s steel (actually hard plastic) suitcase on the morning we left to catch a plane for London.  By the afternoon, it had swollen to twice it’s normal size and was extremely painful.  With me limping through the airport, we managed to drop off our rental car and make the flight.

Next stop … Bath, England.

While in Cork, we decided to take a day trip to Kinsale, a seaside village known as the gourmet capital of Ireland.  Having had trouble finding our hotel the day before, we went to the front desk and asked the clerk for directions.  She handed us a typed page, explaining that the Irish often use landmarks (turn right at the statue, turn left at the river, etc.) rather than street signs.  The paper listed directions for three major tourist destinations — Blarney, Kinsale and Cobh.

Feeling confident and prepared, we headed out.  As Paula drove, I navigated once again, carefully reading off the instructions line by line.  Everything was going great until I realized I was looking at the wrong part of the page, and we were heading to Blarney instead of Kinsale.  It was now obvious to both of us that my navigating skills needed work.

Eventually, with the help of directions from several friendly locals, we found the right road and made it to the small coastal town.  As we wandered the streets (there aren’t many of them) we saw a number of restaurants and shops with cute names like Fishy, Fishy …

Poet’s Corner …

and Granny’s Bottom Drawer.

A few hours later, after a relaxing lunch and stopping at the Tourist Information Center for a detailed map, we returned to the hotel.

Although Kinsale was nice, the best part of our trip to Cork was staying at the Ambassador Hotel and Health Club.  The room was large and comfortable, the food was excellent (the brownie and ice cream dessert was grand!) and the restaurant hostess, Hazel, did a fantastic job of making us (and everyone else) feel welcome. We gave it four stars!

Next stop … Dingle.