Our hostess welcomed us with a lovely Irish greeting, a loaf of Irish soda bread, and some butter that actually looked like butter and only had one ingredient: butter. My body had no earthly idea whether it was the right time to eat or not, but neither I nor my taste buds cared in the least.
We spent some time chatting at the dining room table, getting to know each other’s nuttiness, while I consumed copious amounts of Irish soda bread and tried not to fall asleep in my plate. Joanna looked fresh as a daisy. I don’t know how she did it. She flew the same overseas trip. Yet, she looked like she woke up in Ireland that morning and I looked like I hadn’t slept in just under three weeks.
Our hostess had planned for us to have our own rooms, which was a generous sacrifice on her part, since it meant she had to sleep on the couch. She will reap an eternal reward for that gift. So, after we had chatted enough to determine that we were all relatively harmless in our nuttiness, Joanna and I got settled in our rooms.
For those who have travelled internationally, you know that life revolves around The Adapter. Back in the old days, The Adapter was simple. It was a little hunk of plastic and metal that converted their three prongs to your two prongs and you could plug in your hair dryer or electric razor or whatever. (Assuming, of course, that you were savvy enough to make sure that the said hair dryer or electric razor did the voltage conversion internally. Or, you could learn about voltages the hard way by burning up your cell phone like I did.) If you really got fancy, you brought a four plug hub and plugged THAT into The Adapter and then you had a plethora of plugs and a house fire waiting to happen. Life was simple. But those days are long gone. Now The Adapter is the size of a brick, takes up half of your suitcase, and runs on jet engine fuel. By the time you are done plugging everything in, it looks like a mutated Christmas tree, bristling all over with electronic gadgets. But at least you don’t have to pack a nightlight.
The plan was to stay two nights in Dublin so that we could get over the jet lag before heading out on our cross-country road trip. An American tourist driving in Ireland is bad enough. A jet lagged American tourist driving in Ireland would be like a cross between The Three Stooges and Mr. Bean. Not pretty.
Our first night passed uneventfully. In fact, it was so quiet and peaceful that sleep itself thought it inappropriate to intrude. There is nothing quite like the irony of a sleep-deprived drunkenness when you are awake and a stark, staring awakeness when you want to sleep. When I dragged myself out of bed the next morning in a stupor, Joanna greeted me with a cheery “good morning!” Whatever that girl is on, I want some. A few Cokes later I was in a semi-conscious state and we headed out for our walking tour of Dublin.
Have you ever noticed that it is simply impossible NOT to look the wrong way when you are crossing the street in Ireland or the UK? So, they have little signs and arrows pointing to the RIGHT. LOOK TO THE RIGHT. Ok, fine. You look to the right. But you just HAVE to look to the left too, even if it is just a furtive glance over your shoulder. You start to feel guilty about it. Someone is surely going to pop up and give you a fine for doing it wrong: “Can’t you just trust us?!” Nope. You just can’t help yourself. If I had stayed any longer I would have had to join a recovery program for Those Who Look the Wrong Way.
According to Joanna, we wandered through quite a good bit of Dublin. I don’t remember most of it, being only semi-conscious and constantly looking over my shoulder for the street crossing man to come and take me away. I do remember our visit to Trinity College. I could easily while away the hours in the long room of the library, soaking in the beauty of the centuries old wooden architecture and rich heritage of literature. It even had the childhood dream of every library lover – wooden ladders to reach the higher book shelves. Just being in there made me feel smarter. If I stayed long enough, I might actually read something.
One other thing I remember. We walked. A lot. It was slowly dawning on me that I could be in for quite an adventure with this new friend of mine. But we definitely achieved one goal. I got some sleep that night!
Megan, you made my day. My wake up laughter caused by you!
I will join your ‘looking the wrong way’ program if I’m not run over first. In Switzerland they don’t have those signs, or if they do, I was too busy panicking to notice them, much less obey.
But it would be worth it just to go back.
Enjoy Ireland! Blessing you with everything that God designed land has to nurture you from top to bottom!
Yes, I have noticed that they only have the signs in nations where they drive on the left. I guess they assume that all those who drive on the left and have to adjust to driving on the right are smarter tourists than the rest of us. 😉
Love reading your adventure Megan, you describe it in such a way that I feel like I’m there too!