Ireland Trip: August 4-18, 2009

This is a menu of the topics on this page (click on any): Wednesday August 5th Thursday August 6th Friday August 7th Saturday August 8th Sunday August 9th Monday August 10th Tuesday August 11th Wednesday August 12th Thursday August 13th Friday August 14th to Sunday August 16th: In Dover Sunday August 16th to Tuesday August 18th: In London A brief rehash of the previous few days .

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Ireland: Tuesday August 4th — Tuesday August 18th, 2009

We arrive at O'Hare Airport 2 hours before our 7:15pm flight time. After a 2 hour delay, we take off but not before Sam's dinner makes a repeat appearance in the middle of the floor at the Admirals Club. Some quick thinking and reacting by his family members result in no one's clothes becoming fouled, including those of who produced the reversal. There was no huge mess and Sam is cleaned up in a matter of minutes, just before we board the plane. It can only get better from here…

Julia is already halfway through the 300+ page book she purchased at the airport bookstore. Grandparents Take note! Instead of using the holiday and birthday money you send on good stuff like candy and I-tunes downloads, she's using the gift greenbacks for lengthy books and similar educational items. If you object to her choices, please start sending ugly sweaters and goofy-looking hats for celebrations.

Wednesday August 5th

We make it to Dublin, Ireland! Through customs, taxi it to the hotel and our room is miraculously ready at noon. Better yet, there is enough bed space for all four of us so no one has to sleep on the floor. We have a delicious lunch at Queen of Tarts where only Sam is too tired to eat. We decide to tour some city sights to adjust to Continental time and proceed to drag the heir and the spare around the city all afternoon with only minimal lethargy. Our hotel, Arlington House, is centrally located in Temple Bar, and it's just a quick trot down the busy Lord Edward/Dawes Street to Trinity College. Great stuff and obviously based on the Ivy League's model. A witty, cute tour guide filled our visit with pleasant, knowledgeable errata. The guide books all say the Book of Kells at Trinity is a show stopper but the real highlight for us was the Long Hall in the Library. It's the longest one-room library in the world (~2m. > than the same at Cambridge U., "and we savor every centimeter," so said our tour guide.) The books are housed several stories high and ladders are needed to get to the higher shelves. The interesting thing about the shelving method is that the books are categorized by SIZE, with the shortest on the top shelves and the largest at the bottom. Mark wasn't thrilled with my suggestion that we try this at home! A quick look at the map told us the Guinness Plant was just up the road so we decided to walk. So we walked and walked and walked until we realized no scale on the map existed and the one+ inch route was actually about 1 + miles. On this star-spangled day, we were then allowed to pay the Ā34 family admission, entitling us to a free beverage of our choosing, just as long as it was Guinness, diet soda, or lemonade. This was served at the top of the museum and a BEAUTIFUL panoramic view of the city. The museum is excellent but in our sleep-deprived, worn-out legs situation didn't allow us to "maximize" our experience. It was very nice but we were tired. The vote was 4-0 to take a taxi back to the hotel and we ran into yet another very nice local of Dublin. We ate at Queen of Tarts again since it was close and good. Mark went to sleep immediately upon returning to the hotel but the rest of us stayed up until almost 9PM!

Thursday August 6th

Mark is the first up, gets ready, and wakes up the night owls at 9AM, telling us three to "It's time to get going." And it was. So much for the "Run of the Bridges" Julia and I had planned on Wednesday night. We're out the door in + an hour and walk along the Liffey to get breakfast. It's another extremely nice day in Dublin. If this is what forecasted "rain all week" looks like, sign me up! We meander down the River Boardwalk and get ourselves to the DART train station. Sam has been looking forward to this experience for a long time. We're heading to the James Joyce museum and the water at Sandy Cove in equal measures. Sam is in hog heaven about this train ride which passes lots of beautiful seaside scenery along our quick ride. We don't know how far away the museum is so Sam has a melt-down en route but once we get to the shoreline, he's fine and even qualifies to carry one of the backpacks. I was fascinated by 2 things: There were so many people in the water at Sandy Cove and Forty Steps (the start of Ulysses), and that I took so much interest in the JJ museum. I sense an Irish authors' reading festival coming on. At Forty Steps we become part of the regular open water scene and it's deck change time. There is a longstanding OW community here and now I'm in hog heaven. We walk around the corner to Sandy Cove, get into the 16C (60F) salt water, and then I do a quick loop around the corner to Forty Steps and back. Julia is still acclimating and giving me several reasons "why not" so she missed the strong tidal pull to the Forty Steps. Sam is bobbing around in the shallows, I'm doing a few laps in the little bay, Julia is complaining, and the lifeguard comes over. He asks where we are from then tells me that most Americans don't even get in due to the water temperature. During this swim experience, Mark has graciously stayed on land to watch our gear. I wish I could spend a lot of time here but it's time to walk back to the train. Sam and I do reverse deck changes on the train and no one from the real world even notices — boo hoo! Julia is semi-horrified with her mother's behavior, Mark knows better than to say a thing. It's time for lunch so we seek out the familiar and go to Starbucks, pathetic souls that we are. In the afternoon we visit Christ Church Cathedral and the Viking exhibits, both of which were totally worth it. In the Cathedral, Julia described to Sam that the sculpture of the man lying in state atop a casket, "He's asleep." Sam promptly told him, "Wake up!" A 360• peek at the city from the roof top ends this excellent Cathedral/Viking tour. In Dublin, we were simply all about checking out the sights, living meal to meal, and being together. It's dinner time right now. We've decided to avoid the ambiguity of mealtime decision-making and make each decision some one's (within reason, please.) Marcia picks out the dinner spot, Julia seconds the motion, and Mark kindly takes on the responsibility for the dessert decision. I wanted a real Irish pub and Temple Bar would be the place to find it. (Mr. Chang's Finest Take-Out Chinese wasn't an option.) We check out a few pubs and found one with excellent Irish food and not-too-loud Irish music. Since it is still my choice, I ordered 3 entrees and an extra plate. The salmon dish won, the corn beef/cabbage/"Boxty" (pancake) was a distant second, and the lamb stew was only ok. Summed up, it was all good. Dessert was at — surprise! — Queen of Tarts! — and worth ever scrumptious calorie. The remaining of the evening was spent relaxing, reading, and writing. Nice day.

Friday August 7th

Oh what a night! Mark and I took turns feigning sleep with Sam alternated between kicking our beds and expressing his general excitement for being alive. The awake parent did whatever possible into coaxing Sam towards accepting European time but being on the midnight ambulance emergency route to the hospital didn't help. Finally, his exasperated parents told him that one of the passing ambulances had Elves in it and was now parked outside our hotel due to a "Kid Emergency." Sam wised up real fast and pretended to be asleep so that he would go undetected by the highly sensitive listening devices and night vision goggles now in use by Santa's helpers. Soon we are rejoicing at the deep breaths of both our slumbering children, long after the midnight church bell have tolled. I'm up a little after 6am to run the bridges with Julia on our last day in Dublin. We join many locals also jump-starting their days but a few along the river are still reveling in the previous night's festivities. It's low tide on the River Liffey. We see much of the river bottom's ugliness exposed, making me feel like I've peered down the wrong dark alley of this city's underbelly. After 2 days here, we get a wonderful sense of family and friendliness from the people here and I suspect they are even more congenial in the countryside, away from the urbane sophistication of any large city. There is a great cultural divide between the highly educated people and those less so, with the majority like most of the European population falling into the latter category. I also see the accelerated aging process brought on by smoking, alcohol, and poor health maintenance. Obesity seems less rampant here than in the States since portions are more in line with adequate amounts. Julia and I conclude our 30 minute bridge run and I liken exercising in the morning with Julia like taking an accordion deer hunting — it's a noisy weight to drag around and you'd probably be much better off had you left it at home. Back at the hotel, Julia miraculously has boundless amounts of energy when asked to accompany Mark to his Irish gastronomic love: Queen of Tarts. They pick up the most amazing scones any of us have ever eaten: warm, light, and airy, which is nothing like the cold bricks we're all accustomed to in the States. Q of T is an award winner and deservedly so. Sam gets unceremoniously awakened. He wants to get up as much as we wanted to stay up last night. We are all quickly washed up, packed, and loaded into a taxi towards the Hertz office. Soon, we are heading west towards Galway, Clifden, and "The Kingdom." Julia uses this travel opportunity to catch up on her sleep and recover from her exhausting morning run. Sam vocalizes on a litany of topics, none of which have anything to do with this trip. We're banking that when we return home, Sam will do nothing but talk about this trip. Mark is driving, I'm navigating and journaling our trip. All four of us alpha dogs are optimizing our strengths at this moment. This new road, the N6, is a brand new, interstate-like direct route to the west coast, and a lot of terrific scenery to boot. Unfortunately, this new "interstate" does not get us all the way to Galway, as we see highway under construction in front of us and go local with 25 kilometers left to Galway. All of a sudden we go from 140 kilometers per hour to winding through towns at 30 kilometers per hour. Then in Galway we slow further trying to stay out of the downtown but struggling through the roundabout induced traffic. Thirty minutes later, we are finally on the last leg in the countryside again heading to Clifden. We stop at a great road-side pub for lunch and get to Clifden around 2pm. Lots of road expansion happening in these parts which created too much traffic in Galway to get any sense of the city. I'm feeling tired (from Sam's nights) and a bit "squeezed" in the car. Then we arrive at Abbey Glen Castle Hotel. Oh MY! What a beautiful place with a professional staff who instantly befriends us. Just about the time we need and desire it, the complimentary afternoon tea shows up, packed with zillions of delicious Irish calories. We savor every bite that is when we are not savagely wiping powdered sugar from our faces and reaching for the next sweet. A stretch-out walk is now mandatory so with Mom at the helm and Daddy picking up stragglers, we set off. We pass the 2 heliports on the property and the pitch and putt gold course before getting to the local playground filled with lots of regular Irish kids. Later, before we are half way through dinner, both helipads are filled by some of the well-heeled clientele at this hotel. After our walk we venture along Sky Road for a view of the Atlantic, to the west. We get the full-on rustic, 30mph wind-in-your-face, drizzling Irish afternoon that you'd envision if you're asked to describe "Coastal Ireland." Great farm landscape below the high hills we're standing on. No dramatic drop-offs like Scotland or England (yet) but it's all beautiful. Back at the A++ hotel, we have an hour to kill before dinner so Mark and Julia play snooker on a genuine 17-foot table and tiny pockets with zero forgiveness. Mark sips his first taste of Irish whiskey and Julia enjoys her Sprite at the snooker table, Sam draws in the room, and I snooze in our hotel room. Then comes dinner. It's more of an event than a meal; we savor every bite of the Irish roast, sea bass, and salmon before digging into dessert. All of it is just delectable but more importantly, the dining room is full of people having a marvelous time and energizing the room with joy. We just love it here. One granny hosting a multigenerational family dinner, whom I spoke to in the lobby later tells me, "We've been coming here for 35 years!" Observation from Mark… "The blended formal and family dining at this dreamy castle is remarkable. Everyone talks about the beauty of Ireland. It is here that we realize what Ireland is about. Yes, it is green and great to look at, but frankly Marcia and I prefer the more rugged brown of Scotland. However when it comes to people and family, Ireland is special. The children do not sit at the children's table; they are not frowned at in the formal restaurants; they are integral to what makes people happy. It is here that we find the beauty of Ireland. In contrast, Scotland is a wee bit dour in the people category, but wins hands down on landscape."

Saturday August 8th

The day starts with a breakfast just as good as the previous night's dinner. I can't get enough of this salmon! Armed with great reviews, we're off in great anticipation for the Connemarra National Park. Sam has a 20-minute Samisode in the parking lot, refusing to get out of the car. In hindsight, this should have been an omen. Mark and Julia have gone on ahead to discover a mediocre visitors center. When Sam and I finally catch up, we all set out on a hike, all whopping 1.5 kilometers of it. It's a drizzly, foggy day so our "hike" and ability to enjoy the sights is compromised. We must have gone at least 100 meters before the midges started eating us alive. (In the USA, these miserable bugs are commonly referred to as "no-see-ums.") Mark is really irritated and harshly tells Sam something he normally doesn't say to anyone ever; we make a unilateral decision to get the heck out of there. Best move of the day. Once we are safely in our car and driving away from Connemarra, Mark paraphrases a line from The Lord of the Rings, "What do midges eat when we four are not around?" Our new choice is to visit the nearby town of Westport. It's just lovely and has a smattering of something for everybody in our family. Sam finds a toy store with trains and Mark drops into a great bookstore run by a man from Atlanta who has just spent the past 35 years in SE Asia. Mark purchases a book on Irish History, recommend by Mr. Atlanta. What does Westport have for Julia and me? We are just happy that the midges are still feasting on tourists far, far away from us now, and that we are not spending the required X number of hours where the tour book says we should. It's on to horseback riding in Cleggan this afternoon. Sam rides Mini, Julia is on Pepperoni, Mark handles Blondie, and I spend the entire 90 minutes wrestling with Bonnie. Great weather, semi-nice people, smelly equipment (especially the hats), and I simply couldn't wait until it was over. We horseback down the asphalt road about a mile until we came to the beach. (The horses probably loathe this hoof pounding.) My pre-conception of this ride was sauntering along on a trail through lots of green scenery. This was immediately squashed as we took 100 yard trots along the beach in single file a massive — count ‘em — 4 times. The kids loved it, Mark thought it was great but I knew deep down inside that as the official historical recorder of this family, I would have the final say and so I kept my mouth shut. If your opinion differs, may I suggest you get your own notebook? Back at the hotel, Julia and I have an hour "Spa" treatment before we all head to another scrumptious dinner — it's just sooooo great to be here! The big news for us at Abbeyglen Castle is that the helicopters have switched places during the day. The scenery in Ireland is rustic and pretty, the people are very pleasant and family-oriented but I still like Scotland better. We head to "The Kingdom" and Killarney for 4 days starting tomorrow. With a name like "The Kingdom," I'm expecting leprechauns to jump out at us from underneath massive mushrooms. About this magnificent hotel, the Abbeyglen Castle,

We highly recommend it.
We will make an effort to return if we are ever in this part of the world again.
It would make a great setting for an Agatha Christy murder mystery.

Sunday August 9th

The day couldn't have started any better for Sam: He was seated next to the helicopter pilot at another spectacular breakfast, chattin' the guy up. Moments later, the helicopter took off in full view of this enthusiastic audience of four and came back over the hotel specifically to buzz us. Just awesome! We bid Abbeyglen Castle adieu and head to the Burren National Park and the Cliffs of Moher. The Irish have a different idea about their national parks than Americans, specifically our family, has of the ones in the States. In Ireland, the parks are "drive-throughs" and include towns, sparse visitor centers, and no rangers or real bears that we could locate. Rather than stop so we could say we'd "done Burren", we stayed in the car all the way south to "The Cliffs." They are a beautiful sight but we came to wonder if the owners are starving, based upon their need to charge astronomical prices for food and parking. We did get a kick out of the sign that stated, "Do not pass beyond this sign" and was soundly ignored by hundreds of tourists as they proceeded around the sign onto an uneven, narrow dirt path right along the side of the cliff edge. One slip and you're outta there. In younger years, this happy-go-lucky mom would have joined the senseless ranks but now that she has actual responsibilities in life and is in a position as a role model, the Green family turns back. We escaped alive only to be help up at gastronomical gunpoint, paying Ā30 for a very sparse lunch. Back in the car, we push on southbound to the Kilmer Ferry. Thank you Brian Cunningham for sending us this way, saving us 2+ hours of travel time and through, of all places, your home town, Limerick. The 20-minute ferry ride took Sam some getting used to but with 5 minutes to go, he came to his senses and calmed down. This day has been a glorious summer day in SW Ireland: overcast, drizzly, 60F, and damp. We wondered during our trip why pedestrians in Ireland walk with the traffic, as opposed to against it in America. These narrow winding roads lined with tourists driving on "the wrong side" and endless tour bus traffic and cars flying at 100 kilometers per hour make such feats flat out D?A?N?G?E?R?O?U?S. Mark's tour book places Ireland second in traffic fatalities behind European champion Greece. Unless I am stranded, I will not be biking/walking/hiking any long distances in Ireland (or anywhere on the globe) in this lifetime. The land in the SW area is more gently sloping even though the people are unwavering in their congeniality; they are just sooooo nice. Eventually we land in "The Kingdom," a.k.a. County Kerry. No leprechauns sightings yet but I'm on high alert. Our Bed & Breakfast in Killarney is lovely. Mary, the lady of the house, practically falls over herself being nice in welcoming us. If she had been one teensy bit nicer, I may have had to put her in her place but fortunately for all involved, she knew when to back off at just the right time. We do the Pub Thing for dinner. We learned of an Irish National Law which states, "All hamburger meat must be cooked well done because the meat comes from ‘all over.'" And just what and where does ‘all over' include? Anyone read Upton Sinclair's The Jungle ‘round these parts? I think I spy part of a fingernail in Mark's burger… After dinner, Julia and I read in the B&B's reading room, complete with comfy chairs and a burning fireplace. Heaven!

Monday August 10th

Julia and I sleep in a wee bit this morning. Mark is up and at ‘em with Sam way before humanly possible but I continue to retreat to the Land of Nod. Before bed last night, Sam wanted to play The Napping House; I am always the Granny and Sam is always the child so he does the majority of the bouncing and I receive the brunt of the smushing. This morning I am curtly informed by Julia that in my record of this trip, I had failed to mention her game of Snooker with Daddy while we stayed at Abbey Glen Castle. (Dear Reader, Since you have read this far, you are aware that this fact has been edited in, courtesy of Julia's comment mentioned here.) In addition, Julia felt there was a lack of balance with the story this trip because I am paying too much written attention to Sam. So would I please try to do better? Furthermore, I forgot to mention that we have seen as many people here in Western Ireland wearing shorts as we do in Chicago around Christmas time. Message received. After a very nice breakfast (If AGC was a 5, FG is a 4 +), Julia and I walk to the Muckross House 2 + kilometers away; and eventually run back after our tour of the house and grounds. This manor house is set on 11,000 acres and gifted to the Irish Government in ~1930 by some very generous private citizens. Beautiful place with views of the lakes and gardens all around. I liked this spot a lot and would enjoy it several times during our stay in Killarney. The very sophisticated, 20-something tour guide, Emily, gave us an excellent 1+ hour tour. She really knew her stuff as she filled our tour with factoids and tidbits, giving me a glimmer of hope for the next generation. While we wound our way through the Muckross House, we were told of the six-year decorating process undertaken for the visit of Queen Victoria and her 100+ member entourage, which included 2 fire engines. When she finally arrived to this home of private citizens, she stayed only 2 nights due to unclear "security issues." Probably needed to run for her life since the owners must have been devastated with her scant, negligible, insignificant, trifling, brief visit after having spent so much cash-ola and effort preparing for her arrival. By not bestowing the titles (Lord and Lady) and associated land grants on them that is customary after such a visit, (this would have also been a way of recognizing and apologizing for her boorish and outlandish behavior,) Queen Vicky's visit resulted in the financial ruin of the home owners, who, according to custom, had spent a fortune in decorating for 5 years in preparation for her stay. The bottom line: they had to sell the house and they now know that Vicky is not a gracious guest. Other bottom line: Muckross House and the surrounding lakes are stunning. Its famous beauty is well deserved. Aside from this etiquette horror story, we also learned of the full farm on the premises which are currently staffed by docents doing their things. We spoke with one woman in a "medium" size farm, which consisted of 2 bedrooms and 1 main room. She actually grew up on such a farm which never had electricity, running water, central air, an HVAC unit, cable, Wi-Fi, or even a nearby Starbucks. She looked normal to us and made great griddle bread and homemade butter. Sam toured most of the farm making animal noises and loving the newfound idea that it was the brown and the black cows that produced chocolate milk. After we left Muckross House, we set out to drive "The Ring of Kerry." By setting into the Ring at 2:30pm, we passed most of the gigantic tour buses coming out of the Ring hence by sheer dumb luck, it was good timing. There is a lot of beautiful scenery, quaint towns, and nice people to meet on this drive. We got out whenever we needed/wanted to, especially near the westernmost edge. Since the standard daily Irish weather forecast varies only by the amount of rain forecasted to fall on any particular day, we were dumbfounded when we had exquisite rays of sunshine stream down around us. On a minute-to-minute basis, I kept taking on and off my sunglasses. Somewhere along the way, we stopped, for the Green version of a Ploughman's lunch (if you don't know, look it up): fresh bread, diet sodas, carrots, apples. Twice as much food as yesterday at half the cost! Along the northeastern coast, we ooooo'd and ahhhh'd our way along at a pleasant rate. When we got to Killorglin, we became involved in a pleasant traffic jam around the 3-day "Puck Fair", which main premise is to worship some fortunate goat. We arrived just as the Grand Marshall was crowning the Goat Queen. Everyone was happy, sober, and taking their time. The announcer even broadcasted over the PA, "Everyone take your time moving about…" They sure were. We drove back to Killarney, ate at the same, sure bet pub as last night, filled out some post cards, and had a pleasant evening. Now we'll take a moment to rant and rave about the Irish roads, driving, and pedestrians. A sign near our hotel claims, "52 auto deaths in 4 years in Kerry." We wondered why the "52" wasn't on a digital board to make upward adjustments easily. The normal speed limit on the narrow, winding roads is 100 km/hr (that's 62.4 MPH) and there is NFW a sane person would drive anywhere near that speed. Mark is lucky to go 50 MPH and keep it under control. Add pedestrians, cyclists, and no shoulders (just rock walls) to the vehicular mix and it is one flat-out dangerous combination. On "The Ring", I saw a sign, "Caution Walkers on the Road," the first of its type seen on this island! We didn't know who to thank for such consideration to post such information. Add a hiking vacation to my list of things I'll never do, which also includes going a cycling vacation, voluntarily parachuting out of a flying plane, and of course, anything to do with leeches.

Tuesday August 11th

I woke up refreshed after a night of uninterrupted sleep. Pleasant breakfast, clear blue skies. We're off to Dingle Peninsula, taking the clockwise route we were advised to take. First stop is Inch Beach, named not for #1. The amount of sand left during an incoming tide, #2. The amount of room is takes up on the map, but for 3. The ancient farm lot sizes in Ireland. We had to dig the sand away from the area sign for the answer. The water was too cold, rough, and windy to take a swim but maybe later. Heading out west on the Peninsula, the fog continued to roll in so the view we'd heard so much about will be left to the books and postcards. However, we could identify the view if matched against a white sheet. The town of Dingle has a lot of character and wool products for sale but we decided to continue on since no one was dying to buy themselves a sweater. We did stop after another + hour's drive through this albino pea soup at a caf´/pottery house. The place turns out to be the upscale, primo pottery spot in the area. Our lunch in the caf´ was good but lacked access to caffeinated beverages. Afterwards, we set out by backtracking a little to find Krueger's, famous for being "the closest Irish pub to America." Once we finally found it, it didn't look anything like a pub and it was closed. We leave without any adult beverages but none the worse for the wear. The Ring of Dingle passes back through the town of Dingle where we are faced with a big decision: Connor Pass or not? Hey, we're here so we go for it. When know it's our kind of place when we pass a sign pointing us in the appointed direction and the ‘P' in ‘Connor Pass' has been deftly scratched off. We took a picture for our dear friend and tour guide from afar, Richard CONNOR Clifford. As most passes do, this one goes up, up, up and the road goes from narrow to narrower. Just after we crested the summit in a dense fog and started to go down, down, down, the road got so narrow that a major traffic jam ensued. We were on the outside of the road, literally against the stone wall barrier that separates the road from the drop off. The inside of the road had the oncoming traffic smacked against the stone cliff, attempt to inch by. To illustrate the constricted area, the car behind us had a bicycle slightly protruding from the width of its frame. The "upward" cars passing us "downers" were scraping the bike's tire so the couple finally took the bike off and the woman rode it down the mountain in the misty rain. Mark squeezed the car into a nook in the stone wall, put the emergency brake on and we sat there, letting all the "uppers" pass since we couldn't get down until they were all out of the way. All the while, we were allowed to enjoy the exquisite view of the inside of a steam room, with our car windows open to the sloping cliff inhabited by a couple of sheep. By this time, I was coming to the realization that I was sick of being in the car and the likes of folks like me do better when we are let out to run on a regular basis. Due to today's circumstances of not-so-great weather and the narrow, winding roads, I'm being patient and following along with "The Plan" because I know a break will be self-orchestrated soon. We get back to Kilarney and go to the Muckross House's suggested swim area. The 67•F Middle Lake has a gentle rocky bottom and for as far as I can see, only mid-calf deep; only Sam dunks fully. I did want to swim but not in such shallow water with an unpredictable middle. The walk to and from the lake is nice but a lowly consolation prize at best. Dinner is in the center of town, at Laurel's Pub, simply so we're not eating at the same place 3 nights in a row.

Wednesday August 12th

A beautiful and typical Irish day dawns: overcast and misty. I go running through Muckross today and love every step of it. By the time I'm back and sweaty, the troops are at breakfast. Today, to maintain familial unity, we conquer and divide. Mark and Julia are going to Blarney Castle and Sam and I are hanging around the hotel to do homework, pack up for the next few days, and get our desired break. We get it all in and even manage a short hike to Muckross Abbey. Sam and I have a lot of fun, as do the Blarney Stoners. They will report their travels as they choose but their trip lasted 2 hours less than I anticipated so they got to help with some of the latter packing. Once the lid was on the suitcases, we set off to central Killarney in search of internet connection. An incredibly cantankerous woman (a first for us in Ireland) at the Tourist Information Desk earns no Brownie Points from her surly directions but we do find the Government Office of Tourism. A nice chap there (this is more like it and quite typical) is most helpful and leads us to Murphy's Pub, quite a local gem. We catch up on email, have an excellent meal, then spend the evening reading at the hotel. All is right with the world. :) Now for Julia's account of the trip to Blarney Stone: I woke up only to be hurried downstairs to a delicious breakfast of banana fritters. Back from her run, Mom literally popped up in the middle of breakfast among the bushes outside the windows. Sam saw her but not Dad so Sam got all pumped up. After breakfast, our family split up: Mom and Sam staying in Killarney and Dad and I driving to Blarney Castle to see the Blarney Stone. Although we didn't know it at the time, Dad was taking the side road.

Thursday August 13th

We all get up, get ready, and are packed to go by 7:35am, some sort of family record for this trip. It's a crystal clear day in Killarney and we have greatly enjoyed our stay at Friar's Glen. We say goodbye to Mary, John, and Bridget. They run an A+ operation. The drive to Cork is uneventful but quite pretty. Mark is tense as usual in getting to the airport on time (in Mark's view "with ambiguous maps") so I leave the worrying to him since I am a travel optimist and have a feeling that everything will work out and it once again does. We're standing at the gate 90 minutes before the plane departs, leaving plenty of time to sightsee the airport. It takes two passes through the Duty Free Shop to find the Aer Lingus model plane section; even Sam missed it and we all stumble on it through sheer dumb luck. Because of his 2 days of good behavior, he's cashing in his promised "toy at the airport." Julia snags 2 boxes of chocolate truffles with a stamped expiration date of July 2010. Julia is advised that if she takes these candies to camp, she should make sure she consumes them before they go bad. She understands such a responsibility and accepts it with an almost-straight face. We get on our Aer Lingus flight, the one with the cattle car seating, similar to that of Aloha Airlines. Let's hope Aer Lingus stays in business longer than Aloha Airlines did. Goodbye Ireland! Hello London. From the plane to the Heathrow Hilton, it takes us about an hour of perpetual motion. Lunch is served; we're famished! Afterwards, it's time to divide up our loads since Mark and Julia are heading back home tomorrow and Sam and I are going to Dover. Most of this work has already been done but I off-loaded even more weight from the Dover bags to accommodate any souvenirs acquired. We all take the airport train to "The Tube." When the Picadilly Line arrives, Sam goes pleasantly bananas and Mark has to literally drag Sam onto the train. He is in Train Heaven with the much anticipated audio voice saying "Mind the Gap — Doors Closing" over and over and over and over. He's been reciting this for more than a year. Being in The Tube is a huge bonus. It's about 45 minutes to Victoria Station by Tube and worth every second of it for Sam. Mark and I are noting how I will make the return trip to the hotel on Sunday with a heavy suitcase, 2 backpacks, and Sam. It appears all the staircases on that trip will be ‘down' save for one ‘short' up one. Sigh of relief. Mark gets our round trip tickets (Ÿ26 for me Ÿ1 for Sam!) while Julia, Sam, and I score dinner. And then it's time to say goodbye. I am confident they will be fine and have fun in London tonight. Julia is a little bit teary-eyed about her upcoming 2 + week absence to camp but I remind her what a great experience she's going to have and how much fun it was last summer. Even though our train is 20 minutes from send-off time, I encourage Mark and Julia to go and they do. Sam and I board the train with what seems like the entire population of London and we are lucky to find seats. Even better, when the train divides 80 minutes into the ride, were are miraculously in the correct section so our "Dog & Pony Show" of suitcases and bags stays put. The single issue we encounter is the lack of working toilets on this packed train: only one in four are flushing. No big deal, right? Bill Hamblin picks us up from the Dover train station and we both use the bathroom straightaway. All is good at Victoria Guest House, lots of catch up with Audrey and Bill.

Friday August 14th to Sunday August 16th: In Dover

Sunday August 16th to Tuesday August 18th: In London

As we wait for our plane at London Heathrow, it is easier to go in reverse to describe our past few days. Sam sits next to me, calmly awaiting departure too. We have played "Name that Airplane" for the past few minutes. We got up at 5am, dressed, checked out of the Hilton, and caught the 5:50am Heathrow Connect train without incident. By 6:30am we had checked into our flight, been cleared through security, and as I am gathering up our belongings from the security conveyor belt, that is the moment when Sam bolted. He was in hot pursuit to get "something," a.k.a. a toy plane. I searched the duty free shop straight ahead but no Sam. Then I was off to the WH Smith shop (~Walgreen's) right next door — still no Sam. When he was not in the Toy Store several shops away, I circled back to the duty free shop to get a security guard to help me with an official search. I was starting to fear that Sam may be bound for Bahrain/Qatar/Malaysia since these were the only other flights boarding at this early hour of the day. Was it possible that someone had tented him with her burka? I was beginning to imagine lots of dark possibilities. Just then Sam zooms out from in between two aisles in the D-F shop with a KLM plane in his hand, looking at me expectantly because he really wants this toy. First off, I was very relieved to find him and that he was unharmed. Next I told him how scared I had been that I couldn't find him because he had run away. Lastly, I gently removed the KLM plane and put it on the counter and peacefully led him out of the store. I calmly told him since he ran away from me and I couldn't find him, he was not getting anything. This is NOT what Sam wanted to hear and the predictable obvious happened: Sam completely unraveled with an atomic blast tantrum in the very busy departure lounge of one of the busiest international airports in the world. Many people were thinking something like, "I hope that kid isn't on my flight" or "What did that lady do to that kid?" And who could blame them for thinking such thoughts??? A few folks offered assistance and I told them in an even voice, "Thank you but he simply isn't getting what he wants." We endured ordering take out breakfast at Starbucks while Samisode, Act II was being performed to a growing audience. The most important audience member, Mom, remained secure and never caved. Once out of Starbucks, we turned left towards the gates, away from the departure lounge and all those luring shops, and that was that. The grand finale of today's Samisode performance was coming as we went into a hallway with great echo effects. At this point, I knew he wouldn't do anything I asked him to do now so it was safe to tell Sam, "I want you to scream much louder than you did back there. Let it all out." He looked at me sideways with pursed lips and telepathically communicated, "You can ask me all day but I am NOT going to do anything you ask me to today." In the silence that ensued, the curtain dropped on this day's performance. To Sam, I remain one of the most highly decorated members of the Mean Mommy Hall of Fame. Within 15 minutes we're on the plane, and in another 45 minutes after that, we're homeward bound. Sam is an excellent flyer and knows exactly how to maneuver both his tray table and seat. On this particular flight he is discovering how to use the bathroom solo. By the time breakfast is served, he's already made three trips, just like a "big boy." After visit #3, the gleam in his eye telegraphed, "I know I just did something I wasn't supposed to do," and that's when the flight attendant showed up, responding to the call button. Knowing no limits to the depths to which I will sink when I need him to behave, I quickly told him that red button was connected directly to the North Pole but the choice was his. The gleam is gone and a stone-faced Sam returns to his seat, knowing better than to irritate the Man in the Red Suit. He's now finished his homework which includes the zero to twelve multiplication worksheets, some cursive practice, and a letter to Dad explaining his recent bolting episode at HTR, and asking Dad to get him a plane during his next visit to an international airport.

A brief rehash of the previous few days

***For those of you unfamiliar with Marcia's connection to Dover, England, please visit www.DoverSolo.com.*** On Friday August 14th, I woke up at 3:30am and walked to the Western Docks to visit with Michael and Lance Oram who were leaving at 4:30am with swimmers. Great to see them for the better part of an hour. Sam and I breakfast at Victoria Guest House, swim for a little bit, and make our way by bus to the Dover Transport Museum. It was ok but certainly something fun to do with Sam. We meander through Dover later for trinkets and eat at Chateau McDonald's. On Saturday, I get up at 5:30am to swim with Mike Humphreys early, before Sam awakes. We go wall-to-wall in some lumpy water. Freda is on the beach and I do the first of a 2-day catch-up with her. :) On cue, Sam wakes up 5 minutes after I return — phew! After breakfast, the 2 of us go back to the Harbour and Sam is in Hog Heaven!~ He looooves swimming in this Harbour, all 65•F of it, and stays in with me for the better part of an hour. Since we're living meal to meal in Dover, we shower and go to McDonald's again. I'm now on a pathetic roll for collecting the free Coke glasses being offered with every large meal purchases. (This will get worse soon.) More Dover meandering and another trip to the Harbour to visit with Freda. Our intention is to visit Dover Castle but while walking along the Marine Parade, Sam tells me he just wants to swim in the Harbour again. I think, "More power to you, kid!" I watch from the beach as he splashes around contently. The day is magnificent. Dinner is with 3 lovely Australians at Hubert House — Kevin was waiting for his swim and understandably nervous. On Sunday, I swim again early. The water is like glass but it will get increasingly choppier throughout the day. Sam is still asleep 12 hours after he went to bed at the end of his very active Saturday. I get him up and at ‘em then we say goodbye and Bill takes us to the train station at 10am. This time in Dover has been quite relaxing and calm for me with no set itinerary. Nice. Sam and I arrive at Victoria Station by 12:30pm and make our way to the Heathrow Hilton. We turn it around quickly, briefly unpack, and are headed back to central London by 3pm. Sam is a great traveler even though people are amazed when they hear this. Aside from the occasional, although serious, bolts, he carries his gear, reads the signs, keeps track of where he and I are. I even allow him to run ahead a little when it's safe to do so since he (almost) always returns. In the Tube, I am not sure a happier passenger exists than Sam. On this glorious Sunday, most of London seems to be out on the town, buzzing with happy energy. I really love this city!!! Our first stop is, of course, the "Mind the Gap" store which turns out to be just another "Ye Olde Tourist Trappe Shoppe" but they do have a nice selection so we load up. Since we are in Trafalgar Square, Big Ben is just down the block and an absolute "Must See" for Sam. We do the usual photo-op shop but like his desire to swim in Dover, all Sam really wants to do is ride the trains. Mom obliges but only after snagging Coke glass #3 at Mickey D's. (For the record, I always start the meal by tossing the fries and salad dressing into the trash.) Since Sam has been a safe traveling pal all day, by our behavioral pre-arrangement deal, Sam gets a Tube Train in the hotel gift shop. The momentum of a good day in the life of a happy boy continues. On Monday, we have the entire day to explore London. I do an early AM workout at the excellent hotel health club while Prince Charming snoozes, stockpiling energy for this special day. Once we are up and dressed, I cringe as I think we are being charged Ÿ16 for the not-worth-Ÿ6 breakfast buffet only to discover the next day at check-out that it was free! Further on down the highway of Good Luck, the Tube ticket seller advises us that a 10-minute wait to board the train will save us 50% on the fare. Since the day is Sam's (and he is thinking "I'm so glad good old ‘What's-her-name' isn't here to have any say in the agenda"), we take a 2 + hour, round-about trip on 4 different trains to Covent Gardens and the London Transport Museum. What could be better for Sam? The London Transport Museum turns out to be a good generalists' transport museum, (the NY Transit Museum in Brooklyn is better for just trains) but Sam scores pay dirt in their excellent gift shop: 1 more Tube train, a German model train, and a Delta plane. For lunch, we sit on some steps in Covent Gardens and eat some apples and rolls pilfered from the really expensive hotel buffet. There is a lot of happy action going on all around us. I want to go to Harrods, not to buy anything but to see it again. We eat a snack at McDonald's to snag Coke glass #4 (now we have the full set) then take an unintentionally indirect route to ‘Expensiveville.' On this normal Monday afternoon, Harrods is wall-to-wall with every type of humanity imaginable. I've been amazed at the number of Muslim, burka-clad, Middle Eastern, oil-money-folks here in London and most of their chauffeured limos seem to be parked in front of Harrods right now. For every 3 customers, there appears to be at least 1 staff member, many with no apparent function. I get Julia some cookies packaged in a tin fashioned as a double-decker bus. It's time to head back to the hotel. Sam wants to swim, so we do. Dinner is followed by a shower, some packing, and then bed. I love London so much and am glad Sam has had a wonderful time here. On Tuesday August 18th, the alarm goes off at 5am. Our regular life will resume shortly. For now, it's been a very nice trip. Ireland 2009