Cork, Ireland

The next morning, we took a taxi from our hotel back to the Dublin airport, where we picked up a silver Ford Fiesta at Dooley’s car rental and carefully checked it for scratches.  For ten minutes, we pointed out every speck we could find to the poor agent who finally wrote “marks everywhere” in capital letters across the paperwork and happily sent us on our way.  We were halfway to Cork before we noticed there were 151,000 km on the odometer and a bright red warning light on the dashboard. I looked in the glove box for the owner’s manual.  It was empty.  When I told Paula, she just smiled and said, “It’s all part of the adventure.”

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Soon, we stopped at the Rock of Cashel in Tipperary County.  Originally, the home of the kings of Munster, it was developed into a major Christian center in the early 12th century.

The Rock of Cashel

What remains of the Rock of Cashel Cathedral

After touring the ruins, we drove on through the countryside.

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Tipperary countryside

Fields of Tipperary 

Paula, who’d driven on the left side of the road on a previous trip to Europe, was behind the wheel.  My job was to navigate.  Taking my duties seriously, I’d written down the directions from Dublin to Cork the night before.  The hotel, which was supposed to be conveniently located as we entered the city, should have been easy to find — that is, if there were street signs.  Unfortunately, there weren’t.

The closer we came to the city center, the more I noticed Paula’s mood begin to change. By the time we reached downtown Cork, she’d gone from cheerful and calm to glaring at me and cursing at the other drivers.  The narrow one-way streets, pedestrians jumping out in front of us and cars stopping in the middle of the road were too much for her.  She started to freak out!  “Call the hotel and find out how to get there!” she yelled.  “I would, but I have no idea where to tell them we are,” I replied.

Spotting two men standing in front of a spicy kebab shop (I know it sounds strange, but it’s true), I told her to stop while I rolled down my window and asked for directions.  “Excuse me.  Do you know where the Ambassador Hotel is?”  One of them approached the car and replied, “No, but there’s a place down the street where you can stay.”  Just then, a truck began honking his horn behind us.  Paula, now at the end of her rope, screamed, “I’ve got to get out of here!”  The car jerked forward as she hit the gas (almost running over the spicy kebab man) and turned the corner up a steep hill.  Once at the top, we saw a sign pointing to our hotel.  At the same time, the red light on the dashboard went off.  It was a miracle!

We spent the rest of the evening in the hotel restaurant and bar, thankful to be alive and convinced someone up above was watching out for us.

Dublin, Ireland

We flew out of Houston on a Sunday night.  Fourteen hours later, on Monday afternoon, we arrived in Dublin.  Exhausted, but happy to be there, we checked into our hotel.  After freshening up (not easy after being awake for almost 24 hours), we headed for the nearest pub.  Fortunately, it was only an elevator ride away.  We spent the rest of the day in the hotel lobby at a table near the window — eating, drinking, people-watching, browsing through brochures and trying to stay awake. The highlight of our evening?  Ordering Bailey’s coffees, one of our favorite drinks, in Ireland!

The next morning, refreshed and ready to explore the city, we started our Dublin adventure with a trip to the local Starbucks.  It was only a few steps from the hotel and looked exactly the same as in the U.S.  The only difference?  Paula had to skip her usual Cinnamon Dolce Latte (they’d never heard of it) and settle for a Caramel Machiatto instead.  She didn’t care.  “It’s all good.  We’re in Ireland,” she said.

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A short time later, we stopped at the tourist office and bought a hop on/hop off bus ticket.  The double-decker bus was full of tourists, which was obvious from all the foreign accents we heard — mainly English (American and British) and German. Everywhere we looked, there were reminders of home — McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Subway, Burger King, KFC and Papa John’s — which although comforting also seemed a bit strange.

It didn’t take long for us to notice how friendly the Irish people were.  A prime example was our bus driver, John, who spent thirty minutes pointing out sites and telling jokes like the following:

A chicken goes into a library, walks up to the desk and says to the librarian, in a typical chicken voice, “Book (bock), book, book, book, book.”  The librarian looks at him for a moment, puts a book under the chicken’s wing and he walks out. Ten minutes later, the chicken comes back, returns the book and says, “Book, book, book, book, book.”  She places another book under his wing, and he leaves again. Five minutes pass, the chicken returns with the second book and says, “Book, book, book, book, book.”  The librarian gives him another book and follows him outside, curious as to what’s going on.  She watches the chicken walk into the park and sit down under a tree next to a waiting frog.  The chicken hands the book to the frog, who opens it, looks at a few pages and hands it back to the chicken, saying, “Read it, read it, read it.”

We spent the first three days of our trip to Ireland in Dublin.  During that time, we visited the Guiness Brewery …

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Pouring us a couple of pints.

… Trinity College, the oldest university in the country, and the old Kilmainham Gaol (jail), which housed political prisoners during Ireland’s fight for independence.

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Kilmainham Gaol

We ate an amazing dinner at The Church, a restaurant and bar located in a beautiful 18th century building which was the former St. Mary’s Church of Ireland.  We also shopped, walked along the River Liffey and spent our evenings relaxing at the historic Oval Pub and listening to Irish music at the hotel bar, where we were entertained by fiddlers and river dancers.

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River Dancers!

Although we enjoyed our stay in Dublin, it was time to see the rest of the country. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up our rental car and drive (on the wrong side of the road) to Cork.  Let’s hope we don’t make the evening news — American women cause thirty car pile up!

Europe Here We Come!

The big day is finally here!  Only four hours until we leave for the airport, and my bags are packed.

My suitcase ... full!

My suitcases … full!

Paula, on the other hand, is running a little behind.

Paula's suitcase ... empty!

Paula’s suitcases … empty!


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I pour myself a glass of wine, watch some House Hunters International and wait. Three hours later, she’s finished … except for the stowaway.

Simon, the cat, wants to go.

Simon, the cat.

Europe here we come!