NYC to Dublin to Galway
Traveling must have been good to me over the last ten months. While in NYC I had lunch with my long time friend Ginny. It was great to catch up in person and experience the city in “every day” lunch mode. The next day she called with a single simple message, “That was the first time I’ve seen you relaxed, ever.” She was absolutely right. In the seven years we have been friends this “was” the first time “ever” for her. Somewhere along the way in Africa, something clicked and my troubles just didn’t seem to afford the gravity they used to, against the obvious comparison, and were dismissed.
I am really lucky to have such great friends in New York City. I stayed with Julianne, a buddy from San Francisco who moved to the city about a year ago. Just looking out her window provided many familiar cityscapes. The funny thing is that her apartment is less than 400 meters away from my first apartment in NYC back in 1999. In spite of the obvious landmarks, like the Empire State Building,
and the seemingly endless blocks of townhouses,
the New York skyline is in perpetual motion as old buildings are razed and skyscraper co-ops replace them. (The one on the far right is new since leaving the neighborhood...)
Leaving JFK for Ireland was a anti-climactic compared to launching the trip last October.
The six hours to Shannon, Ireland, followed by the quick flight to Dublin zipped sleeplessly by. Departing at 6:45 pm EST we arrived at 6:30 am GMT. Remarkably the missed night’s sleep wasn’t that painful physically but would prove a mental hurdle.
Bad guys one, Paul zero was the score after picking up my car at Dublin airport. Thrifty is my new least favorite rental service. Expedia is typically very good about including all taxes and mandatory charges on line. So, either the Russian desk clerk was telling a bold face lie or the 29 Euro a day insurance is governmentally required. My total bill shot up from about 35 dollars a day to close to $100. I was too mentally tired to redirect all my plans to make an impromptu stab sans car in Ireland. So this leg of the trip has instantly turned very over-budget.
It took about five hours to wander the overly crowded and under construction roads to the West of Ireland. (Thanks to Mom allowing me to shift gears from the passenger seat when I was in 6th grade, the manual transmition with left handed shifting was no challenge. Driving on the left side of the road is more of an international friend these days than a four wheel mental maze.)
Over the course of the traverse a conscious decision was made to “let it go” and utilize the car to its fullest to enjoy the beautiful countryside.
Galway appears to be a city in transition as well. The fishing community lingers in the harbor but the streets packed with tourists must be the main source of revenue.
The locals still find time to themselves, away from Eyre Square and surrounding tourist blocks. The swans seem to bond with the full time residents, but in reality are just looking for a handout.
Wandering off the beaten track is still my favorite thing to do. The buildings can be so tightly packed together, with no distance between the sidewalk and front windows, that it is far too easy to gaze through the plate glass while passing by. To my surprise, whenever someone was home the response was a warm smile, nod, or wave. I couldn’t keep the pace with the windows, as it just felt way to intrusive.
So instead the city sites along the river were my focal point.
For dinner it seemed appropriate to eat at the acknowledged, “Best Fish & Chips Restaurant” in Ireland. I must admit that McDonagh’s was pretty darn good.
The chips have a different flavor, which must be linked to the Irish breed of potatoes and the cod was “out of this world”. The batter was left behind but the whole fillet cut was juicy and perfectly cooked.
The only thing left to end a good start to an Irish adventure was a cold glass of Guinness. At one of the local pubs off of Eyre Square my pint was slow poured and allowed to stand over the course of about five minutes and then topped off. The head was so thick and smooth it was like whipped cream. There was no harsh finish like the exported version. Finally, I understood what friends had been trying to explain for the last fifteen years.
The Irish pub is an interesting experience and definitively is not "a bar" in the early evening. Families sat together discussing the day. Typically Dad had a pint of Guinness, Mom a pint of lager, and the kids sipped from cokes. No stigma at all and a very genial atmosphere.
Finally, it is interesting what one finds in doorways. Who knows if this will be Bill’s lasting legacy, but he appears to still be the literal “poster child” for the topic of “Why Men Cheat”.
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