Introducing Our Trip to Ireland

Last night, Jason and I just returned from a 10-day tour of Ireland. (Ok, I need to throw in my 2 cents so I will, in blue text--Jason)

Why Ireland?

Well, Jason really wanted to go. He likes Irish music (love it), beer (ditto), and cool weather (an obsession). And, over the past 7 to 8 years, we've gathered up some goodly excuses for going: honeymoon for both of us (7 years later but, hey, who's counting), reward for earning a PhD (we both get credit for that one!), and Jason's achieving the age of 40! (I like how you use the word "achieving." Like I actually worked at it.)

We decided to go on a coach tour, which I am very glad we did. You see, I'm plum sick of planning things. I'm always telling my students when to do what and then there are the multiple family calendars to juggle. It sounded truly vacational to me to hop on a coach and just be driven everywhere (One should point out that, with the exception of a few people, the coach was a rolling rest-home. I kept expecting to have to perform CPR on someone before we were finished.)

Granted, hopping on a coach means that you can't exactly go local, but who gives a flip? (I did in parts). I know where I come from, and I have no desire to be anything but the the proud, American redneck that I am (no comment).

We chose CIE's Irish Legends Tour. This took us in a nice little loop around the lower half of the island, starting and finishing in Dublin (see map, lovie).

In the weeks prior to taking this trip, I had serious doubts as to whether or not we'd actually go (as did I). The biggest worry I had was that the new swine flu would shut everything down. Vice President Biden (gaffe machine) made a casual remark about how people ought to avoid airplanes about 10 days prior to our departure, and entire school districts were shutting down in places, etc. I worried that Mimi, Pop, and/or Uncle David (the (world class) babysitting crew, don't you know?) wouldn't want to fly under such conditions. I just didn't think it possible that I could take my very own, all-grown-up vacation.

Well, all that worked out didn't it? I didn't even end up cracking out my N-95 face mask on the aeroplane (She is NOT kidding. These were in our carry-ons along with 300 or so disinfecting wipes. I am surprised she did not pack some survival rations and a thermal blanket as well).

In later blog posts, I will be telling you all about the trip, and I'll likely follow a chronology similar to our basic sleeping pattern:

Nights 1 and 2: Dublin
Nights 3 and 4: Kilkenny
Nights 5 and 6: Killarney
Nights 7 and 8: Gallway
Nights 9 and 10: Dublin (again)

We road in a magnificent coach driven by Jim Lynch (pictured with the coach below). His people were a ruling clan in the West of Ireland centuries ago, although he is currently a Dubliner himself (Jim is an interesting character. Kinda like a grumpy government office worker meets chain-smoking Jack Kerouac after a few drinks.)

In my post on Gallway, perhaps I'll mention Lynch's Tower, which is now a bank.

Regarding travel to Ireland...

We left our house at 10 AM on Saturday, May 8, arriving an hour later at the airport. After some delay, we hopped our plane to Philadelphia. We hung out in the Philly airport for several hours. We walked a ton and I found a nice pair of jeans on sale at the Gap in the airport (Great, all the way to the Philly airport to shop at the Gap. Great start to the trip). Jason surfed the wireless, and our spirits were still high.

Then, around 8 PM or so, we boarded the next flight. I read my book Under the Banner of Heaven a bit (she has been reading me passages from this book for weeks that have given me nightmares), while Bride Wars played on the airplane movie set. What an amazing book for anyone interested in Mormonism (I think she improperly uses the word "interested." But, that would take a while to explain.)

(I resisted watching that film Bride Wars on the way to Ireland, but I watched it on the flight back. You see, one of my coachmates explained how into weddings she was. According to her, she would avoid studying for finals to go surf bridal websites and such...and she's not even engaged yet. Talking with her piqued my interest in the wedding subculture, and I even got Jason to watch the entire movie, much to his torment.) Ok, here I have to comment about this "film." This was one of the worst, most contrived pieces of shit I have ever been forced to sit through. After 10 days of being steeped in history that, in some instances, predates the pyramids and meeting locals and touring mind blowing sites, this movie was obscenely vapid. How they ever got such talented actresses to agree to do this hunk of crap is an utter mystery. Seriously, watching my dog do his business is more entertaining.

So, anyways, at about midnight, Jason and I tried to sleep. I was in the middle seat, and he was on the aisle. (A 25-year-old activist got the window seat, and slept at least 5 hours with that sweet, sweet wall to lean against!) We tried having me lie across his lap (my lap, not the cute little activist guy. Please mind your pronouns dear.) while he slept upright. In total, I clocked 30 minutes of sleep before my right side woke me up all kinked and throbbing (Yeah, it was really comfortable for me as well).

We stayed awake the long remainder of the flight. (It's a short flight, actually, at about 6 hours, but I've got to get my whine in here.)

So, we were off the plane in Dublin around 4 am Eastern Standard Time. But, of course, the morning was just commencing in Dublin.

That day in Dublin was one of zombie-wandering in an increasingly cloudy haze. I kept wondering when my body would let go of its desire to sleep, hoping some circadian rhythm magic would click on like it used to in college (Actually, I was quite wired with excitement. In a weird sort of way, it felt like coming home....strange).

As I will hopefully tell you in my next blog posting, we did a ton of touristy stuff on that day, starting with the area around Trinity College, moving west to Kilmainham Gaol, and then crossing over to the north side of the River Liffey to the O'Connell Street area.

View Larger Map

In my sleepy, unkempt state, and in my comfortable American mom pants (Ok, you opened the door on this one: Click Me), I wandered, and I felt a bit dowdy. Our hotel room wasn't available until late in the afternoon.

Exhausted, defenses down, I appeared as shown in the lefthand picture. The insecure middle schooler in me wanted to look as shown in the righthand picture (Ok, that is just frightening. Your giant head would constantly cause you to fight tipping over).


I didn't feel so bad in days that followed. I got sleep, got clean, and then I donned my Grandpa Bulger Major's brown sweater (I actually love this sweater. I goes great with the hat she bought in Ireland) and some comfy jeans, and off I went.

So, I wouldn't sweep Europe with my street sashay in stylin' duds...maybe next time. :)










Every few days, Jason and I would upload a bunch of pictures to his Facebook page. My mother-in-law expressed the desire to see me smile more. A smile really makes a difference to people, doesn't it? When I force a smile in pictures and then go and visit that picture later, I think Gosh, I look so happy. And the perceived happiness spreads like warm butter....

But sometimes I prefer not to smile because, well, I think because it can get a little fake. Do cows smile when you take their picture? Do bicycles smile? (why stop there, weirdo)

Or maybe we should just admit it now:

I'm a broody, smileless woman. :)