I've officially been in Ireland for 12 hours now. It's 9:44pm and if I didn't have a watch on and you asked me what time it was I wouldn't believe it was later than 5 or so. The entire day has been slow-paced and refreshing and oddly enough reminds me of home.
I woke up this morning at 3:15 to prepare for my trip to Ireland. I had everything in place, taxi, train, hotel, plane tickets etc. Everything planned well in advance so that things would go as smoothly as possible because...if you know me...I mean really know me...I don't do well when things stop going the way I expected them too. I got ready and went outside to meet my 4:00am cab at 3:50am. I had previously booked the cab and secured reservation with my credit card 2 days previously. So, when it was 4:05am and I hadn't seen my taxi yet I started to get a little antsy. I called the cab office and the polite lady told me she was still trying to locate a driver for my cab. 10 more minutes go by and still no cab...ok I am officially panicking because the train I am meeting leaves at 4:25am exactly. At 4:20am I just flagged down a random cabbie and managed to get a ride to the train station. The cab driver noticed my accent and immediately engaged me in conversation about the United States. He was an interesting guy. Immigrated to London from Ethiopia. He made sure to tell me he was a good Christian and what a safe place that Ethiopia was for foreigners. I guess I can understand his position. He was an man of Arab-African descent and I guess he assumed that I would think he was a secret terrorist or something. Anyways, I didn't take it personal. He made for decent conversation which eased my nerves a bit.
He dropped me off at the station at 4:26am. Just missed the train! Next train comes at 4:55 and has a 45 minute travel time. That gets me to the airport at 5:40 for an international flight which I am supposed to arrive 2 hours early for. Stress returned. When we got to the airport it was obvious that I was not the only passenger who was running behind. Nearly everyone who got off the train started running. I jogged along with the rest of them with bag and purse in hand. This is when I started to curse myself for my choice in wardrobe. I wore a pair of baggy jeans and didn't wear a belt. So every step I took had my pants working themselves off. So, I was sort of running...holding my bags...and holding my pants up with the other hand...along with my ticket and passport. I sure looked dumb! To top that off, my Adidas kept coming untied. So, flustered American girl running up the airport ramps with untied shoes and pants falling down. Interesting.
Somehow I made it quickly through the check-in process and proceeded to security. It was at this point that I learned that the plastic baggies were back by the entrance to the terminal and I had to do an about face, and run back to get the baggie to put my little bottles of shampoo and stuff inside, pants and shoes continuing not to cooperate as I rushed back across the terminal. After securing the baggie I entered the security area right behind a bachelorette party. Apparently they were on their way to Belgium and were all wearing goofy white tea shirts with a corny picture of the bride and groom on them except for one who was dressed like she was going to be opening up in Heidi on the West End. Again it was something to see.
I made it through security and ran the rest of the way through the terminal and YES I made it on the plane. I sat in the very last seat on the plane next to a chatty man named John. He was very nice and helpful and had a million questions about the states and about politics etc. It was quite interesting because this is NOT the way that a Londoner would have acted if I was sitting by them, they would never have uttered a single word to me, that's just the way London is. John was interesting and told me lots of anecdotal stories about Ireland and England and was interesting enough to talk to. Actually, he was so animated that several times I saw other folks on the plane looking over at us and listening to the conversation. At first I took the looks they were giving as being annoyed that maybe he was talking too loudly but while we were deplaning they engaged us in conversation and I could see that they were just curious.
When I arrived here I decided to rent a car. I figured this was probably the only chance I would ever have to drive on the wrong side of the road, so I did it. And I have to say, it's both easier and more difficult than I would have expected. Firstly, the car is a manual (n.p. I have driven a stick before), but it's different when you have to shift with your left hand versus your right. Then there is the adjusting to kph instead of mph. Signs that say 100 make it seem like you are going very fast indeed. Actually I would say anything over 35 in the little Ford Fiesta I am driving feels like you're in an Formula One car.
Anyways, I got in the car and just started driving south. I figured that if I just kept going eventually I would run into this place so that's what I did. No map just leave it to instinct. Luckily it wasn't that hard to find. Parking was really the only issue. Despite the fact that this is a small town, the hotel didn't have a parking lot and all the parking around here is metered. So I had to drive around for a while before I found a spot. For a minute I felt like I was in National Lampoon's European Vacation because I did end up driving around the same place 4 times. It wasn't a traffic circle, but I did circle the block.
Anyways, the afternoon was spent walking through the streets of Killarney. I took a picture or two of what I saw. Now that I have been in London for a while I am not quite a awestruck by the streets, but they're still cute nonetheless. I had a slice of strawberry spongy cake in a little desert restaurant and it was fabulous. I should have taken a photo of it. The way that the lady decorated the cake with strawberry and ambrosia syrup was really cute too. Later, taking the advice of my brother I went to the theater located across the street and watched an American Movie - Die Hard 4. I was really surprised by how many families there were in that movie with small kids. I think the action and violence is a little intense but these youngsters (I would say between 6-11 years old) were laughing appropriately at the jokes etc. It was really something. I am not sure what the rating is on the movie but I am sure it's at least PG-13.
Anyways, this blog wasn't the greatest. I will certainly have more to write later about this trip. So much happened today and I have been up far too long to write a cohesive blog. Tomorrow I am taking a 7 hour driving tour of the Ring of Kerry said to be one of the most impressive scenic drives in all of Ireland and perhaps the world. I hope to dazzle you with pictures of these places tomorrow.
Have a great night guys!
~Jenn
Photos:
My hotel and room:
The town of Killarney:
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