And so it begins ...
After uneventful travel (I would not recommend the movie The Phantom Thread, however), faith and begorrah, we arrived in Dublin!
The Mister knew we'd be tired so he arranged for a car and driver to pick us up. After we went through customs, a man who would turn out to be a wonderfully kind and informative driver was standing there with a "Mr. and Mrs. Jones" sign at baggage claim. A sight for sore eyes.
My granddaughter Cecilia once asked me, "Gram, why do you talk to everybody?" Because you learn so much, my darling girl. As we drove from north of Dublin to south of the city, Thorsten answered so many questions and told us about Ireland and Irish people. Did you know all schools in Ireland are Catholic schools? We talked about architecture and politics and beer and The Easter Rising and the Pope and rural vs. town views.
The Mister and I had gotten some sleep on our overnight flight but needed more. After checking in at the hotel, we slept but limited ourselves to two hours. Tonight we'll go to bed at the regular time and, if our history repeats itself, we won't be troubled by jet lag.
After our brutally short nap, we walked to St. Stephen's Park, thanks to a suggestion from my friend Barb. Needed winter coats but the rain had stopped and the sun peeked through a bit. What a great setting for our first selfie of the Grand Tour!
Gates to this park are locked at 10:00 every night, but we wonder: how can they know the rather large park is empty when they close the big wrought iron gates?
Next stop: dinner at an Irish pub. Earl checked the menus posted outside the doors at about six different pubs and chose one named Foley's.
We each had a Hop House Lager (a new brand for us) and The Mister ordered -- and devoured -- a beef and Guinness pot pie. Chips on the side, and he was in heaven. I loved hearing Irish people talking at other tables.
We walked and explored the neighborhood. I said at least a half-dozen times, "We're in Dublin!" Travel amazes me.
The Mister knew we'd be tired so he arranged for a car and driver to pick us up. After we went through customs, a man who would turn out to be a wonderfully kind and informative driver was standing there with a "Mr. and Mrs. Jones" sign at baggage claim. A sight for sore eyes.
My granddaughter Cecilia once asked me, "Gram, why do you talk to everybody?" Because you learn so much, my darling girl. As we drove from north of Dublin to south of the city, Thorsten answered so many questions and told us about Ireland and Irish people. Did you know all schools in Ireland are Catholic schools? We talked about architecture and politics and beer and The Easter Rising and the Pope and rural vs. town views.
The Mister and I had gotten some sleep on our overnight flight but needed more. After checking in at the hotel, we slept but limited ourselves to two hours. Tonight we'll go to bed at the regular time and, if our history repeats itself, we won't be troubled by jet lag.
After our brutally short nap, we walked to St. Stephen's Park, thanks to a suggestion from my friend Barb. Needed winter coats but the rain had stopped and the sun peeked through a bit. What a great setting for our first selfie of the Grand Tour!
Gates to this park are locked at 10:00 every night, but we wonder: how can they know the rather large park is empty when they close the big wrought iron gates?
Next stop: dinner at an Irish pub. Earl checked the menus posted outside the doors at about six different pubs and chose one named Foley's.
We walked and explored the neighborhood. I said at least a half-dozen times, "We're in Dublin!" Travel amazes me.
