To Ireland
Sunday and Monday, October 16 and 17, 2005
After a 40-minute wait on the tarmac while the crew counted and recounted the number of passengers, American Airlines flight 212 took to the sky shortly before 10:00 PM.
I had the window seat in a row occupied by a group of five. The mother and her son – who could hardly wait for his Tuesday Birthday in Ireland – were on my side of the aisle. An 18 year resident of Maine, Mary was returning with her family to her County Mayo home.
After a quick meal, I attempted to get some sleep – an objective partially thwarted as the sticker under my window explained that “FAA regulations require that the seat recline be restricted to ensure that the emergency exit is kept clear.” A little over 3 hours later I was awakened as the crew handed out snack boxes consisting of Wheat thins, peanut butter, strawberry jam, raisins and a fig-newtons. We were informed that we would be arriving in Shannon in about an hour and that the local time was now 7:15 AM.
I witnessed a fast forward sunrise as our high-speed easterly progress accelerated the transition from dark, to dawn to morning. I had left 7 days of rain in Massachusetts and the forecast was for seven days of rain in Ireland. We sailed over thick white moisture filled clouds. Then through a break Ireland appeared below us. While the images have been conveyed by many it is still wondrous to see this land that is divided by stone walls into an endless variety of roughly rectangular patches each miraculously a slightly different shade of green than all its neighbors. Even the small islands have not escaped this patchwork cloak.
Mary tells her son we are flying over the River Shannon. It strikes somehow, that River Shannon and County Clare roll off Mary’s tongue yet somehow at home River Shawsheen and County Essex would have a dissident sound. As we approach the airport sheep graze peacefully below us.
The plane lands at 8:15 AM IST (which is the same as GMT and the same as 3:15 EDT!), we made up half the delay in-route. A fellow traveler suggests I forgo the currency exchange window (Euros) and instead use the bank machines where I will get a better rate. With baggage in tow I am soon bused to the Hertz parking area. The attendant asks if the economy car I have rented is large enough (it is) and if I can drive a stick shift (I can). I hadn’t really thought about driving here. It did occur to me that they likely drive on the left instead of the right but with my work trips to the British Virgin Islands I am used to that. What I had not thought about is that unlike the BVI, the cars here also have the steering wheel on the right. It will take some time getting used to shifting with my left hand and checking traffic behind me by looking up to the left and down to the right. One other problem – they are out of maps. It is a good thing I have some that I printed from MapQuest but I will need better.
As I leave the airport at 10:00 am, it is clear that Ireland is a land of roundabouts – some very small. I think about the folks who have visited New England from the mid-west and been baffled by these – we have few in comparison. It is odd going clockwise instead of counter-clockwise. I stop at a gas station for cash from the ATM, a map and a Vanilla Coke. I know my body thinks it is only 5:00 AM but I need some caffeine.
The sun is shinning through some clouds and finally I am headed towards my first destination: my grandfather’s boyhood home of Tuam, Galway. A two to three hour drive over rolling hills, passing through small Victorian style roadside towns dressed in bright colors, passing by cows and black-faced sheep and more cows, and occasionally a few horses. Seeing sign after sign, I begin to wonder if every fifth house or farm isn’t a Bed and Breakfast. As lunch time approaches, I approach Tuam.
After a 40-minute wait on the tarmac while the crew counted and recounted the number of passengers, American Airlines flight 212 took to the sky shortly before 10:00 PM.
I had the window seat in a row occupied by a group of five. The mother and her son – who could hardly wait for his Tuesday Birthday in Ireland – were on my side of the aisle. An 18 year resident of Maine, Mary was returning with her family to her County Mayo home.
After a quick meal, I attempted to get some sleep – an objective partially thwarted as the sticker under my window explained that “FAA regulations require that the seat recline be restricted to ensure that the emergency exit is kept clear.” A little over 3 hours later I was awakened as the crew handed out snack boxes consisting of Wheat thins, peanut butter, strawberry jam, raisins and a fig-newtons. We were informed that we would be arriving in Shannon in about an hour and that the local time was now 7:15 AM.
I witnessed a fast forward sunrise as our high-speed easterly progress accelerated the transition from dark, to dawn to morning. I had left 7 days of rain in Massachusetts and the forecast was for seven days of rain in Ireland. We sailed over thick white moisture filled clouds. Then through a break Ireland appeared below us. While the images have been conveyed by many it is still wondrous to see this land that is divided by stone walls into an endless variety of roughly rectangular patches each miraculously a slightly different shade of green than all its neighbors. Even the small islands have not escaped this patchwork cloak.
Mary tells her son we are flying over the River Shannon. It strikes somehow, that River Shannon and County Clare roll off Mary’s tongue yet somehow at home River Shawsheen and County Essex would have a dissident sound. As we approach the airport sheep graze peacefully below us.
The plane lands at 8:15 AM IST (which is the same as GMT and the same as 3:15 EDT!), we made up half the delay in-route. A fellow traveler suggests I forgo the currency exchange window (Euros) and instead use the bank machines where I will get a better rate. With baggage in tow I am soon bused to the Hertz parking area. The attendant asks if the economy car I have rented is large enough (it is) and if I can drive a stick shift (I can). I hadn’t really thought about driving here. It did occur to me that they likely drive on the left instead of the right but with my work trips to the British Virgin Islands I am used to that. What I had not thought about is that unlike the BVI, the cars here also have the steering wheel on the right. It will take some time getting used to shifting with my left hand and checking traffic behind me by looking up to the left and down to the right. One other problem – they are out of maps. It is a good thing I have some that I printed from MapQuest but I will need better.
As I leave the airport at 10:00 am, it is clear that Ireland is a land of roundabouts – some very small. I think about the folks who have visited New England from the mid-west and been baffled by these – we have few in comparison. It is odd going clockwise instead of counter-clockwise. I stop at a gas station for cash from the ATM, a map and a Vanilla Coke. I know my body thinks it is only 5:00 AM but I need some caffeine.
The sun is shinning through some clouds and finally I am headed towards my first destination: my grandfather’s boyhood home of Tuam, Galway. A two to three hour drive over rolling hills, passing through small Victorian style roadside towns dressed in bright colors, passing by cows and black-faced sheep and more cows, and occasionally a few horses. Seeing sign after sign, I begin to wonder if every fifth house or farm isn’t a Bed and Breakfast. As lunch time approaches, I approach Tuam.
posted by J Corlss at
5:42 AM
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