Day 2,is it?

Day 2, is it?

I’ve lost all track of time. I know that I left Austin on Saturday morning, left Newark almost an hour late on Saturday night, and got to Shannon airport on Sunday morning at 7am Ireland time (1am Austin time). The day or is it two days, have been long. It is now 10:13pm on Sunday and only 4:13 pm back home.

There was a large group of us who were shuffled, lined up, documents checked, and then told that the plane was delayed. It was at the airport but first the crew wasn’t there, then there was more paperwork to be done due to the gate change, and finally the mechanics had to get on board. I tried to ignore the last one since I’m not sure if mechanics are always called on or if it is only when there is a problem. I managed to charge my computer while sharing the outlet with a very nice Irish gentleman from San Antonio. We talked for a while and he laughed at my, “optimism of youth” for believing that we would make it off the tar sometime that night. He had a very upbeat pessimism.

The plane from Newark wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great either but I made it through with the help of a Tylenol PM. I have an awful time sleeping on planes and, knowing what this day had in store, I figured I’d get a little help sleeping. I managed to get just about two hours of sleep. I’m not sure if this is because of the pill or due to the fact that the plane was playing “Oceans 13” and I have no interest in watching it. Anyhow, I can thank Tylenol or Clooney for my bit of rest.

Again on this flight, I was lucky enough to have a seat in between me and the other person in my row. I worked on trying to sleep as did he so there was no conversation to be had between the two of us. Dinner came and since I ordered vegan, I was fed first. Something India and hot. I was so hungry I may have not even noticed if someone had slipped in chicken in the mix. I feel in and out of sleep until about 5:30 am Ireland time when I kept looking out the window wanting to see the sun rise. There it was- Ireland. I was too tired to be completely enthusiastic but I was happy. We landed, I grabbed my luggage, and then hopped the bus to Ennis in a small bit of cold drizzle. The bus clock ticked 19:43 though it was 8:04 but here that wouldn’t be much of an issue. The bus intercom announced, “Stand clear- luggage doors opening” in a voice that reminded me of the main character from the series “Black Books” (you may not know that series but the main character has a thick, thick Irish accent sprinkled with whiskey inflections) as a few more people stored their heavy bags underneath. I watched the towns to by from the bus window noticing that many of the apartments had clothing drying on a line on the balcony. I have to wonder how long it must take for it to dry since the weather is either raining or perpetually hinting of rain.

I arrived in Ennis, asked directions to The Old Ground Hotel from a nice older gentleman who offered me a lift. He seemed to really enjoy the idea that I wanted to walk so that I could take in the air and wished me well on my trip. It was only about a 5 minute walk. It could have been much shorter but I was pulling my 42 pound monstrous green suitcase across the sidewalks. I also had to stop and take a picture of a few things as I went: the garbage recycle cans with a neat cartoonish bear, the stone foxes guarding the entrance to a street, and of course, the extremely large black bird. For real, these birds are huge! They could certainly give Mr. Furley a run for his turkey dinner in the weight department.

I made it to the hotel and had 3.5 hours until I needed to meet my group. I had the front desk hold my bags and I went out for a walk around the town of Ennis. I passed a beautiful Catholic Church right before mass was to begin. I later went in it after mass and said a little prayer for my family, loved ones, and fellow travelers. I walked around for a while and then went back to the hotel for a cup of tea. The Old Ground Hotel was built in the early 18^th century as a private home. The home was later leased to a man for “three lives”. It was passed eventually to that man’s great nephew and when he arrived, an old retainer greeted him with, “You are welcome to the Old Ground, Sir”. He was so taken with the sincerity of the statement that he then named the home “The Old Ground”. In 1895, Jane McNamara turned it into a hotel.

----- and so concludes what I've written that actually makes sense so far. I'll try and do a massive picture posting now but I cant promise. Love to all!