Ireland - Day 1 (Thursday 3/30/2006)

The following were written daily, during my vacation in Ireland, hence some of the odd tenses and wording.

Today was the day to drop off my keys, ship out one last box back to the States, gas up the car, and say goodbye to England forever. Well, for awhile, at least. Unfortunately, for some odd reason, BOTH my credit card and my bank card were denied when I tried to buy a new laptop on the internet, and they were further denied when I tried to ship my box home later, forcing me to forego the computer and pay cash for the shipping. Luckily I had the cash on hand. I didn't give it a further thought, for my plan was to drive east to Gatwick Airport, outside London, and catch a flight to Dublin Ireland, returning my car along the way.

Well, I stuck to the plan admirably, only making a few wrong turns, before dropping off my car and getting a ride to the airport. The car checked out fine, and I checked in (at the airport) fine as well, albeit a few hours early. Nothing left to do but grab a pint and some food and eventually make my way down to the terminal.
The bar food was adequate, as most bar food was, and security didn't pose much of a problem for me (as it sometimes does for some odd reason), but getting on the flight, or even to the proper terminal, was. It seems my flight, scheduled for 1645, was delayed until...1645. How's that work? I don't know. Apparently the airline employees didn't know either. Nor did they know which terminal the flight would be leaving from. It wasn't until 1650 or so that I heard, "Last call for flight such-and-such. Last call." When was first call? Well, regardless, I made the flight and began my journey to Ireland, fully prepared for 16 days of the best the luck of the Irish could deliver.

Well, apparently the luck of the Irish was lacking. After I got off the plane I couldn't find my car (even though it was a Murray's Europcar). And after I found my car I couldn't find someone that spoke good enough English (no, they didn't speak Gaelic either) to help me into town to find my hotel. Nor could I get my cell phone, recently topped up, to work either. NOT a good start.

Finally, when I thought I had a good idea of where I was going, what do I hit but traffic. Tons of traffic. Not a big deal; just relax. It's a good thing I'm used to this type of driving, though the markings in kilometers take some getting used to.

Once in town, things don't look up. There's no place to park when I finally find the street with my "hotel" on it, so I circle the block several times before giving up and parking somewhat illegally. Still, I'm not worried, and the "concierge" at the "hotel" is again, through a thick Indian accent, able to direct me to a parking garage a half-mile away. I put those things in quotes because the "concierge" was nothing more than a barely-speaking student and the "hotel" was barely more than a townhouse. Still, not a big deal. I make my way to the parking garage, but it's full. Fully flustered at this point I find a parking spot on the Quay (River) road and unload my gear.

Next up: time to score some Euros at the ATM. Unfortunately the first ATM, located in a Spar (like a 7-11), is packed, so I head to the other one nearby, which declines my bank card. So I head back to the Spar, where my card is, again, declined. Now I recently sold my house, and made a tidy profit on the deal, so why can I not get to my money? Now THAT's annoying. Luckily I'm able to use my credit card to purchase a calling card to call the US number (as there is no overseas number) on the back of my bank card. Then it's back to the "hotel" to square that away.

About an hour later, after figuring everything out, I'm on my way to my first Dublin pub, money in my pocket, and a thirst in my throat for some fine Guinness Stout. Hopefully that will cure what ails me. Considering I landed at around 6 PM and it's now almost 10 PM, it may take more than one of those fine, Irish pints. I hope the rest of my vacation isn't as bad as this. I mean, it couldn't get any worse could it? Don't answer that.

So the pub is packed, the music is good, and the Guinness is LOVELY. Another good thing: no indoor smoking in ALL of the Republic of Ireland. How nice! I only hope my car doesn't get clamped or, worse yet, towed; I'll make sure I get up early to prevent that. But I put those thoughts behind me and begin to take some notes on my travels, for use later to write this. So, there I am, Guinness in one hand, pen in the other, writing down my trials and tribulations, when I notice a lot of people drinking Heineken and Coors Light, with others drinking Miller and Bud. What the F*ck? Nooooo clue on that one.

Things are looking up. Beer in the hand, music in background, when suddenly that music betrays me: REM comes on. Drown it out, Murray. Ignore it. Michael Stipes couldn't REALLY be the Devil, could he? Yes...he...could. But they quickly follow it up with "Linger" so I'm quickly feeling better.

I'm suddenly chatting with two blokes, Denis and Ciaran, who think I look like the guitarist from Genesis. I mean, who these days even knows that Genesis EXISTED let alone what the members looked like (aside from Phil Collins, of course)? I'll have to look that one up. But the guys are fun to chat with, including the talks about politics (Katie would have a FIT with these two), and I'm happy to hear that Ciaran is soon to have a baby. Well, his wife is anyway.

I've had a Guinness, a Murphy's, and a Bulmer's Cider, the bar calls last call and it's time to go. What better way to celebrate last call than by heading across the street to the late-night club and carry on with these two? Too bad we can't get in. Seems the two are a bit too drunk to get in and the bouncers are a bit too foreign to hear any different. At least they are until I vouch for them. Seems some people still like us Americans after all, despite all our fabled President has done to soil that for us.

Well, before I know it, Ciaran's gone, and Denis and I are having 3 AM hot dogs on O' Connell street. My how time flies. By 4 AM I've completely forgotten about the previous days troubles and worries. It certainly helps that, as I stumble back to the "hotel," my car is still there. Lovely. I promise myself that tomorrow (well, today, actually) I'll take more photos than the four I took today (well, three yesterday, and one, um, today). Enough. See you tomorrow. Well, today, actually...