April 12 Avoca, Glendalough to Dublin
Our last day on the bus. The rain avoided us yesterday,
but it’s still clear and sunny out this morning. Breakfast wasn’t great.
No choice. They slapped down a plate of egg, bacon, etc., were late with
the toast and it felt very like a conveyer belt to us. No matter. Let’s
get going. We drove through the old part of Waterford past Reginald’s Tower,
which was built originally by the Vikings. The city center of Waterford
looks very much like most Irish cities architecturally. We had our tour
assessments to fill out while we drove and luckily the roads were fairly
good for writing. We headed out into the country county roads of
County Wexford, past lots of yellow gorse brush streaking the green hills.
We heard about rebellion in 1798 led by Father Murphy, an insurrection
by the Catholics trying to gain rights inspired by the French Revolution
20 years before that. Didn’t work. The rebellion was brutally put down
by the British.
Our first stop today is Avoca, in the Avoca Vale, a pretty valley
about 2 hours drive from Waterford. The reason for the stop is a demonstration
at one of the oldest hand weaving mills still functioning in Ireland. Avoca
is also recently famed as the location of exterior filming for the series
Ballykissangel and when Carole heard that her eyes lit up! She loves that
show! I think I’ve only seen it once but as weaving didn’t particularly
interest me either, we decided to spend our time in the village.
We ascertained our departure time then trotted up and over the dip
in the road into the town. First the church. The actual name of it is Saints
Patrick and Mary. It’s a very pretty stone church and chapter house with
a little yard, stone wall and wrought iron fence. There’s a lovely gothic
peaked door as well. Down the road a little further there are a few small
shops along side a row of two storey houses painted yellows and oranges
and pinks. I still haven’t been able to take a photo of the single storey
cottage rows that we’ve seen in a lot of villages and towns. The bus drives
by too quickly and too close to the side of the street to take a photo
from the bus and nowhere we’ve stopped has had them. This will have to
do.
And there’s the pub! Fitzgerald’s, where a lot of the action in
the show takes place. There were very few people around since most of our
group stayed at the mill. We each posed for a photo on the benches in front
of the bright yellow and blue pub and walked down by the river to see the
stone bridge. We looked in a couple of souvenir shops as well. On
the way back we passed one building that had a sign on it that proclaimed,
in spite of it’s relatively small size, that it was not only the law courts,
but also the computer learning center, library, AND the tourist information
center! Necessity etc. A final photo of the church from the village point
of view, and back to the mill complex of low white and red buildings on
the river.
The clouds began to gather and we drove under darkening skies through
the north part of County Wicklow where the mossy-trunked trees were tall
and close to the road, their overhanging branches forming a canopy over
the road. Or it would have if the leaves had been in full bloom. Probably
looks really pretty in summer with the sun streaming through but the skies
were darkening. We drove through a town called Rathdrum where a man called
Charles Stuart Parnell was born. He was a Protestant MP who campaigned
for Ireland to become independent from Britain and he pushed for rights
for Catholics. It's said that he probably would have succeeded and
Ireland would have gained its independence as a complete and undivided
country, avoiding all the violence of the 20th C. except for one thing.
He fell in love with the wife of another MP, one Mrs. Kitty O'Shea. The
scandal ruined him and he had to resign in disgrace. He's still honoured
in Ireland with squares, parks and streets named for him. The only man
with more accolades seems to be Daniel O'Connell one of the leaders of
the 1916-1920 rebellion that did lead to an independent Ireland, albeit
without the northernmost 7 counties.
Rain spit on the bus windows as we arrived at the Glendalough visitor
center. Glendalough, which means the Valley of the lakes, was the
site of a monastery founded by St. Kevin nearly 1400 years ago. It was
used for quite a few centuries before it fell into disuse and ruin. There
are roofless buildings and a round tower and the remains of a kitchen building
along side the monks’ cemetery.
We saw a short video in a room that I found very cold and drafty
and by the time our walking tour was to start, the rain was coming down
lightly but steadily. I had neither hood nor umbrella so I decided to skip
it. I was chilly already and getting wet wouldn’t help. I looked around
the visitor center and made my way across the car park to the hotel in
the village where we were going to have our lunch break .
A few people from the tour had already gone straight there. Had I known
I would have joined them earlier. There was a gas fire burning and luckily
an empty table right beside it. Bliss! Lunch, hot tea and a hot apple crumble
with custard for desert which I was just getting ready to eat when the
rest of the group returned. Carole joined me and ordered her lunch while
I toasted myself on the fire and my tongue on the hot custard and heard
about the walking tour which did sound quite interesting. She found a beautiful
Celtic cross in the cemetery that she got a good photo of too!
This is our last stop before Dublin. We drove out of the bad weather
and through some pretty valleys on our way to Dublin. The sky was clear
and blue by the time we reached our hotel, the Burlington. This is a top
class hotel not far from the Grand Canal in the south east of Dublin in
the Ballsbridge section, within walking distance of the city center. We
have booked an extra night here as we’re not flying out until Sunday. A
few of the group are either heading to other destinations in Europe
but most seem to be heading home tomorrow. Now if you had come all
this way, arrived on the first day of the tour and had your city orientation
drive, then had only a half a day in Dublin at the other end of the tour,
why would you go right back home? Wouldn’t you want to stay a little longer
to see Dublin or any other city where your tour started, especially at
your own pace? Oh well.
Carole wanted a rest since she hadn't slept well the night before
but I had lots of energy and I wanted to go for a walk. I headed out keeping
in mind to look for a drugstore for a couple of things, stopping at the
front desk to register our voucher for the Saturday night. The hotel seems
full of conventioneers this weekend. I consulted with someone who may have
been a hotel maintenance staff member, the concierge wasn’t at his desk
but this gentleman knew which bus I might take to return to the hotel.
I walked across the Canal and ended up on Bagot Street, which seemed
to have a lot of shops so I thought I might find a drugstore there. While
walking I spotted a green antique freestanding letterbox, the kind you
would have outside your own house for mail delivery, not the kind the post
office collects mail in. The post boxes in Ireland are green, by the way,
not red as in the UK. Anyway, the letter box was standing outside a small
shop absolutely packed with …. Stuff! Some of it antique, some of it collectible,
some of it memorabilia. I spent 20 minutes in there just looking at the
eclectic assortment on shelves, tables and hung on walls. Must bring Carole
here tomorrow.
I continued walking. Found Fitzwilliam square in the Georgian part
of Dublin and gawped at some gorgeous architecture. Dublin is famous for
it’s decorated and painted doors with their fan lights above and iron railing
decorations on balconies and window dressing. The most elaborate door is
black but has windows and a fan light that seems to have iron and wood
work that looks like white lace covering it and ivy covering the brick
surrounding the doorway.
Further down the road I realized as I looked a few blocks ahead of
me, that I was at St. Stephen’s Green. I could see the glass enclosed shopping
center on the far corner of the park. I knew there would be a Boots in
there so I headed over, purchased what I needed and sought out a camera
store on Grafton street to replace the lens cap that seems to have gone
walkabout today. I had to get back to the hotel and the bus
that came where I waited was going in the wrong direction for the hotel
so I ended up in a cab from the taxi rank along side the Green.
We have signed up for the drive along Dublin Bay to a nice restaurant.
We left early but the traffic was really heavy leaving the city. Rush hour
Friday night, so it would only follow. We did finally get off the main
road and followed the one that follows the waterfront through Dun Laoughaire,
formerly called "Kingstown", where the ferries dock from the UK.
Sandy Cove is our stop, just past DL. There’s a martello tower at the end
of that cove where James Joyce lived and wrote Ulysses. It’s a museum now
apparently. The restaurant was a modern décor. We had a choice of
three on a set menu for all courses. I forget what I had as a starter some
kind of pasta I think, but the main course I chose was sea bass was melt
in your mouth good! There was a woman playing the piano during our
meal and she took requests. The sun was starting to go down when we left
there, which made the view across the bay glow with the last bright light
of the day.
Good byes to a few of the group who are leaving tomorrow. We watched
the news for awhile and settled down for the night.
The pot of gold...
Bill never mentioned leprechauns all week. This afternoon, one of
the group asked him why. He delayed answering so long that I imagined he
must be thinking "Damn, and I nearly got through the tour without someone
bringing that up!" Bill told us that the word "Leprechaun" means "little
people" where are shoe makers or cobblers. The origins are hazy but one
theory goes that when the tall, dark, warlike and aggressive Celts invaded,
the natives were small, peaceful folk who lived in ring forts which probably
became the fairy rings of legend. These people seemed to disappear at will
through perhaps they just fled the intimidating invaders. The cute little
leprechauns we see were invented for the English tourists and it just got
out of hand. Now they are out of fashion and considered tacky, Bill informed
us. I agree. Ireland to me is not the cartoon pot of gold and frisky,
naughty little men in green coats. It's a place of Celtic origins, of shamrocks
and a people who are easy going, traditional and open and friendly. And
the beer ain't bad either!
April 13 Dublin and Howth
After a week of getting up early, we slept in just because
we could! The Burlington Hotel had a lovely buffet breakfast and
we lingered over it, enjoying our pot of tea. It’s another sunny day and
we’ve decided to have a walk around Georgian Dublin and then take the DART
out to Howth at the north end of the line.
We set out about 11 and walked the two blocks to the little bridge
across the Grand Canal. I was planning to find that antique store on Baggot
Street again but I guess I got turned around and we ended up missing it
and turned into Fitzwilliam  Square.
This is the square where the house with the most elaborate door “lives”.
I had seen it yesterday on my travels if you will recall. We admired it
and walked on, looking for Merrion Square which is only a few streets away.
The attraction here is mainly, for me, the Oscar Wilde connection in addition
to the lovely architecture. We saw a few lovely old buildings turned into
hotels and the American College on the corner. That’s the house where Wilde
lived before moving to London.
On that intersection, diagonally across and in one building is Greene’s
Bookstore, an establishment of some 200 years standing. There are display
bins of books and postcards outside to browse through and inside the shop
has several floors lined with old wooden shelves and display tables scattered
around. The shop had the kind of atmosphere where you could almost imagine
men in stovepipe hats and Victorian whiskers and women in shirtwaist dresses
with floor length skirts browsing and climbing the staircase, a leather
bound book or two under their arms.
We had a look on the main level where I found a small pocket sized
hardcover biography of Oscar Wilde. It wasn’t his story in any great detail
but it was a very good overview. We also found more of the plastic bookmarks
that were decorated with individual Celtic alphabet letters as inspired
by the Book of Kells. I had bought one at the bookshop in Trinity
and Carole wanted a few for souvenirs. But Carole couldn't find a "W" for
her mother's name. The young clerk said it was because there was no W in
the Irish language. But, wasn't the Book of Kells written in Latin? (it
was) I thought so, and there is no J or K in Latin yet there were
J and K bookmarks. Oh well, anyway, I commented wryly, you could get the
M and tell her to use it upside down! *snicker* I crack myself up sometimes!
:))) Bookmarks and postcards purchased, we walked across the road to the
square.
Just inside the wrought iron fence of Merrion Square is a statue
of Oscar Wilde, depicting him somewhat more slender than is usually seen,
dressed in bright colours, languidly lying back and holding his trademark
flower against a face twisted in a sardonic smirk. The bright colours are
all different kinds of marble I guess, it’s not painted. The statue was
only erected and dedicated about 5 years ago. I won’t go into biographic
details of Mr. Wilde but I’ve always found him a very interesting, flawed
and tragic man, ruined in part due to his own impulsive and stubborn decision
to sue a man for libel which in turn brought out admissions that destroyed
his reputation and his life.
We walked a little ways into the park and saw an area off one path
that seemed to be a little arboretum with different kinds of trees scattered
around a greenspace. Nobody was in there and although there were no signs
preventing you, not at the entrance where we were, it looked like it was
a “keep off the grass” area. The sun kept dipping behind a cloud and we
lost patience waiting for it to beam down through the trees. It just seemed
like that photo *needed* sunshine and shadows.
Along the outside of the fence on the North side of the square were
works displayed by artists, something you are seeing more of lately. It’s
a good place to set up on the weekends with lots of pedestrians walking
past. We walked along the little gallery, chatting to one artist who was
trying very hard to sell us a rather large and ungainly framed painting.
Bit too tricky to carry on the flight as nice as the painting was.
After consulting our little pocket map of Dublin we set off to find
the DART station nearest, Pearce station. We did and joined the queue for
a return ticket and made our way to the platform. The trains go fairly
frequently so we didn’t have too long to wait. We were, however, disappointed
because the train didn’t follow the shoreline of the bay on its’ way north
like it does on the southern route.
Howth is at the last stop. You arrive in an old small train station
with a pub called the Bloody Stream underneath! We walked down the block
towards the waterfront, consulted a large “you are here” map and walked
along the busy road looking for a suitable place for lunch. The first
two places that appealed were either too crowded or too small. We did find
a little place that did ice cream takeaway but had a light lunch menu in
a little room to one side, filled with families. It was a bit noisy but
we found a table and ordered a sandwich. We did have a little translation
problem with the server who was Chinese. The menu said "Pastries... please
ask for what is available" so we did. Blank look. Pastries... Pastries...we
pointed to the menu item. Ah... "Ham and cheese, tuna..." No, no... Pastries!
Point again. Oh right. Got you now. Scones and apple pie. Now we're cooking...
Carole ordered pie and I ordered ice cream. A few minutes later an Irish
server came over to ask what it was we had ordered. She must have had a
translation problem too!
Howth is a fishing town and there weren’t a lot of touristy type
shops at all. A few postcards outside a newsagent was the extent of it
that we saw. It’s a working seaside town with a large marina filled with
pleasure craft. It’s a good place for hiking around the outskirts and has
a nice sea wall where you can walk out around the harbour.
There’s a rocky little island just off the coast here called Ireland’s
Eye.
We walked around the seafront and then headed up into the village
further to see if we could find the ruins of Howth Abbey. The street we
chose had a couple of nice restaurants including one that advertised Russian
food! There was a small sign at the entrance to a narrow alley of stairs
that pointed the way to a restaurant with the promise of a craft/gift shop
which was across from the abbey so up we ascended. The craft shop wasn’t
to our taste but the Abbey was. There was a little cemetery filled with
flower covered graves, and the roofless ruins. There’s a great view
over the harbour from here. We poked around the grounds for a little while
taking pictures and then descended back through the village to the main
road again.
The map seemed to indicate that Howth Castle was a bit out of town
on the main road so we started walking. It was about a mile away I guess
and still there was no signs to which road we should turn in. There was
a sign indicating where the Transport Museum was so we headed up that way,
remembering from the central map that they were close to each other. There
was a pretty church that we passed and then the road turn and we saw a
stone tower. There was the castle! There were quite old parts, that I believe
date from Norman times and some newer parts. However when we were walking
around one side, I spied a propane barbeque in a courtyard which seemed
to indicate perhaps that someone lived there and that it was private property.
There were no signs about entrance fees or hours so I don’t know
if any of the interior can be visited. There wasn’t anyone around so we
didn’t try to find out. Never did see the Transport museum but I think
it was a little further up the road. There’s also quite a breathtaking
rhododendron garden a little farther on but we were too early for most
of the blooms Carole said.
We were getting tired by now so decided to walk back to the train
station and go back into the City to find some place to eat. We got off
the train at Tara street station, which is close to the Liffey and walked
down to the river. I wanted to have a look at the huge domed Custom House
building which is on the North Side. We went across the wide O’Connell
Street bridge where we stopped to look at some jewelry and leather that
a vendor had on display. Up O’Connell Street, where there are many statues
of Irish Independence leaders, and lots of shops and a large department
store, Clery's where we stopped in for a look at the jewelry counter
inside the main door.
The General Post Office building is just there as well, with its
tall pillars, some of which still bear the bullet holes from the 1916 Easter
uprising. There’s another pedestrian shopping area that crosses O’Connell
Street, Henry Street. We didn’t get there today but Carole was there last
week browsing. We also bought some doo-dads in a tourist souvenir shop.
This is a good shopping district for tourists but we really didn’t spend
a lot of time here. By this time we had been out and walking all day and
were footsore and ready for a rest. You lose your enthusiasm for experiencing
the ambience of a place when you can hardly put one foot in front of the
other!
We found a fish and chip shop that wasn’t filled up after trying
a few larger restaurants first. We sat and had our dinner and a restorative
cup of tea. Shall we get a taxi from here or walk across to Temple Bar
and get one from there? The taxi rank on O’Connell street had a long queue
so walk we did. We ended up near Trinity College, thinking we could get
the bus as there was a stop right by the hotel but we waited for about
15 minutes and none of the route numbers that we needed passed us by so
we walked a little further and realized we were at the other end of Grafton
street. We knew there was a taxi rank at St. Stephen’s Green so we went
through Grafton street where many of the shops were now closing for the
day. We stopped in Marks and Spencers to find a toilet and made our way
up to St. Stephens, got a taxi and arrived back at the hotel We arranged
with the concierge for a taxi to the airport tomorrow morning. After consulting
his expertise, we realized the airport shuttle bus wouldn’t be practical
and he’s going to get a taxi to come for us about 5:30. URGH!
Back to our room for an early night. It’s odd that some of the nicest
hotels we’ve been in had no tea and coffee making things in the rooms!
We repacked out suitcases to distribute our clothes and souvenirs. I managed
to get everything to fit so I didn’t have to use the extra fold up carry
on bag I brought.
Last day in Ireland. I knew the time I had in Dublin wasn’t going
to be enough. 2 full days and a few hours of 3 others. The first few days
in a city I always seem to spend walking around covering a lot of ground
and seeing the major sights where possible. But mostly I don’t actually
spend extra time at each place. For instance, although we did go into Christchurch,
we didn’t try to investigate which parts of Dublin Castle were open to
the public nor spend time really browsing in Greene’s bookshop. I wanted
to “see” as much as I could which gives me a “lay of the land” feel. Strictly
tourist.
If I have more time, then I know I can spend a morning in a gallery
or a museum or browse through lots of market stalls instead of just 2 or
3. I can spend a few hours just poking around alleys and churches
in just one small corner of a city. I do start off with a list
of sites I hope to get to see but along the route to the destination, one
always comes across interesting shops or a pretty church or an unexpected
market in a courtyard that needs investigating, especially if you end up
going the long way around because you took a left instead of a right at
that intersection back there. So the next time I come back to Dublin,
I want to browse markets, gape in a gallery, find a small obscure museum,
breakfast at Bewleys and prowl around the O’Connell Street area in more
detail. And whatever else the wrong turn at the intersection reveals.
April 14 Manchester
Carole is flying back to Halifax to day via Heathrow and
she has an early flight. It means she’s got to be at the airport by 6!
My flight is at 9:00 so since I’d have to be there by 8 latest anyway I
figured it was just as easy to go with her when she went and then we could
share a taxi. It was too early for the first airport bus because although
it would have picked us up at the hotel early enough, it had to go round
it’s route before heading to the airport.
We had set the clock for something unGodly and you might know, a
few of the conventioneers seemed intent on having a party in the hall outside
our room. We had tried to go to bed early, about 9, but they were hollering
and laughing. At one point Carole peeked out the door and saw a middle
aged man on the floor with another one trying to drag him along! There
were a few more as well and they had the doors to their rooms open or were
parading back and forth banging on each other’s doors and hollering. Finally
Carole called down to the desk and they sent someone up to ask them to
at least keep their doors shut. It helped some and eventually they settled
down or went out or something.
The taxi we ordered from the concierge yesterday was even a little
early. We dragged ourselves out of bed, checked out and slumped in the
back of the taxi. It was still dark out but the cab driver was pleasant
and we ended up having a laugh by the time we got to the airport. There
was no lineup for my check in to Manchester so I was done right away. Carole’s
check in for London took a bit longer so I went on the hunt for the Customs
office so I could get my papers stamped for the tax free shopping. I should
have brought Carole’s with me, but I wasn’t sure they’d allow it. When
the information desk clerk roused the custom’s worker, he was cranky and
said he was busy. Well, sorreeee, but isn’t this your job? I mentioned
my friend would be coming down soon and he advised me to inform her that
they would be busy for awhile and to wait until 8. I said she’d be on a
plane by then.
Anyway I went back upstairs and told Carole where the office was
and not to mention that we knew each other! Sure enough she came back up
chuckling. He asked if her friend had sent her down so she just replied
innocently “What friend? I’m traveling alone!” and got her paperwork stamped.
He was the first bad tempered Irish person we met on the trip but I guess
he’s just not a morning person!!
There weren’t any restaurants open that early for breakfast but there
was a Butler’s chocolate café where we could at least get a cup
of tea and a croissant. She went off to her gate and I went looking for
the general area mine would be. I had about ¾ hour wait before the
gate was identified and boarded. The flight back to Manchester was lovely.
Again I’m impressed by Aer Lingus and the flight attendants.
Manchester was gray and overcast. I got my luggage and hunted for
the hotel courtesy shuttle. Discovered I had to call them for it but was
given instructions from the information desk clerks and was picked up in
due time and ferried over to the Hilton Manchester Airport. I had got a
good rate off the net, seeing as it was Sunday night I would think. £60
including a full breakfast. That’s not bad at all for an airport hotel
and a Hilton on top of that! I was also able to check in right away. Bonus!
Room is very nice, everything you’d expect of a Hilton. Mini bar
as well but of course with accompanying scandalous prices! I rang Alan
and we arranged to meet later on at Lass O’Gowrie’s for around 4 as I wanted
some alone time to shop and check into the Easy Everything cyber stop in
St. Ann’s Square. Ok, that’s sad, I know, I’ll be home tomorrow! But it’s
also a way to wind down and relax after the week touring. Lunch first and
why not have it at the hotel? Why not indeed? I sought out the bar and
got a burger and chips and a nice hot cuppa. Seemed odd to hear English
accents of various regions instead of Irish! I know there are regional
Irish accents but they don’t seem to be as pronounced to my ear from what
little experience I had in the past week or so. More research time in Ireland
I think!
I walked across the motorway to the train station only to find that
the train wasn’t on today. They were working on the track but they had
a special express bus direct into Picadilly all day. All righty. We were
let off behind the train station and I was a bit disoriented as to where
I was but I kept walking in a straight line and found my way around the
front and then I knew where I was. Over into Piccadilly Gardens, I noticed
a fair number of police around. Seemed odd for a Sunday. Apparently they
up the security presence as a precaution when there’s a Manchester United
game on as there are lots of crowds around before and after the matches.
First stop was Easy Everything. Got all caught up with email and
surfing my usual sites and bulletin boards. I decided to run back over
to the Arndale Center and check out Evans, my favourite clothing store
but didn’t see anything that struck my fancy there. Popped in to the Ecco
shoe shop and Past Times and wandered over to Waterstone’s but not before
having a chocolate shopping experience in Thornton’s! I *love* their toffee
and the chocolate that has the toffee bits in it!!!!
By this time it was nearing 4 and I was pretty sure I had a fair
distance to walk to Charles Street so I took a cab. I settled down on a
bar stool with a Stella to wait. The football match was on telly but I
pulled out my book and read a bit until Alan arrived. We found a comfy
seat in the back room away from the worst of the noise of the telly and
Annie arrived soon after. We had a drink and discussed where to have a
bite to eat. Annie had a great suggestion, there are a few restaurants
along Canal street in the Gay Village area that she knew were pretty good,
although only had been to one of the more expensive ones. It’s an area
that really hops at night when the clubs are open and even under gray skies
and a spit or two of rain, it looked like a nice street alongside one of
Manchester’s canals. Mardi gras is held here every August and I’m told
the place is heaving with people, celebrations, bright colours and lively
music! Something to check out if you’re in the area!
We picked a restaurant called Taurus and were very glad we did. It
had couches around low tables, a little alcove that could seat about 6
and a few other tables and chairs around. The décor was modern with
some interesting sculpture framed on the walls and cool blues and reds
and greens covering surfaces. The food was reasonably priced and it was
really tasty. I had a mushroom soup and a tuna baguette melt. The service
was good and later, a man came over to chat. Not sure if he was the manager
or owner (or both!) but had heard my accent and once clarified that it
was Canadian, was full of questions about where I was from. It’s congeniality
like that that makes you enjoy a restaurant even more, you feel welcome
and appreciated for your custom and you definitely want to return in the
future.
Well, it was getting later and I decided it was time to get back
to the hotel, relax and get ready for the flight tomorrow. Alan and Annie
walked me to the end of the road which happened to come out right at the
train station! Quel Surprise! That’s why Annie suggested it, because it
was handy for the train and not far from the bus station for them. More
hugs, a lump in my throat and a leaky eye to contend with as the last layers
were peeled away, somewhat painfully. I got the bus back to the hotel and
watched the tv for a bit. Made sure everything was packed and secure and
took out what I wanted to wear tomorrow. The end of another trip. It seems
increasingly difficult to come back down to reality after each one!
April 15 And home
The Hilton’s buffet breakfast was brilliant!!! Aside from
the usual eggs, bacon, sausage, black and white pudding, toast, cereal,
they also had baked goods, loads of fresh fruit, yogurt, oatmeal and EGGS
BENEDICT! Wahoo! Fruit, toast, (hmmm did I have sausage? I may have) and
Eggs Benny for me! Lots of tea and some juice and I’m set for the day.
The flight to Toronto was pretty full as I figured it would be. Unfortunately
I was seated one row back from the bulkhead where two sisters where in
situ with their small children. One of the children, about 20 months old
was fussy and fractious and aside from about an hour nap, whinged and cried
most of the time. But it turns out the baby was sick, with a cold, and
an ear infection. What was more frustrating than the poor sick child was
that the mother was totally unsympathetic to him. He was cranky and would
smack her and sometimes other passengers, just on the arm or leg and not
that hard. Mostly his mother though and all she could do was holler at
him and tell him he was naughty when all that child needed was to be cuddled
and rocked and soothed. And how does she teach him that smacking is wrong?
By smacking him back of course!
Anyway. The film was Gosford Park which was enjoyable even though
I’ve seen it already and the food was the usual airline fare. Not bad I
guess. Got through customs in Toronto without too much fuss though I did
report that I had been on a farm in Ireland. They flagged my landing card
but they let me through with no more than a question about if I was going
to be on a farm in Canada which I wasn’t. Through the tunnels to the domestic
terminal. I had scheduled my connecting flight to Halifax for 5 p.m. which
meant I had several hours to kill. I had a bit to eat after sussing out
a bank machine to get some Canadian cash and read until the flight was
boarded. The flight was smooth, not too crowded and got in to Halifax under
cold and rainy skies. I think I’d much rather go through Heathrow and direct
to Halifax when possible though from now on because it really made for
a long day traveling.
As always it’s good to sleep in my own bed surrounded by my own things.
I hate to come home in a way because I so enjoy seeing new places and spending
time with friends that I don’t see very often. Again, another place
I want to go back to and a quandary, what about seeing new places? Well
Rose suggested an international Ping next year in Amsterdam. That would
cover all bases wouldn’t it? Wonder what size I take in a wooden shoe?
Photo albums
Manchester
and Dublin pings
Views
of Dublin and Howth
Ireland(including
Manchester area photos)
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