honeymoon, day three

It was Wednesday, June 13. I awoke to daylight streaming through our window at Camden Court Hotel and wondered what time it was. Flipping on the television, I found the BBC and the clock read 5:40 am. That can't be right, I thought. It's too light outside to be that early. The time must be different in England. I called down to the wake-up call service and asked for a wake-up call around 9:00 (I think) so we wouldn't miss breakfast. Then I asked what time it was at the moment. "Twenty of six, miss," the man on the other end of the line said. England and Ireland were on the same time, then. It was just really, really bright. I pulled the curtains shut and went back to sleep. I was later to find out that, coming so close to time for the summer solstice as we were, we were hitting Ireland in its longest hours of daylight. It didn't get dark until about 10:30 pm, and it got light again around 5:00 am. That's fine, but when you don't have a watch or clock to tell you what time it is when you wake up at night (as is my habit), it gets a little confusing to have so few hours of darkness.

When we did get up, Al and I went down and experienced our first "Irish Breakfast," with which we grew quite familiar over the next few days. Apparently, the Irish don't believe in much variety for breakfast. My suspicions about this were confirmed later in the trip by Al's cousin, Daragh, who said he wished they could get pancakes in Ireland. His mother, Patricia, explained that not many places make a big deal about breakfast. Our breakfast consisted of a continental breakfast bar--bread (with which you could make toast), croissants, scones (but heavier--more dense--than scones you get in bakeries over here--ours are more like desserts, theirs are more like rocks), fruit, and an assortment of cereals. Just your typical continental breakfast. But then there was the hot breakfast--fried or scrambled eggs, tomatoes cut in half and grilled, poached, or otherwise warmed up, sausage, hashbrowns, "pudding" (nothing like ours--I have no idea how you eat the stuff), oatmeal, and "rashers"--bacon that is thick slabs of chewy stuff. Nothing like the crispy bacon I love--what they call "streaky bacon." And the ever-present tea or coffee, of course (they seem to push the tea).

After breakfast, we set out to find a bus--the "Hop On Hop Off City Tour" bus with live commentary on all tours. It's just like it sounds--you pay one price (14 Euro, in our case) and for the next twenty-four hours, you can hop on and off the bus as you please. They go to all the major sites in Dublin and tell you about the city as you drive along. We picked up the bus around stop 9 of 21 stops, and decided to ride it through before getting off and going to Dublin Castle and then to the Guiness Warehouse. Al's cousin Patricia recommended the castle; we wanted the Guiness. As we boarded the bus, the driver said, "Upstairs," and up we went. It was raining, and only the first two rows of seats up top were covered. I'm sure it was uncovered to help with the picture-taking, but in Ireland, where it rains more than the sun shines, I'm not sure that was the wisest choice. We started to sit and someone else left, so we grabbed their dry seats and managed to stay minimally dry. And the commentary by our first bus driver was quite lively--he even sang songs in the midst of telling stories.

Before I get to Dublin Castle, let me tell you everything else we passed on doing since we only had limited time in Dublin: Trinity College, where they keep the Book of Kells (an old copy of part of the Bible that monks copied down and did some fancy artwork on); the Temple Bar district, which we actually walked through later that night, but Al and Patricia didn't want to get a drink because they thought it was too crowded and noisy--I thought it was excited and was very disappointed and a little bit bitter that we didn't get to stay (hey, it was my honeymoon, not his cousin's, but I didn't want to be rude, either); Christ Church Cathedral and St. Patrick's Cathedral; the museums; and this great-looking park called Phoenix Park on the outskirts of town.

There. Now, Dublin Castle. Dublin Castle was built around and over the remains of a Norman fortress, which itself was built over Viking defenses. It is currently the seat of Irish government--their presidents get inaugurated in St. Patrick's Hall within the castle--and it was the seat of British rule in Ireland when the Brits were in charge. It was a typical tour, walking through roped-off rooms that didn't allow you to see too much, but the tour guide did tell us an amusing story about the Lady Liberty statue above one if the castle gates. He said it is a joke to the Irish, since her back is facing the city--Lady Liberty faces in towards the castle and the seat of power for the government. In addition, she holds a pair of scales in one hand, and whenever it would rain (quite often, of course), the scales would fill with rain and tip. They have since rectified that problem by drilling holes in the bottom of the scales for the water to drain out. Third, though, I guess most statues of this sort either are blindfolded or have their eyes closed--a "liberty and justice for all" sort-of thing. Not this one. Her eyes are wide open.

After the castle, we hopped back on the bus and headed for the Guiness Warehouse and St. James Brewery. It is, of course, the typical tourist trap, but that doesn't make it any less fun. It's got seven stories, and you work your way through the warehouse on your own, story by story, until you reach the top. If you take the time, you can find out all about making stout (we didn't, although we read/watched some of the info/videos they had around). There is a waterfall, some huge old copper vats, a lot of the machinery that they used to make the stout from, some barrells with an informational video showing how they used to make them by hand and without measuring tools, a section for advertising, and even a floor where you can try your hand at pouring your own pint. The top floor is a circular bar, where you redeem a plastic blue ring for your very own pint and get to look out through glass walls on the city of Dublin. My bartender put a shamrock design in the foam on top of my Guiness.

Guiness didn't end the day for us; by the time we got out of there, it was only about 4:30. We hopped back on the bus and got caught in a traffic jam. The traffic in Dublin, by the way, is horrific. Narrow streets, double-decker busses, hundreds of small cars, motorcycles, bikes, and pedestrians--and they all cram up next to each other, get in each other's way, and act like they're the only ones on the roads. We hopped off the bus early and took a walk towards the area we were going to meet Patricia for dinner, and as we did so, we walked through the hotel owned by Bono (U2), The Clarence Hotel. It, and the bar within it, The Octagon, were a bit of a disappointment. Pretty small and pretty dead. It was a Wednesday afternoon, though, and expensive since Bono got his hands on it. Right after that was our first pass through the Temple Bar district, and there were so many cute little pubs with flowers set on the second-floor window sills. It was picture-perfect with the brick streets, pedestrians, and all of the color--but I didn't take a picture. I was sure we'd come back, and we did--for about two seconds, not quick enough for a pic, nevermind a pint. Ugh.

We met Patricia at a French restaurant called Sixty-6 (something like that) and experienced our first uber-expensive meal in Ireland. I was a bit surprised when Al said we were going French--here we were in Ireland, and all I wanted was fish and chips. I knew I wasn't getting that at a French restaurant, but that's okay. I knew I would make do, and I did. I had veal milanese (it was huge) and Al and Patricia both had sirloin steaks with fries. And here an obsession started: they served the fries in buckets with garlic mayo. I knew the french ate fries with mayo instead of ketchup, and used to eat them like that with Julie, but hadn't done it in a while. But after those fries and that mayo--both scrumptious--I craved mayo with fries for the rest of the trip. I never got garlic mayo again, but no more ketchup for me. I'm a mayo fan.

I know I keep talking about food, but I don't really remember much about our conversation with Patricia. We told her what we wanted to do/see while we were there and she flat-out said we wouldn't be able to do it all, and I was a bit miffed. Don't tell me what I can and can't do on my honeymoon! Especially if it's because we have to see more family in the middle of the week and they aren't located in a convenient spot for the rest of what we wanted to do! Of course, I didn't say this, and I tried not to have too much of my disappointment show with Al later, either. I did remind him, though, that this was our honeymoon--yeah, his family was here, but it wasn't a family vacation. I wanted time alone with him, and I wanted to do what we wanted, not what the family thought we should do. I know, I'm sounding selfish right now, but it all worked out great in the end, and I love his family, so don't be too hard on me. That's just what I felt at the time.

We decided to get a drink with Patricia after dinner, but that was already after we had walked halfway to our hotel. I mentioned that I liked Temple Bar district, so off we went. But I already told you what happened there: we entered one pub, walked all the way through it, and Al and Patricia decided it was too crowded and too noisy to visit so we walked right back out and away from Temple Bar district. Grrr. I tried to calm myself down by telling myself that after we dropped off Patricia, we could go back. But we walked and bussed all the way back to our hotel, Al and I had beers while she had a lemon soda, I felt pressured to make a decision (by them) about what we were going to do with the remainder of our trip (which I didn't want to discuss in front of Patricia), and then Patricia went to the bus to go back to her car, all the way on the opposite side of Dublin. ??? Why didn't we just walk her towards her car and then have a pint? Don't know. I thought her car was by our hotel, and that was a misunderstanding. Didn't get to go back to Temple Bar district, but we did spend quite a while on the internet and figured out what we would do for the rest of the trip, which you'll have to wait to find out, because after we were finished, we fell into bed, exhausted...

Photo 1: Al and I on steps in a curtain wall at the Undercroft, underneath Dublin Castle. The Undercroft is a chamber with ruins dating back to Viking and Norman times (900 - 1200 A.D.).

Photo 2: Al and I in St. Patrick's Hall, Dublin Castle.

Photo 3: Al and I in the top floor of Guiness Warehouse. Behind us is a view of Dublin (not a mural).

Photo 4: A shamrock in my Guiness.

honeymoon day two

I'm ready! I'm ready! I'm ready!

Those of you who are Spongebob fans may recognize my little cheer there. Hey, I have to get myself psyched up to write about something happy after this morning. So here I am, ready to tell you about honeymoon, day two.

I awoke on the plane to Paris and stretched, but something went wrong. My left calf cramped like it had never cramped before. Just from a stretch! I tried to rub it out like I was taught to during lifeguarding lessons at the Garden City pool, all those years ago (just about the only knowledge and/or skill I retained from those days, since I don't really like to swim anymore), and thought I was successful. I got up to walk the ten steps to the bathroom and almost fell over. My, that hurt. It did for a day or so afterward, too. But enough about my leg.

As I said yesterday, I'm kind-of hazy on the breakfast thing. I think I was tired, not hungry, or didn't like the food, but I didn't eat it. Al did, watching his movies all the while. He hadn't slept a wink, even in the dark cabin with the stretch-out-so-you're-almost-lying-down comfy seats that we had. When we landed in Paris, it was around 9:00 am local time and our plane was at 10:00 something. In Detroit they had told us to get our boarding passes from Paris to Dublin in Paris, so off to the ticket counter we went.

Screeching halt. We went to the ticket counter and immediately knew something was wrong, because the clerk started speaking to her supervisor in French. My two years of high school French didn't allow me to follow the conversation very well (at all). Finally, she turned to us and told us, "Yes, they told you you'll be on the 10:00ish flight, but they didn't book you on it and there aren't any business class seats left. You'd have to fly coach. You'd also have to go through customs and then run across the airport, because that flight is boarding in a few minutes. Do you want to do that, or do you want to wait until a 2:00 flight?"

Ugh. Stupid Northwest. I thought about my leg, still hurting whenever I put a lot of pressure on it. Run? Across an airport? And what if we got held up in customs? Al was thinking we didn't want to take a chance either, so we opted for the later flight. That's how we ended spending four hours sitting around in an airport in Paris. We read, we people-watched, we looked around in shops, but why buy a Paris souvenir when all you see is the airport? To me, airports are neutral territory if you never leave them. Non-countries. No, I was never in France. Just in an airport and a plane in France, which is different. Anyway. I managed to order my lunch en francais, with the correct pronunciation and all--and the guy behind the counter understood me, and I understood him. Yay, high-school French!

In the Paris airport, police walk around in threes and greet each other when they see another group. The men shake hands politely, the women (and men greeting women) take hold of each other with both hands and kiss each other lightly on both cheeks. The Paris airport also has young military lads walking around in groups wearing camouflage and carrying large guns. Are the French at war? That's something I've never seen in Detroit--or Chicago, or Newark, and definitely not in my little college town.

We finally boarded the plane to Dublin, and by this time I was looking and feeling rather greasy and wiped out. It ended up being a tiny, old plane and the "business class" was a three-seater row shared by two people instead of three. How generous of them. They offered us champaigne, vodka, or orange juice. I wanted the vodka and orange juice, but just took the juice and promptly fell asleep. I woke up after the meal was served and gone. The flight attendant offered me a meal then, but Al said it wasn't very good, so I declined and watched out the window, which is when I took this picture. I awoke when we were flying over part of England and then on to Ireland. We weren't very high, and it was beautiful. By the time we landed--at 3:30ish, I was ready to get off the plane and excited for the real honeymoon to begin. But even though I was ready, the honeymoon wasn't.

Ugh. We waited fifty minutes for the bus that the lady at the ticket counter said would take us where we were going. When we got on, we had to go to the upper deck and sat in the front at the window. There was no air conditioning, and since it was one of their sunny-ish days, it was fairly hot. We didn't fit with us and our luggage in one row, so we sat in rows across from each other. Then a woman asked if she could sit next to me, and of course I said yes. I knew Al was already frustrated, because our destination wasn't even on the bus map and the bus driver told us it would take at least an hour to get there--we were stopping at every stop along the way. And it did take an hour, maybe more. But there weren't clear postings on the streets that corresponded to the map, so we had no idea where to get off. We asked the lady next to me; she didn't know, but another woman was kind enough to tell us we still had a "longish way to go--about twenty minutes" and told us what to look for. By the time we got to the hotel (Camden Court Hotel), it was 5:30 pm and we were pretty beat--we had been travelling for about 24 hours.

After we checked in, Al called his cousin, Patricia. We were meant to arrive in Dublin at 5:30 am, which would have given us all day to mosey around and then meet up with her for dinner. But our twelve-hour delay had worn us out, so we decided we'd just find a place to eat by ourselves and meet up with her the next day. The only problem was that we'd miss seeing her sons, Sean and Daragh, who we'd met last year (we took them to Cedar Point, and they are still convinced it is the best place in the world). I took a shower and asked if we could take a nap before eating. Al didn't want to, but since he laid down while I was showering, he was in need of a nap. I ended up staying up, afraid that neither one of us would wake up if we both fell to sleep--there was no clock in the room, and our phones weren't working, so I couldn't set an alarm. We went out to find something to eat around 7:30 or 8:00, and were surprised to discover that many places don't serve food at all--pubs are just pubs, drinking establishments, and if they do serve food, it's only between certain hours and we were too late. We ended up eating six-inch tall burgers at a place called Bobo's Gourmet Irish Burgers. They were pretty good, and the onion rings--served with mayo, french style--were the best I've ever had. Yummy! (No weight-watching on the honeymoon, I'm afraid.)

Back to the hotel room, stifling hot with no air-conditioning and only an open window to try to stave off the humidity from the previous week ("the weather was great last week!" everyone kept telling us), we fell fast asleep...

To be continued tomorrow

ahh...the honeymoon (day one)

Two weeks ago today (June 11), at this very moment, Al, Dana, dad and I were in my car headed to Detroit Metro Airport. Dana was flying back home to Colorado, and Al and I were off to our honeymoon in Ireland--a nine-night trip that we were really looking forward to. Dana's flight, unfortunately, wasn't until about 6:00 or 7:00 that night, but Al and I were to be off at 3:00 - or so we thought.

Dad dropped us off at the airport around 1:00, and Al and I headed to the ticket counter to check in and drop off our luggage. We were to fly to Boston and then head out to Dublin from there. We got up to the window and the Northwest clerk informed us, "You're not going to Boston. You're going to Paris. Your flight has been cancelled. You'll be flying Air France instead of Northwest and Aer Lingus."

Paris?? That didn't sound bad to me, and I actually hoped for some sort of a layover so we could get out of the airport, but it was a no-go. Then the bad news: "Your flight doesn't leave until 7:00 pm." Ugh. Then the good news: "We've bumped you up to business class, and we'll give you each $20 food vouchers to use in the airport while you wait." Business class? Just as good as first class--yippee! Sounded good to me, except for the waiting. We couldn't even check in for another two hours, so we went to the airport hotel, got Diet Pepsi, and watched television while we waited for 3:00 to roll around.

When 3:00 came, we were able to both check in and meet up with Al's brother, Mike, and our sister-in-law, Kim, and their son/our nephew, Aidan. We decided we'd all hook up once we had checked our luggage and cleared security, since we both had a bit of waiting time ahead of us. Then Al and I got up to the counter: "That's funny, they didn't actually reserve seats for you or book you on this flight." Ugh. I pointed out the clerk who had helped us at Northwest, and they figured it out and got us on the plane to France. Good news: "You're in business class..." bad news: "but you're not sitting together. Sorry. Maybe someone will switch seats with you." As we walked away from the counter, I almost started crying. A six-hour flight to Paris, on my honeymoon, and I may not be able to sit next to my new husband? "It'll work out," Al said, and calmed me down.

We got through security and found Mike, Kim, and Aidan waiting for us by the fountain, which was on--a first since I've been traveling through that terminal. We visted with them until it was time for us to board our plane, since their plane back to New York had also been delayed--they had a plane, but no pilot (also Northwest--see a pattern here?). Then we boarded, and let me tell you--there is nothing like business class (as far as I know, there was no "first class" on this flight--I think it was all "business") on an international flight. Big comfy chairs that recline and have foot rests, so that you can practically lay flat, and lots and lots of space for each person. But first we had to figure out seating. I was seated by the window in the fifth row (I think), which was right behind the bathroom, thus giving me extra extra leg room on top of what was already there. Al was seated directly behind me. The first person to arrive was the person seated next to me, and he refused to switch seats with Al. Big old meanie. I anxiously awaited Al's seat-mate to arrive, moping, and hoping and praying that he would agree to take my seat. The flight attendant knew of our plight and checked in on us every once in a while, wanting to make sure we could get seated together. The next man said yes! I moved to my seat next to Al and our journey began.

As soon as we were moving, I was given champaigne (Al refused it). Next thing I know, I'm being offered red wine, and how could I refuse a nice Bordeaux--especially since I was flying a French airline? I had two glasses of wine, which complemented my orange ruffy with rice pilaf (my dinner) nicely. Al watched movie after movie after movie, and I enjoyed my short trips to our business-class private bathroom, decked out with Evian facial refreshers. I might have read for a while, but they soon asked us to pull down our shades, because it was getting dark and people would like to sleep. I pulled out the nice blanket they provided, stretched out on my comfy chair, and slept/dozed for the rest of the trip. They served breakfast in the "morning"--it came very, very quickly since we lost five hours--but I wasn't hungry, so didn't really eat and don't remember what it was.

Thus ends day one of the honeymoon, of which, unfortunately, we don't have any pictures. Stay tuned for details on the honeymoon day two, coming tomorrow.

i'm married!

Two weeks ago today--in fact, at this very time of day, I married the love of my life, Alan. The day was gorgeous, and despite a snafu with the ceremony site (it was double-booked, meaning there was another wedding there and we got relegated to a small corner under some trees, thus limiting our photo opportunities), the ceremony itself was short, meaningful, enjoyable, lovely--everything I imagined. My good friend Tony was our minister, and as I walked down the "aisle" (across the lawn) with my father I saw friends and family smiling and Al tearing up as he waited for me. We both remembered all of the words to our memorized vows, and said them to each other with heartfelt love. It was--for me, at least--a dream come true (sappy, I know, but true).

A few memories I have of that day:

Getting ready at home with my friends and family surrounding me--Michelle doing my hair, Dana sitting by me while we did our makeup and she did her hair, mom and dad taking us all to breakfast at Honeytree, and having fun with the photo session when John, our photographer, arrived.

Walking down the street to the pub, where we had our reception, and having cars drive by honking with their drivers smiling, waving and obviously wishing us well.

Walking up the stairs and into the pub waiting for my brother, Ryan, to announce us, and having our friends Ethie and Log "discover" us and start yelling down to us.

Not knowing how to cut the cake.

Telling mom and dad who each of our friends were when they passed our table filling their own plates at the buffet (which worked, but I thought the buffet would be on the bar and my family would be seated right up close to the stage/head table...that's okay).

Not even noticing half the time when people were clinking the glasses asking us to kiss (wait a minute--that was for us???).

Feeling like extremely untalented dancers as our four-minute song, "Sweetest Day" by Control Freq, droned on and we just twirled around in circles.

Feeling pressured to visit everyone, but feeling like I didn't have much time with anyone, especially my new husband.

Desperately wanting people to be involved when our entertainer came on, and volunteering to sing myself when all of my friends let me down--and to a song I'd long forgotten, and then feeling like an idiot when the song kept going and I was a horrible, horrible singer.

Loving Al's courage and humor when he got pulled up on stage to sing.

Dancing with Ruthie. Having several of my male friends tell me how gorgeous my friend Ruthann is. (I know.)

Dana getting up on stage and talking to me, then singing a solo.

Dancing with Danny.

Looking at my pictures with David, then beging pulled away to have the guys sing Bon Jovi for me, with Del pointing at me the entire time. (I felt so loved.)

Stopping to look, just as Heather said I should, to try to take it all in. I don't remember what was going on at the moment, though! :)

Being so happy that Ruthie, Nikki, Dana and David got along so well that Dana hung out with them for the rest of the night.

Hoping my family members were enjoying themselves--where were my crazy, lively, dancing family members?

Being a bit disappointed (and hurt) that some of the friends I thought would be most active/involved when it came to dancing/interacting didn't seem interested in spending time celebrating with me at all. Were they mad? Feeling neglected? Just too drunk or involved in themselves to care? I don't know, but I hope I forget this feeling over time. I wanted everyone to enjoy the day, and to enjoy it with me, and it bothers me that they may not have.

Coming home and being locked out of the house, because our friends had broken in, turned all of our furniture upside down, deposited a blow-up doll in our bed, and generously locked the door leading to the garage (which we had left unlocked, and were planning on going in through). We had to go to my brother's apartment and pick up the key to get back in the house.

It was a gorgeous day, I had a handsome groom, and it was a fun, unique wedding. I loved it and, if you were there, hope you did too!