Please tell me how to explain to a 3-year old girl named Orla and her 5-year old sister Emma why it is 10 days after the day we were meant to arrive in Ireland and we are still not there? After all, Orla has a list of favorite places she wants to share with us and her Mom, Erin said her "friends from America" are coming to visit, so why aren't we there? Oh, I suppose you can show pictures of the Icelandic volcano spewing its ashes into the atmosphere. One can explain the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean; how we live in New York City and they live in County Kerry, Ireland. How we need to take a 6 1/2 hour flight from NYC to Shannon Airport and yes, good luck explaining how once in a million years, a volcano in between those two points acts exactly like a volcano is suppose to act, resulting in an airplane transportation fiasco. Heck, it's a hard concept for me to understand, mostly because I don't want to understand it if it means my vacation is now a non-vacation. Can't the airplanes just fly around this ash stuff?! That's me asking because I want to go to Ireland! Not because I haven't been before, not just to see the sights but because I promised. Plus I haven't seen my dear friend Erin and her family in years. I find as I get older I'm no longer comfortable postponing the get-togethers with people I love as much as I used to; after all, we are not guaranteed tomorrow so why not make the most of today? And I want to make the most of today in Ireland!!!! Waaaaaaaa...now who sounds like a petulant child? Me. I know. I admit it.
But as I sit on this side of the Atlantic watching my vacation diminish day by day, I start thinking about alternate, easy-to-get-to, unaffected by volcanic ash destinations. I ask Mom, "How about Utah? We've never been to Zion National Park or Bryce Canyon?" or "How about the Apostle Islands in Wisconsin? (Never mind that you can't get to those until later this May when ferry service resumes). I'm trying to rustle up some enthusiasm for this change in plans but I'm faking it. I do want to go some place relaxing, pretty and pastoral. I'm trying to find Ireland here in the United States. I am disappointed because I want to go to Ireland!! I want to go to the places on Orla's List. Granted, I later find out that list entails a playground that looks a lot like a Lego Land and some children's play spots in Killarney but still, I could try to fit my fat posterior down a slide! When in Ireland....
Ten days later than intended, flights are back to normal and Mom and I arrive at Shannon Airport courtesy of an Aer Lingus flight that had us flying through the night. We arrive to a lovely Irish morning at 7a.m.(2 a.m. for my fellow New Yorkers), the sun is shining ...we'll take it over foggy and damp and rainy any day. We decided that we would recuperate from our jet lag at the Bunratty Castle Hotel (yes, there truly is a castle with a folk park and the requisite tourist shops filled with items that one would think are Made in Ireland. Waterford crystal, for example. Check the label. "Made in Ireland" has now been replaced with "Made in Slovenia or Slovakia or somewhere like that". When the Irish in Irish Crystal has literally been outsourced to elsewhere it does make one wonder just what is the world coming to?)
Jet-lagged, we hit the sheets. One of the terrific elements of our hotel room are not only the linens (nice, white, soft, fluffy duvet comforters and lots of pillows) but the size of the beds. Two King-size ones which are rather uncommon for European accommodations. I've grown so accustomed to twin beds in Europe and the eventuality that I am going to roll over and end up on the floor because I forget there's not as much bed there as there is at home :) It's a great way to help get over the jet-lag phenomena so if you decide to stay at this hotel before exploring the rest of Ireland, ask for the Family Room. We decided to meet up with our friends tomorrow because a groggy me is no fun to anyone (my mother, of course, would argue that she is delightful regardless of sleep deprivation or jet lag. I am too tired to argue the point :)
Once Mom and I wake up, what comes next? We're hungry, of course. Off we stroll through the town of Bunratty. We settle in for lunch at the Creamery and make what we think is a healthy lunch choice. Now, we've been to Ireland before quite a few times but it is fair to say I had forgotten that which I should have remembered. Potatoes. Be they fried, mashed, pureed, boiled - they appear with every meal. But we think we have avoided the inevitable because we have ordered a combination vegetarian platter which assuredly will have some potatoes but it does say "combination"....so it will be more than potatoes, right?
After the waitress sets our platter down and leaves, Mom said, laughing, "We're going to die here". She said this because, in no particular order, what sits before us ....fried garlic bread, fried spring rolls, fried mushrooms, cole slaw with more mayonnaise than slaw and a leaf of lettuce with some shredded carrots ( that Mom and I are getting ready to draw straws for because it is the only healthy thing on the plate)...and lest I not forget the French-fried potatoes...it's all a heart attack waiting to happen. I now remember the Irish do seem to enjoy their fried foods. We are doomed :) "So much for healthy", I said as I try to pick the fried off the French fries and the batter off the mushrooms...
We figure if we're going to go we may as well go full-throttle so we order a piece of rhubarb pie with custard. Custard...hhhmmm...it's not custard like pudding and it's not custard like whipped cream. I don't know what this is. It looks like liquid corn starch. Check, please. I want to say at this point that the coffee was excellent. The Creamery restaurant has a lot of charm (and the steak special looked yummy but we just weren't feeling dinner quite yet) with a long old, oak bar where pints of ale looked like they have been pulled for centuries with assurance and a lot of old creamery/farm implements decorating the place. Also (and this is a first for me) there is a vending machine shaped like a giant gumball machine that dispenses canisters of Pringles Potato Chips. We are surrounded by potatoes! I told you. I'm not sure if we are meant to buy a canister before or after using the Ladies Rest Room but that's where the machine can be found...right outside the bathrooms.
We're still jet-lagged groggy but we decide to stumble around the town a bit more because we have to try to stay awake otherwise we'll be awake all night whilst the rest of the world is doing what they should be doing...sleeping.
"Hey Estelle. Come see what I discovered. I want to take some art shots out here", my Mom said. "Out here", is located at the back of our hotel, an old graveyard. I guess now is a good time to mention that graveyards? Not my first choice of places to hangout. I figure I'll get my turn eventually so why rush things? :) Mom, on the other hand, loves graveyards. She has even fallen asleep in Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn and was locked in, long after the gates had been closed and everyone left with the exception of a caretaker that was still in the crematorium. Ugh! Another story for another time. Anyway, I will say this. This graveyard with its tombstones of old Celtic crosses and wildflowers peeking out through the cracks of the ruins of the old stone church does have a certain beauty about it. I don't want to dwell too long on why those wildflowers look so healthy. Some of the stone markers are so old the dates are barely legible having been worn away by the elements and the passing of time. "Look, I think this one reads 1748", Mom said as we try to read the tombstones whilst playing a version of Hide and Seek amongst the church ruins. The cows lowing in the pasture beyond (at least, I hope that's what the noise is because other than Mom and I and the cows, we are the only one's capable of making noise in a graveyard, right?), the sun shining; I think we spent a good hour just absorbing the peace and the serenity. As soon as the sun started to suggest it was setting, I told Mom, "That's it for me. I don't want to meet any of the graveyard residents if they decide to pop up once the sun goes down. Can we go for a swim now?"
Oh, did I forget to mention the indoor pool at the hotel? The outdoor temperature is nowhere near swimming weather. But indoors is a different story. Indoors is a pool/jacuzzi/sauna with cascading waterfalls against a bamboo backdrop. A very Asian-inspired motif, actually, yet with a picture window facing the meadow outside with sheep and cows grazing. It's a surreal moment as I think the global community is truly getting smaller as Asian and Irish cultures collide around an indoor pool in Bunratty, Ireland.
Back from our swim, okay, Mom swam, I just made the jacuzzi my own, I changed clothes and flopped back down on that super-comfy bed. Looking out our window, I found myself pondering about a country that has a holiday dedicated to its patron saint, Saint Patrick and seems to celebrate by drinking copious amounts of ale.
"Just what did St. Patrick do, anyway?", I asked Mom. It's more of a rhetorical question on my part. I'm not really looking for an answer. Just rambling. We know he is the patron saint of Ireland as well as the patron saint of engineers and towns and schools (found that out later). "What about the other saints?", I asked.
"What about them?," Mom responded.
"Well, there's St. Christopher? He's the patron saint of?"
"Travellers". We both said.
"And then there's St. Joseph.", I said. "He's the patron saint of....children's aspirins, right?!" We can't stop laughing. I think I'm very funny. Maybe it's the jet lag. Sorry, St. Joseph.
Maybe it's time to get some more sleep. May as well start counting sheep. After all, how often can they be found right outside my window? ...and they are so cute. One sheep has a red spot on him, another has a blue spot. No, I am not hallucinating. This is the way one owner can discern his sheep from the other sheep because there are lots of sheep around. One sheep...two sheep.....zzzzzzzzzzz.
Next: Our adventures on the Dingle Pennisula, the Ring of Kerry, Bantry, Kenmare and a few places I still can't pronounce or spell :)
But as I sit on this side of the Atlantic watching my vacation diminish day by day, I start thinking about alternate, easy-to-get-to, unaffected by volcanic ash destinations. I ask Mom, "How about Utah? We've never been to Zion National Park or Bryce Canyon?" or "How about the Apostle Islands in Wisconsin? (Never mind that you can't get to those until later this May when ferry service resumes). I'm trying to rustle up some enthusiasm for this change in plans but I'm faking it. I do want to go some place relaxing, pretty and pastoral. I'm trying to find Ireland here in the United States. I am disappointed because I want to go to Ireland!! I want to go to the places on Orla's List. Granted, I later find out that list entails a playground that looks a lot like a Lego Land and some children's play spots in Killarney but still, I could try to fit my fat posterior down a slide! When in Ireland....
Ten days later than intended, flights are back to normal and Mom and I arrive at Shannon Airport courtesy of an Aer Lingus flight that had us flying through the night. We arrive to a lovely Irish morning at 7a.m.(2 a.m. for my fellow New Yorkers), the sun is shining ...we'll take it over foggy and damp and rainy any day. We decided that we would recuperate from our jet lag at the Bunratty Castle Hotel (yes, there truly is a castle with a folk park and the requisite tourist shops filled with items that one would think are Made in Ireland. Waterford crystal, for example. Check the label. "Made in Ireland" has now been replaced with "Made in Slovenia or Slovakia or somewhere like that". When the Irish in Irish Crystal has literally been outsourced to elsewhere it does make one wonder just what is the world coming to?)
Jet-lagged, we hit the sheets. One of the terrific elements of our hotel room are not only the linens (nice, white, soft, fluffy duvet comforters and lots of pillows) but the size of the beds. Two King-size ones which are rather uncommon for European accommodations. I've grown so accustomed to twin beds in Europe and the eventuality that I am going to roll over and end up on the floor because I forget there's not as much bed there as there is at home :) It's a great way to help get over the jet-lag phenomena so if you decide to stay at this hotel before exploring the rest of Ireland, ask for the Family Room. We decided to meet up with our friends tomorrow because a groggy me is no fun to anyone (my mother, of course, would argue that she is delightful regardless of sleep deprivation or jet lag. I am too tired to argue the point :)
Once Mom and I wake up, what comes next? We're hungry, of course. Off we stroll through the town of Bunratty. We settle in for lunch at the Creamery and make what we think is a healthy lunch choice. Now, we've been to Ireland before quite a few times but it is fair to say I had forgotten that which I should have remembered. Potatoes. Be they fried, mashed, pureed, boiled - they appear with every meal. But we think we have avoided the inevitable because we have ordered a combination vegetarian platter which assuredly will have some potatoes but it does say "combination"....so it will be more than potatoes, right?
After the waitress sets our platter down and leaves, Mom said, laughing, "We're going to die here". She said this because, in no particular order, what sits before us ....fried garlic bread, fried spring rolls, fried mushrooms, cole slaw with more mayonnaise than slaw and a leaf of lettuce with some shredded carrots ( that Mom and I are getting ready to draw straws for because it is the only healthy thing on the plate)...and lest I not forget the French-fried potatoes...it's all a heart attack waiting to happen. I now remember the Irish do seem to enjoy their fried foods. We are doomed :) "So much for healthy", I said as I try to pick the fried off the French fries and the batter off the mushrooms...
We figure if we're going to go we may as well go full-throttle so we order a piece of rhubarb pie with custard. Custard...hhhmmm...it's not custard like pudding and it's not custard like whipped cream. I don't know what this is. It looks like liquid corn starch. Check, please. I want to say at this point that the coffee was excellent. The Creamery restaurant has a lot of charm (and the steak special looked yummy but we just weren't feeling dinner quite yet) with a long old, oak bar where pints of ale looked like they have been pulled for centuries with assurance and a lot of old creamery/farm implements decorating the place. Also (and this is a first for me) there is a vending machine shaped like a giant gumball machine that dispenses canisters of Pringles Potato Chips. We are surrounded by potatoes! I told you. I'm not sure if we are meant to buy a canister before or after using the Ladies Rest Room but that's where the machine can be found...right outside the bathrooms.
We're still jet-lagged groggy but we decide to stumble around the town a bit more because we have to try to stay awake otherwise we'll be awake all night whilst the rest of the world is doing what they should be doing...sleeping.
"Hey Estelle. Come see what I discovered. I want to take some art shots out here", my Mom said. "Out here", is located at the back of our hotel, an old graveyard. I guess now is a good time to mention that graveyards? Not my first choice of places to hangout. I figure I'll get my turn eventually so why rush things? :) Mom, on the other hand, loves graveyards. She has even fallen asleep in Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn and was locked in, long after the gates had been closed and everyone left with the exception of a caretaker that was still in the crematorium. Ugh! Another story for another time. Anyway, I will say this. This graveyard with its tombstones of old Celtic crosses and wildflowers peeking out through the cracks of the ruins of the old stone church does have a certain beauty about it. I don't want to dwell too long on why those wildflowers look so healthy. Some of the stone markers are so old the dates are barely legible having been worn away by the elements and the passing of time. "Look, I think this one reads 1748", Mom said as we try to read the tombstones whilst playing a version of Hide and Seek amongst the church ruins. The cows lowing in the pasture beyond (at least, I hope that's what the noise is because other than Mom and I and the cows, we are the only one's capable of making noise in a graveyard, right?), the sun shining; I think we spent a good hour just absorbing the peace and the serenity. As soon as the sun started to suggest it was setting, I told Mom, "That's it for me. I don't want to meet any of the graveyard residents if they decide to pop up once the sun goes down. Can we go for a swim now?"
Oh, did I forget to mention the indoor pool at the hotel? The outdoor temperature is nowhere near swimming weather. But indoors is a different story. Indoors is a pool/jacuzzi/sauna with cascading waterfalls against a bamboo backdrop. A very Asian-inspired motif, actually, yet with a picture window facing the meadow outside with sheep and cows grazing. It's a surreal moment as I think the global community is truly getting smaller as Asian and Irish cultures collide around an indoor pool in Bunratty, Ireland.
Back from our swim, okay, Mom swam, I just made the jacuzzi my own, I changed clothes and flopped back down on that super-comfy bed. Looking out our window, I found myself pondering about a country that has a holiday dedicated to its patron saint, Saint Patrick and seems to celebrate by drinking copious amounts of ale.
"Just what did St. Patrick do, anyway?", I asked Mom. It's more of a rhetorical question on my part. I'm not really looking for an answer. Just rambling. We know he is the patron saint of Ireland as well as the patron saint of engineers and towns and schools (found that out later). "What about the other saints?", I asked.
"What about them?," Mom responded.
"Well, there's St. Christopher? He's the patron saint of?"
"Travellers". We both said.
"And then there's St. Joseph.", I said. "He's the patron saint of....children's aspirins, right?!" We can't stop laughing. I think I'm very funny. Maybe it's the jet lag. Sorry, St. Joseph.
Maybe it's time to get some more sleep. May as well start counting sheep. After all, how often can they be found right outside my window? ...and they are so cute. One sheep has a red spot on him, another has a blue spot. No, I am not hallucinating. This is the way one owner can discern his sheep from the other sheep because there are lots of sheep around. One sheep...two sheep.....zzzzzzzzzzz.
Next: Our adventures on the Dingle Pennisula, the Ring of Kerry, Bantry, Kenmare and a few places I still can't pronounce or spell :)
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