Traveling Mercies - March 6, 2013

So happy when this arrived

We missed our connection and were initially rebooked on the following day’s flight (as there’s only one flight a day to Ireland) but I was able to negotiate a rerouting through Amsterdam – after a dozen or so transatlantic flights, you learn a trick or two.  We arrived 10 hours later than originally scheduled, but we were also able to sweet talk Delta into postponing our return, giving us an extra day in-country.  Score.

Unfortunately, one of our bags didn’t make it into Dublin so we had to wait for the next flight, crossing our fingers that it would be on that one.  Luckily it was, so at 7 p.m. we set out for a drive across this lusciously green island we’ll call home for the next week. 

Now, we didn’t so much get to see that luscious greenness since it was dark and raining as we pulled out of the rental car place into the fast-moving (left-side driving) traffic, and from this point forward it took the full concentration of both of us to find “the motorway” that would take us to the half-way point in our journey.

That was pretty straight forward, but once we exited off onto the local roads, it was quite the wake up for our bleary eyes, which had been open for 36 hours now.  The roads were hilly, winding, dark, and still wet--and it was still raining.  As Ted was negotiating a tight turn on an incredibly narrow “2”-lane road, a garbage truck crested over the hill and was barreling right toward us.

Sheldon Cooper

Oh what fresh hell is this? he asked in typical Sheldon fashion and we each wished we had a rosary to kiss when we made it past the truck unscathed.

As we got closer to the cottage, the directions got pretty shoddy.  My point of contact at the cottage sent directions but they weren’t very clear after we got off the motorway.  Rather than giving actual roads to turn down the directions were, “After you get out of the town a bit, you’ll come across McLellan’s garage (it’s old).  Turn at the next road.  Pass a white farmhouse on one side, and then we’ll be a bit further down from that.”

When that somehow didn’t seem to get it, we drove up into a little village where, thankfully, one of the pubs had a few elderly locals finishing off their last bit of stout.  They recognized McLellan’s and said we’d definitely be able to see it (even though it was dark out and there are no streetlights on these country roads). 

So we drove on a little further, by happenstance saw the darkened garage off the road, and thankfully found the turn.  The white farmhouse wasn’t the best indicator because, again, it was dark, but there was a sign for the cottage nailed to the stone wall bordering the one-lane road (fortunately we didn’t pass any other cars at this late hour).

So alas, after thousands of miles of traveling, we made it to our sweet, sweet cottage in the Irish countryside and stayed up long enough to have Irish cheddar and tea by the stove fire that Ted made.

Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin (there’s no fireplace like your own fireplace)…at least your “own” for the next week.

Homeward Bound - March 5, 2013

A travel blog, something I should have begun years ago, is next on my writing horizon.  In keeping with the retroactive theme of my surf blog, this too will require going back in time (at least initially) to capture some important trips.  I know, I know – who posts stories from the past, way in the past, but some of these things must be captured.  However, the first group of posts (and this one will actually be in real time) is our trip to Ireland.
 

Almost a year has passed since that blessed day when Ted and I said I do, and what better place than the west coast of Ireland to celebrate it?  In addition to our Irish heritage, we got married on St. Patrick’s Day.  Like all brides, I look back on this day as the best one of my life, but I also look back with an immense sense of gratitude for all the blessings we were given. 

We truly had the luck of the Irish throughout the planning process.  In four weeks’ time, we pulled together a beautiful outdoor wedding, complete with a bagpiper and hand-fastingceremony.  The entire celebration was filled with meaning.  A woman in Ireland, who ironically shares our last name, made the binding cord for our hand fasting, and close friends and family made the cake and food (all in the Irish theme, including corned beef and cabbage, Shepherd’s Pie, and Irish stew).  Ted’s sister made the bouquet and boutonnières, as well as the fresh lavender favors, and my brother’s girlfriend made my hair piece and the cake topper. 

Continuing with our family wedding motif, we got married in my parents’ front yard underneath a century-old oak tree.  The azaleas and camellias were in bloom, and the dogwood tree was full of white blossoms.  Even the bunny that was romping around the week before as my mom and I were working in the yard made an appearance.  The day was perfect and we honestly couldn’t have asked for anything more.

 

Coming up to our 1-year anniversary now, we’re crossing the Atlantic under a darkened sky, heading toward the home of our ancestors.  I can’t wait to see what awaits us.