Irish Cooking can also be found at The Petit Chef.
When we got off the plane in Shannon, I handed our passports to the agent. He just waved us on to the customs agent. When he heard I was with my two children, he too let us pass without opening a single suitcase. We must have been innocent looking. Thus I got all the Fourth of July fireworks into the country so we could celebrate our day of independence like true Americans even if we were on foreign soil. It had been quite easy finding our luggage thanks to my dad's travel hint. He had placed wide, bright, shiny green tape on each handle of our luggage. It wasn't the classiest, but it certainly was easy to find when you had twelve suitcases to locate. I went to the Bank of Ireland at the airport to exchange some money for traveling expenses--something one should never do since the airport exchange is usually horrendous. I was to find that in the mid-eighties many, if not all non-tourist areas of Ireland, did not accept American Express traveler's checks or credit cards so I often needed Irish money. And that was the Ireland I wanted to experience.
When we arrived at the terminal, I plopped Erin and Eli down with the luggage and proceeded to look for a CIE bus window, and there it was! I walked over and asked to buy tickets to Trim. The clerk said that I could buy tickets to Dublin leaving in 15 minutes and then get a 5:45 or 6 PM bus to Trim. She said £15 so I handed her £45 thinking it was £15 per person to cross Ireland on a bus. She laughed and said it was only £5 per person for a total of £15 [$15 in the 1984 exchange] for the three of us. I was ecstatic thinking this country was going to be very affordable. Today none of this would be a surprise because most travel information can be found on the internet before one even leaves the US--not so in 1984. It really was an adventure which translates into more nerve wracking!!
We put all the luggage on to two carts, and as we made our way to the bus, Erin and Eli had their first fight on Irish soil. Eli had accidentally knocked the cart he was pushing into his sister’s heel and that started World War III. And it was absolutely pouring out. Welcome to Ireland I thought. When we found our bus, the driver loaded all our bags and off we went. We sat in front, and Erin and Eli slept most of the trip. Eli especially was pooped! He was so-o-o cute. His head kept bobbing to the beat of the bus. And really went crazy whenever we hit a bump, which was quite often on those Irish country roads. The man behind me was very nice and so was the bus driver. I kept thinking so far so good and concentrated on the next step of the journey. And that would be my mindset for the next 12 months every time we took a trip. I was always mindful of the next phase that I needed to be ready for.
The man gave me his newspaper to read. There was an article about divorce, birth control, and abortion coming slowly but surely to this Catholic country. The same man also appointed himself my tour guide pointing out all the interesting sights along the route like the horse tracks. It was fun to see all the little Irish villages--I was to discover that all Irish towns looked the same with the stone façade often whitewashed. And all the pubs. It was true about every Irish village having an almost endless number of pubs--the first building going in to town and the last building going out were usually pubs.
I was amazed at how fast the cars sped on those narrow, curved roads. The pedestrians sometimes literally had to jump into the bushes to avoid being hit. I remember thinking why there weren’t more traffic deaths in this country. I started to laugh because it was a funny sight, but it wasn’t so funny later when I was the one jumping out of the way of an oncoming car. I did find out that pedestrians killed on the roads was the number one cause of death in Ireland--more than by bombs in the North. Of all European countries, Ireland had the highest number of pedestrian deaths. I was imagining my demise on a moonless spring night walking home from a pub singing an Irish tune when I’m squashed by a speeding Volvo!
I noticed some of the Irish cottages I had envisioned--the one-story, white stucco cottage with thatched roof. Mid day we stopped at a restaurant for “tea and biscuits and spirits” as the driver yelled out. An elderly man from the bus came into the ladies room, and Erin was hysterical with laughter and embarrassment. Erin and Eli thought the pub was funny; I thought it was charming and wonderful. It reminded me of the downstairs bar at Beardslee Manor [now called Beardslee Castle] in Little Falls, NY--all stone and dark. I started looking for any Irish ghosts. We were not hungry so just had drinks.
We arrived in Dublin at the Central Bus Station called Busáras at 3:35 in mid-afternoon. Jimmy, a Busáras employee, finished getting our bags as the bus was about to pull away. Erin was alert and noticed many of our bags were missing. He found them all and was very nice apologizing profusely. He did not want them put in the wet so got a cart and loaded them all. When he heard we wanted to leave them while we toured Dublin and grab some dinner before the bus to Trim, he said it would be £6 to store them and that was too much. He went over and got us a deal for £3. And when I went to purchase the tickets to Trim, the clerk told me not to take the 5:45 but the 6:00 because the bus driver Sarsfeld was so much nicer and would help us with our bags and find us a good bed and breakfast on the bus route in Trim. I thought I could get used to this kind of attention. It was so different from the States. Irish kindness and generosity and patience seemed to be pervasive. So far, so good.
Next: our first impressions of Dublin and our first Irish meal.
When we got off the plane in Shannon, I handed our passports to the agent. He just waved us on to the customs agent. When he heard I was with my two children, he too let us pass without opening a single suitcase. We must have been innocent looking. Thus I got all the Fourth of July fireworks into the country so we could celebrate our day of independence like true Americans even if we were on foreign soil. It had been quite easy finding our luggage thanks to my dad's travel hint. He had placed wide, bright, shiny green tape on each handle of our luggage. It wasn't the classiest, but it certainly was easy to find when you had twelve suitcases to locate. I went to the Bank of Ireland at the airport to exchange some money for traveling expenses--something one should never do since the airport exchange is usually horrendous. I was to find that in the mid-eighties many, if not all non-tourist areas of Ireland, did not accept American Express traveler's checks or credit cards so I often needed Irish money. And that was the Ireland I wanted to experience.
When we arrived at the terminal, I plopped Erin and Eli down with the luggage and proceeded to look for a CIE bus window, and there it was! I walked over and asked to buy tickets to Trim. The clerk said that I could buy tickets to Dublin leaving in 15 minutes and then get a 5:45 or 6 PM bus to Trim. She said £15 so I handed her £45 thinking it was £15 per person to cross Ireland on a bus. She laughed and said it was only £5 per person for a total of £15 [$15 in the 1984 exchange] for the three of us. I was ecstatic thinking this country was going to be very affordable. Today none of this would be a surprise because most travel information can be found on the internet before one even leaves the US--not so in 1984. It really was an adventure which translates into more nerve wracking!!
We put all the luggage on to two carts, and as we made our way to the bus, Erin and Eli had their first fight on Irish soil. Eli had accidentally knocked the cart he was pushing into his sister’s heel and that started World War III. And it was absolutely pouring out. Welcome to Ireland I thought. When we found our bus, the driver loaded all our bags and off we went. We sat in front, and Erin and Eli slept most of the trip. Eli especially was pooped! He was so-o-o cute. His head kept bobbing to the beat of the bus. And really went crazy whenever we hit a bump, which was quite often on those Irish country roads. The man behind me was very nice and so was the bus driver. I kept thinking so far so good and concentrated on the next step of the journey. And that would be my mindset for the next 12 months every time we took a trip. I was always mindful of the next phase that I needed to be ready for.
The man gave me his newspaper to read. There was an article about divorce, birth control, and abortion coming slowly but surely to this Catholic country. The same man also appointed himself my tour guide pointing out all the interesting sights along the route like the horse tracks. It was fun to see all the little Irish villages--I was to discover that all Irish towns looked the same with the stone façade often whitewashed. And all the pubs. It was true about every Irish village having an almost endless number of pubs--the first building going in to town and the last building going out were usually pubs.
I was amazed at how fast the cars sped on those narrow, curved roads. The pedestrians sometimes literally had to jump into the bushes to avoid being hit. I remember thinking why there weren’t more traffic deaths in this country. I started to laugh because it was a funny sight, but it wasn’t so funny later when I was the one jumping out of the way of an oncoming car. I did find out that pedestrians killed on the roads was the number one cause of death in Ireland--more than by bombs in the North. Of all European countries, Ireland had the highest number of pedestrian deaths. I was imagining my demise on a moonless spring night walking home from a pub singing an Irish tune when I’m squashed by a speeding Volvo!
I noticed some of the Irish cottages I had envisioned--the one-story, white stucco cottage with thatched roof. Mid day we stopped at a restaurant for “tea and biscuits and spirits” as the driver yelled out. An elderly man from the bus came into the ladies room, and Erin was hysterical with laughter and embarrassment. Erin and Eli thought the pub was funny; I thought it was charming and wonderful. It reminded me of the downstairs bar at Beardslee Manor [now called Beardslee Castle] in Little Falls, NY--all stone and dark. I started looking for any Irish ghosts. We were not hungry so just had drinks.
We arrived in Dublin at the Central Bus Station called Busáras at 3:35 in mid-afternoon. Jimmy, a Busáras employee, finished getting our bags as the bus was about to pull away. Erin was alert and noticed many of our bags were missing. He found them all and was very nice apologizing profusely. He did not want them put in the wet so got a cart and loaded them all. When he heard we wanted to leave them while we toured Dublin and grab some dinner before the bus to Trim, he said it would be £6 to store them and that was too much. He went over and got us a deal for £3. And when I went to purchase the tickets to Trim, the clerk told me not to take the 5:45 but the 6:00 because the bus driver Sarsfeld was so much nicer and would help us with our bags and find us a good bed and breakfast on the bus route in Trim. I thought I could get used to this kind of attention. It was so different from the States. Irish kindness and generosity and patience seemed to be pervasive. So far, so good.
Next: our first impressions of Dublin and our first Irish meal.
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