Happy Arthur's Day!!

One place in the Galway region that was on my must-see list was the Aran Islands.  I have knitted several Aran island type sweaters over the years and was always fascinated in the stories of the patterns.  Each knitter has an unique pattern she (always women in the past) used to create sweaters for her menfolk.  The story goes that often drowned fishermen were identified by the sweater they wore.

There are three islands making up the Aran Islands:  Inis Mor (big island), Inis Meanin (middle island), and Inis Oirr (eastern island).  Aran Island Ferries runs passengers to all three islands but the route to Kilronan on Inis Mor (pronounced 'Inishmore') has more sailings (extra ones between June and September).  According to their brochure, the bus to the harbour of Ros an Mhil (Rossaveal) left Galway an hour prior to sailing (there are other ferries which depart from Doolin) and since we wished to board the 10:30 am ferry, we left the hotel at 9:00.  The ferry office was a block from the hotel so we quickly paid for our passage (senior rates pose a significant savings), then headed to the bus stop near Eyre Square.  We weren't the only ones waiting and met a couple from Maine who were in Galway to participate in the Oyster Festival.

After an hour's bus ride on a double-decker, we boarded the ferry.  The seas had been rough the previous day (note the picture on the Cliffs of Insanity blog) but they appeared calm as we chugged slowly through the harbour.  It was an illusion, of course, and when we hit the open water, the seas grew.  I have seen much worse but for those with tender tummies, expect a rough ride.

We reached Kilronan around 11:30 and after obtaining a map from the tourist office, we headed up the road leading to the interior.  Others from our group rented bicycles while older folks opted for horse-drawn traps or tour vans (these act as taxis and will pick up hikers as they circle the island).  Since I knew I was there to photograph the scenery, a bike was not my preferred mode of transportation and as it turned out, the island's hills forced many bikers to dismount.

Inis Mor was nothing what I expected -- it was so much more.  The day was bright, the bracken burnished, and the lichen spotted rock walls craggy.  Clouds scudded across the island's skies but the rains never came.  The islands are geologically related to the The Burren which we'd seen the previous day and as we left the town, we made a detour onto the flattened, moon-like landscape.  From this elevation we could see the other islands and the lighthouse which was our destination.

"Why would you build a lighthouse in the middle of an island?" Was the question we kept asking ourselves as we walked the island road.  It was a steep climb to reach it and the tower was at least a kilometer from the sea.  Turns out the lighthouse was a complete failure and had been abandoned soon after it was built.

Also on this, the highest part of the island called Dun Arann, was a Signal Tower and round stone fort (Dun Eochia).   The signal tower was a medieval structure whereas the lighthouse was modern.  We scrambled up the rusting circular staircase to the top of the lighthouse and enjoyed wonderful views of the island (above photo).  The stone fort lay at our feet so we descended to explore that.  There were no guardrails or plaques, just two sets of circular walls.  We later learned it had been constructed between 550 and 800 A.D. and may have been a dwelling rather than a fort with livestock occupying the outer circle.  We were shocked to think we had scrambled over structures that old.

By this time, 1:30 pm,  I was hungry so we left the fort.  We'd past a bar on the road outside town so quickly headed to that.  Ti Joe Watty's is a happening place but for lunch, it seemed like an ideal spot.  Besides, in honour of Arthur's Day (see title), Guinness was cheap (1.5 euro less than usual).  We had a tasty shepherd's pie sitting by a warm peat fire.   I've come to love both Guinness and peat fires.  Arthur's Day actually began September 22, 2009 (at 17:59) on the 250th anniversary of the Guinness brewery and has continued since then.

After lunch, we returned to the town of Kilnonan and explored the Aran Sweater Market & Museum.  I knew I would buy a sweater but which one became the question.  In the end, I settled for a machine knit, Merlino wool cardigan in a biscuit colour.  The hand-knit sweaters were expensive and not made by island woman anymore.  I was tempted to buy the unworked yarn but knew it wouldn't fit into my suitcase (I can order it on-line as it turns out).

We caught the 5:00 pm ferry which left at 4:45 so it was good we got to the dock early.  Our Maine friends were not on board but another ferry left soon after so we saw them board our bus at Ros an Mihl.  An hour later, we were back in Galway and after a brief stop at our hotel, went out in search of supper.

There were hordes of young people milling about every pub and off-license in town, all celebrating Arthur's Day.  Hundreds, all toting glasses of Guinness, packed the main shopping street and every pub overflowed with those imbibing.  We wanted to eat as well as drink and did not want to battle the crowds so made our way back to McGuinns on the Quay.  The proprietor recognized us and said, "Well, today you are definitely drinking Guinness."  He ordered it as we found a table.  The place was packed but not too noisy.  I enjoyed a chowder and crawfish salad while Glen had Irish stew.  Not long after we sat down, a trio began playing and did some great covers of Queen and even some old Fifties songs.  We took the backstreets home to avoid the drunk kids and tumbled into bed.  What a great day and we certainly did Arthur Guinness proud.

Cliffs of Insanity

Wednesday we decided to do a half day bus tour.  Again Glen and I got our timing wrong. I thought he knew the tours started at either 11 or 11:30.  He thought they began at noon.

We slept in and had a large, late breakfast before Glen tackled his more pressing emails.  I read then finally at 10:45 said I guess we weren't going on the tour.  Glen realized his error so without further adieu, we marched up to the tour office (a block away) and bought tickets to see the Cliffs of Moher (pronounced 'more') on the 11:30 bus.

It began to rain as we left so we were warned we might not see much.  Without thinking I began taking photos from the bus window only to discover later that the tinted glass gave everything a green hue.  Emerald Isle, indeed.

It was a long drive to the cliffs as we crossed the Burren which means 'great rock'.  This limestone formation is barren in areas and grows very little in others.  Cattle, sheep, and donkeys seemed to be the livestock of choice although one pathetic garden did have rather stunted sunflowers.  The bus driver thought this very funny for a rainy place like Ireland.  The rocks are great for building walls and we saw plenty of those.   We also saw fields dedicated to peat harvesting and more castle/forts than I can remember.

When we arrived at the Cliffs of Moher, the rain stopped and the sun tried to pry open the clouds.  Hundreds of folks were there to see the natural beauty of the cliffs but first we took a break at the visitor centre which is cut into the surrounding cliffs so does not detract from the bleak landscape.

The cliffs, made up of shale and sandstone, soar to a maximum of 200 meters (700 feet) above the sea and run 8 km (5 miles) along the coast.  At their midpoint, stands O'Brien's Tower which Sir Cornelius O'Brien built to impress his female visitors (I was impressed).  From here we viewed the natural phenomenon that is the Cliffs of Moher.  They seemed familiar and later I discovered they were featured in the movie, The Princess Bride, a favourite of our family.  There they were called the Cliffs of Insanity.

The cliffs are amazing but the wind could lift you off your feet, it was so strong.  We didn't linger up on the bluffs but I did get lots of pictures.  At one point, as we peered across Galway Bay, we could just see the Aran Islands.  The sun then vanished and the rain began so we made our way back to the bus.

Our next stop was lunch in a tiny town called Doolin, famous for its Irish music (The Russell Brothers hail from here).  We stopped at Fitzpatrick's, a bar/cafeteria where we could get a pint of Guinness and an excellent seafood chowder with rich brown bread.  Bread in Ireland is so delicious and is served with everything from oysters to soup.  It is the land where potato is king.  At Fitzpatrick's the woman ahead of us requested the turkey dinner and not only did she get a huge dollop of mash potatoes, the chef also gave her several boiled potatoes.  Her husband then asked what the soup of the day was and the chef replied, "Amazing!".  I got a laugh out of that.  Don't look for a huge variety of veggies in Ireland.  We had mostly peas and carrots and their salads were a pile of lettuce with perhaps a cucumber slice.

After lunch (it was 3:00 pm when we sat down to eat), we drove to another slab of rock along the coast.  Here, the abbreviated cliffs were covered in scaffolding as a crew had been filming the new Asterix & Obelix movie.  The drop from the ledge we stood on was steep and there were no guard rails holding us back so we took our photos quickly then bundled back onto the bus.

On our return to Galway, we stopped at a small castle.  Dunguaire Castle sits on Galway Bay and as we disembarked a flock of swans came to feed along the shoreline.  The castle is really a tower house built in 1520 but is thought to be the most photographed castle in Ireland.  You must be careful on how you line up your photo, though, as a tiny village, Kinverra, has almost engulfed it. In the summer, the castle is open to tourists but we had to be content just wandering the grounds.  Apparently, if you ask a question at the front gate, the late Lord of the Hynes clan, who built the castle, will provide an answer by the end of the day.  I didn't know this so, even though I stood at the gate, I never thought to ask a question.

We were late getting back to town so by the time we were ready for supper, it was after 8:00 pm.  We decided to go to the closest pub that served oysters.  This was Garvey's Inn on Eyre Square.  We found a seat for two at the back where all was quiet.  Almost too quiet.  We ordered our Guinness and were told the oysters were gone.  Rather than hunt down another place, we ordered regular bar food.  As we were enjoying our meal, a band began to set up nearby.  By 10:00, the place was rocking.  The music was good but we knew we had rise early to do our next tour so left giving those standing around us a place to sit.

So I Lied

Okay, I lied about the rain.  The next day dawned bright and sunny so I again explored the town.  I wanted to see the weir and the 'working' harbour so began by heading towards the river.  Glen spent the morning sequestered in a hotel conference room working with his colleagues on their final report.

The population of Galway is about 100,000 and Galwegians proudly say it is the third largest city in Ireland.  Those in other towns dispute this.  However, the downtown area is alive with people no matter what time of day so it did seem like a busy European city.  Calgary could learn something from this.

I wandered along the River Corrib above the weir and discovered what I believe may have been part the original walls of city, built in the 1600's.  As I fiddled with my camera to change my lenses, a squall blew up and lashed against me.  I took shelter behind this wall now covered with trees and moss.  A few minutes later, the sun shone again.  I decided the weather was much like Calgary's, wait five minutes and it will change.

Not able to cross the weir (obviously deemed too dangerous for the public), I returned to the Salmon Weir Bridge that leads to the Cathedral.  I had spotted some gardens next to the river which I wanted to see but these were also closed to the public.  An old white house stood beside the weir so I made my way to that.  Turns out the Ministry of Fisheries owned the building and again public were not welcome.

Retracing my steps, I discovered a stone structure with a plaque sitting in the middle of a small field (Fisheries Field on the grounds of the National University of Ireland).  It turned out to be a lime kiln (heat turns limestone into quicklime) used in 1820 (during an outbreak of cholera) to build a hospital and make the whitewash used to sanitize its walls.

My next destination was the monument to Christopher Columbus which I'd read was near the waterfront.  Turns out I had passed it the day before but it was such an insignificant marking I'd missed it.  I then walked under the Spanish Arch on my way to the Galway's modern harbour.  The wall was originally part of the city's fortifications but in the 18th century, when the Long Walk was built, arches allowed people to move along the waterfront.  Glen ate in the tiny restaurant near the arch but since they didn't serve Guinness, we never returned.

The Long Walk isn't that long and I have since learned that what I thought was the old harbour is actually the River Corrib.  I guess if I'd tasted the water, I might have known but the obvious tide threw me off.  After watching longshoremen load scrap metal onto a ship, I made my way back into town passing a tiny restaurant called McGinns on the Quays which looked inviting.  The 19th century building was the birthplace of Padraig O'Conaire who wrote about Irish emigrants living in England.

It was noon when I reached the hotel.  By one o'clock there was still no sign of Glen so I texted him.  Turned out, the group had planned to work until at least 2:00 but either he had forgotten to tell me or I hadn't heard him.  He said I could eat their leftover sandwiches but I thought that a bit crass so again had soup and a sandwich in the hotel restaurant.

When Glen's session was over, we walked along an arm of the sea which flowed passed the hotel called Lough Atalia (lough being Gaelic for lake).  Partway down the walkway, we came to a white cement structure on the shore.  Turns out it was a holy well associated with the Augustinians and its waters cured ear and eye infections.  We had neither so didn't try the water bubbling from the ground from the well and flowing into the sea.

Following a circuitous route, we wound our way back to the town's centre passing a greyhound racetrack and city hall.  Glen had only seen the square at night and I only in the rain so we enjoyed it together.  We then wandered the downtown eventually coming to St. Nicholas church.   We went inside and saw the ancient tombs set in the floor, some crusading knights from the 12th or 13th century.  Outside the church was a wall where, in 1493, a the mayor took justice into his own hands and hanged his son for murdering a visitor.   His name?  James Lynch Fitzstephen.  Galway claims this is the source of the term, lynching, but most attribute it to an American Revolutionary called Charles Lynch who mete out justice against British Loyalists.

We returned to the hotel so Glen could check his email and debated staying there for supper until I mentioned McGuinns.  The gregarious owner welcomed us warmly.  We found that most in Ireland think we're American.  He was no exception but he knew enough about Canada to make us feel at home.  We ordered a bowl of Galway Bay mussels to start and ate them as the natives do, without a fork.  The finger bowl with a slice of lemon was a nice touch but I kept thinking of the movie Shrek 2 where Shrek thinks the finger bowl is soup.  It made me giggle.  Tuesday's special was a fillet of hake and if you bought one entree, the second was free.  Neither Glen nor I knew what hake was but it turned out to be delicious and tasted much like cod (it's from the same family).  We washed it down with a couple of pints of Guinness then Glen had a meringue dessert while I drank a very stiff Irish coffee.  How cliché, eh?

It's Called the Emerald Isle Because...

...it is so very green.  And why?  Well, it rains.  A lot.  Our breakfast hostess said it rained 360 days of the year. We laughed but the city does get 45 inches (1147 mm) per year so she may not have been far wrong.  Some of this precipitation fell on Monday, September 19th.

Glen went off to his meetings at the university while I waited for the heavy rain to cease.  By 10, it looked like the weather was easing so I headed out.  I didn't take my umbrella as I hate fumbling with it while taking photographs but I did dress in layers -- sweatshirt, polar fleece, and raincoat.

I hadn't gone far when the light mist turned to a heavy mist and by the time I reached Galway Harbour (above picture), it had begun to sock in.  I ended up switching to my waterproof camera as the rains came down, sometimes in blinding sheets.

Galway, or Gaillimh, was named for its river, now called the Corrib and is often referred to as the City of Tribes because in Norman times, it was ruled by 14 merchant families or tribes.  These are celebrated in the town square which was the first stop on my walking tour of the city.  Here, banners to the families fly near a stunning sculpture of the sails of the Galway Hooker (a fishing vessel).

I wandered from the square down the main shopping street.  I was not the only one braving the elements but few were tourists.  I crossed the Corrib River into Claddagh, famous for its rings which are a token of love and are often used as a wedding ring.  They were first produced in the 17th century and depict two hands (friendship) holding a heart (love) topped by a crown (loyalty).  Depending on which way you wear it and on which finger, you can show that you are available, in a relationship, engaged, or married.

After enjoying the harbour views, I made my way toward the Cathedral and despite having a map, I got lost among the side streets.  I knew the River Corrib was on my right and only a few bridges crossed it so I made my way toward what I felt was a major road.  Here I found the university and its hospital.  Glen didn't know how close I was to him.  Keeping the green-copper dome of the cathedral in my sights, I made my way towards it.

What a stunning building!  It is a very modern cathedral but has all the elements of one much older.  Called Our Lady Assumed into Heaven & St. Nicholas, it is the youngest stone cathedral (built in 1965) in Europe.  The stained glass windows were vibrant and the stations of the cross, very moving.  As a group of worshippers chanted in one of the chapels, hushed tourists admired the splendid mosaic of Christ on the cross.

After crossing the river near its famous Salmon Weir where the water broiled through the sluiceways, I came upon another stone church.  Much older but also named for St. Nicholas.  It is said Christopher Columbus prayed here in 1477 which was possible as the church is dedicated to St. Nicholas of Myra, the patron saint of sailors.  Built in 1320, it is the largest medieval stone church still in use in Ireland (these days by Anglicans).

Nearby was the house of Nora Barnacle.  Of humble birth, she later gained fame as first the mistress then the wife of writer/poet, James Joyce.  It bills itself as the smallest museum in the world but it was closed so I'll never know.

By this time the rain was heavy so I scurried back to the hotel for a late lunch.  I felt the need for a Guinness so went to the bar but they didn't serve food.  I was the only one in the restaurant when I entered and the host assured I didn't need to eat at the buffet and yes, he could get me a Guinness.  As I was wrestling with a loaf of bread trying to slice off a couple of slabs for a sandwich, he came hurrying back.

"Are you sure you want a pint?" he asked.  "They are quite big."

I laughed.  "I'm Canadian, I can drink a pint of Guinness."  And I did.

The next day when he saw me, he called me his "Little Guinness Girl."

The Bells are Ringing

Sunday in Dublin is filled with the music of the bells.  Not only the ding-dong kind but those that sing songs of praise.  It was wonderful to hear and harkened back to a different age.  And how appropriate that we should also visit a chapel this day.

The place of worship was at Dublin Castle, and was once called the Chapel Royal, now the Church of the Most Holy Trinity.  It is a timber building created to look like stone and was decorated by some of the leading architects of the day.  Begun in 1807, the building wasn't complete until 1814.  The ornate organ was a gift from Prince Albert, consort to Queen Victoria.

The Castle itself stands on the site of a Norman Castle (1169) but only a curtain wall and two towers remain (built between 1208 and 1220).  Since Glen and I arrived early to the grounds, we didn't see the interior of the buildings built to house the British Viceroys (only open afternoons on weekends).  The castle has been featured in many movies and played the role of the Vatican in the TV series, The Tudors.

We passed the old city hall on the way back to the Book of Kells gift shop then walked to Merrion Square where we saw the sculpture of Oscar Wilde and found his house across the street from the park.  It was now time to check out of our hotel room then spend some time in the lobby reading until we left for the train station.  Our taxi driver was glad he didn't have to battle the traffic near the football stadium as Dublin was playing Kerry in a match.  This is an intense rivalry and some of the Kerry fans were staying at our hotel.

We ate lunch at the station in a cafe called the Galway Hooker.  We didn't think it meant the same in Ireland as it does in North America and we were right.  A Galway Hooker is a sailing boat with an unique arrangement of sails.

We had window seats on the train from Dublin to Galway and the scenery passed through sunshine and rain.  We saw mostly sheep, some cows, and lots of green.  There was a table of lads next to us who had been to a stag in Dublin and were on their way home but listened to the football match on their phones.  They were as surprised as we were there were only 2 cans of Guinness to be had on the train.

The walk from the station to the hotel took 10 minutes.  While I ate supper in the lobby's lounge, Glen drank a couple of Guinness before he had to meet the organizers of the lab review.  They had dinner in the hotel restaurant while I read in our room.

We were in bed early and for the first time since arriving here, I had a decent night's sleep.  I think it was the cold, salty, North Atlantic air flowing through our window.

"In Dublin's fair city...

...where girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on Molly Malone." (see photo of The Tart with the Cart and Glen)

When I learned to play guitar back 'in the day', this song was one of the first I could play in a half decent manner.  Well, it was a simple ditty.  Never did I think I'd ever set foot in Dublin and yet, I had a whole Saturday in which to explore the city with Glen.  The weather wasn't fair but we'd come prepared.

First though, we had a huge breakfast of bacon, fried mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, sausage, and eggs.  I added yogurt and fruit, Glen two slabs of fantastic bread.  We knew we'd have a lot of walking to do as there is much to see in Dublin.  Our first destination was the Custom House but jet lag still affected us so we ended up at Trinity College instead.  That's where we found the queue for the Book of Kells.  For some reason, I had thought this ancient tome (circa AD 800) was housed in a castle in southern Ireland but no, it has its own place of pride in the Trinity College Library.  The displays of old manuscripts dating from the same era were incredible and the Book itself was something worth seeing.  However, what took my breath away was the Trinity College Old Library Hall.

Since taking photos was forbidden, I must describe what I saw.  The walls soared two stories meeting in an arch of golden brown wood over a central hall.  The slightly musty smell of old leather and aging paper filled the room.  Running down each side of the hall were alcoves filled with books -- brown, black, or tan -- jammed tightly against its neighbour.  Twelve to fourteen shelves, each alphabetized with double gold letters, showed you where to find the book you sought.  Upstairs similiar shelves filled each of its alcoves.  There were thousands upon thousands of books.

Along the central aisle were display cases showing the history of medicine in Ireland.  I felt overwhelmed by the majesty of the place so sat down on a bench and just soaked up the atmosphere.  Meanwhile, Glen discovered the envelop in which the first vaccine to arrive in Dublin was shipped.  He said it was a microbiologist's version of the Book of Kells.   It was interesting that a woman doctor encouraged the Irish to accept vaccination.

The tour ended at the gift shop, naturally, but I didn't want to have to worry about shopping bags so we decided to return on the way back to our hotel, the O'Callaghan Alexander.  We then wandered through the college campus, exiting across from the impressive Bank of Ireland building.  Originally built to house the Irish Parliament, it was bought by the bank in 1803 and used as its headquarters until the 1970s.  The colonnades were impressive as were the stone friezes.

We walked along the Liffey River until we reached the Custom House.  Remember, that was our original destination. It was built in 1791 but destroyed during the Irish War of Independence in 1921.  The Irish Free State restored it although many historical documents were lost.  After enjoying the views, we wandered back to the Temple Bar region of the city and saw the famous Ha'Penny (cast iron) Bridge, built by a ferryman who charged a ha'penny to those who wished to cross.

We were on our way to see the Guinness Storehouse as Glen's grad student, Tanis, had recommended it but saw the new city hall and Christ Church Cathedral first.  This stone church (oldest part built in 1180) was constructed on the site of a wood one erected in 1038.   We then walked past St. Audoen's (originally called the Celtic Church of St. Columicille) which is supposed to be Dublin's oldest church.  Anglo-Normans built a stone tower on the site in 1190 and the nave dates from the 13th century.

It was about 2:30 when we reached the Guinness Storehouse.  Glen had been declared a senior citizen at the Book of Kells exhibit so when we learned we could save $12 on our entry fee to the storehouse, we declared ourselves seniors and no one questioned us. We had yet to eat lunch but neither of us felt hungry so we started to explore this extensive museum.  Using ancient brewing equipment and modern videos, Guinness took us through the brewing process. The place is huge (shaped like a glass of Guinness) with many floors but partway up is a tasting room where you get a wee glass of the porter.

Arthur Guinness received an inheritance of 100 pounds and in 1725 started a brewery with a friend, in Kildare.  But in 1759, he signed a 9000 year lease in Dublin (including water rights) and began brewing ale and a new drink called porter.  He exported his porter to England where it grew in popularity and in 1799, he stopped brewing ale to focus all his efforts on 'that black stuff'.

At the top of two escalators was a refreshment center with a snack bar, restaurant and a 'Pour you own Pint' bar.  Glen HAD to pour so that meant I had to do so (I was shaking, I was so nervous).  I've drunk Guinness in the past but was never an ardent fan but once you've poured your own, you develop a taste.  We even got certificates declaring us to be qualified Guinness pourers.  While I hunted for mine, a woman gave Glen her glass since she 'hated' beer so he was a happy camper.  The view of Dublin from the lounge was fantastic.

After finishing our drink, we continued upwards and arrived at Gravity Bar, a 360º view of Dublin where everyone else was enjoying their 'free' glass of porter.  It was a madhouse so we descended to the gift shop.  Glen kept telling everyone he met, "What the Vatican is to Catholics, the Guinness Storehouse is to beer drinkers".  We ended up in the gift shop, naturally, and bought a few souvenirs.

By this time we were hungry so walked back to Temple Bar where Glen's former post-doc, Erin, said we'd find a great place to drink.  It must have been because everyone in Dublin was inside.  We crossed the street and found a quiet restaurant, The Shack, where we had Guinness with beef casserole (Glen) and lamb stew (me).  It was obviously an 'in' place for Dublin women to go after shopping as there were 3 men and 25 women dining.  Our waitress gave me a small polished amethyst stone as a gift then we headed back to our hotel.  After divesting ourselves of our shopping and cameras, we returned to Kennedy's and had some more Guinness before calling it a night.

Passport Panic

Melissa, our daughter-in-law, said Glen's passport panic would make a great blog post to which I replied, "Only if it has a happy ending." (Foreshadowing, folks)

Not sure where, but I read that to fly to Ireland, one needed a passport that did not expire within 6 months.  Glen's was due to end in January and since the Irish site visit was set for September, he needed a new one.

Applying online seemed to the best way to apply as getting to the downtown office from the Health Sciences Centre is problematic for Glen.  He meant to apply in June but then figured we might need the passport to go to the States to pick Geoff, et al when they visited Victoria. Besides, we had lots of time to apply once we got back to Calgary.  Big mistake.

Although the Passport Canada website had the forms, one must actually mail in the application.  I sent it priority post and a week later, Glen's old passport came back.  The system appeared to be working.  I thought the new passport would arrive within a few days.  Wrong.  Buried deep in the website is the information that it takes 20 working days to process a passport if it is mailed, ten if one goes to a passport office.

Then Glen got an email saying the passport would arrive on September 21st.  We were leaving on the 15th!  He called Passport Canada and his passport was at the printers but they did transfer his file to Calgary where it could be expedited.  Problem was the woman who got his file could barely speak English and even though Glen sent her all our flight information plus his invitation letter, etc, she recorded we were to leave Friday, not Thursday.

This laboratory site visit required reading through over 250 pages of scientific information plus scanning the 25 CVs of the investigators.  Glen spent over two weeks reading about the research and budget then had to write a long report on the positives and negatives of the entire scientific group.  This involved a lot of work.

Needless-to-say, Glen was too busy with the first week of classes plus putting the finishing touches on his review to call the passport office.  He naively believed everything was working as it should.  How wrong he was.  Finally, on Wednesday morning, he called to find out what was going on.  That's when he learned they thought he flew out on Friday.  The file was targeted as urgent then he was told to come to the Calgary office on Thursday at 1pm and he may or may not get his passport.

I felt sick.  I was packing and had no idea if I was doing so in vain.  I couldn't get excited about travelling to Ireland because I didn't know if I would leave Canada.  The flight was due to depart at 6:30pm on Thursday but we wanted to be at the airport by 4:00 to eat, knowing supper on the plane would be late.

One o'clock came and went.  I couldn't concentrate on anything.  I knew Glen would text me the minute he had the passport but they ticked by with no communications.  Finally, at 1:15, he texted to say it was being printed.  A half hour later, he had it in his hands and was heading home.  I flung the last of our clothes into the suitcase.

We were at the airport in plenty of time but soon learned we would not be sitting together on the plane. The woman at the check-in desk could not move us as we both had middle seats which no one else would want.  Resigned to having this flight being the 'one from Hell', we headed for security.  Glen was selected for a complete search which included one of the new full-body scans.  He thought it was fun.

We headed to the gate at the other end of the airport only to discover there was no place to have a meal so returned to the domestic section so we could eat and have a much needed beer.  Chili's was busy but we got a seat and slowly the tension eased.  I felt as if my shoulders which had been swallowing my neck finally relaxed.

We returned to the gate and I heard someone rearranging their seats so they could sit together so we tried to do the same.  Success!!  I even got a window seat.  The flight itself was uneventful and I logged 4 hours sleep.   We arrived early and had to circle Heathrow.  We exited the plane to make our way from Terminal 3 to Terminal 1.  Sounds easy, eh?

Since we were not staying in England, we thought we could waltz through the airport with plenty of time to spare.  Well, we were wrong.  Apparently, even if you are going to Ireland, you must fill in a UK entry form and go through passport control.   Then we hopped a bus to take us to Terminal 1.  It had to circle around all the construction at the airport to get us to the terminal.  Again we had to go through passport control where they removed the bar code they had inserted into our first check.

Security awaited and again we were scrutinized.  By this time our jet lagged brains were truly addled and we checked the departures board to see where we had to go.  The 12:05 plane to Dublin flashed 'Go to Gate'.  We rushed to gate 82 swirling past other passengers to follow a labyrinthian-like route.  We arrived as a long line snaked into the plane.  We got at its end, sweat pouring off Glen.  It was hot in London and we wore fall clothing.

The ticket agent then informed us we were at the wrong gate trying to board the wrong airline.  She told us to go to Gate 78 where a BMI plane waited.  We did but there were no agents at the gate and the departures board said our flight was boarding at Gate 8.  So we ran back to that gate knowing we'd probably not make it but we actually arrived at 11:55.  But, there was no plane!!

After taking a deep breath, we found a board that said our flight, which was boarding at 12:05, not departing at 12:05, was now boarding at Gate--you guessed it, 78.  Back we flew and got there just as the agents were setting up.  We were not sitting together on this flight either so Glen spoke to the agents and they quickly arranged for us to sit next to each other.

It was a short flight to Dublin but all the while I worried about whether our bag made the transition to this flight.  I had thought the Air Canada agent said we must pick up our bag in London but Glen insisted it would be transferred.  He was right, thank heavens.

We caught a bus outside the terminal that took us to downtown Dublin within a block of our hotel.  As it turns out, it stopped right in front of the house in which Oscar Wilde was born.  We got checked in and although I dearly wanted to sleep, we had missed lunch in our mad dash through Heathrow so decided to hit a pub for an early supper.

Kennedy's was a student/workingman's pub near Trinity College (see photo) and we enjoyed an excellent bowl of creamed vegetable soup and salmon fishcakes, washed down with Smithwicks beer before tumbling into bed at 7:30.  I slept solidly, except for an hour or so around midnight, until 8:30am when Glen's rumbling stomach woke us.