It was Steven's bright idea. "How else can we see what we want on our own schedule? He was right, of course. He's always right.
You may have noticed that, in the previous entry, the car Steve was sitting in had right-hand drive, but then you may not have because the picture was remarkable poor. Nevertheless, Steve had to learn to drive on the LEFT side of the road, because that's what is expected by the general population in Ireland. There were arrow-stickers pointing to the left all over the dash board which read, "Drive on the Left."
Me, "Are you sure you are on the correct side of the road?!!!"
Steve, "NO!!!" --Swerve, catch our breath.
It didn't happen that often, just enough to keep us humble.
The next (almost immediate) issue was the round-abouts. Round-abouts are fairly easy. If you get in one and miss your turn, you just go around again...and maybe around and around again. We learned to use the signs indicating which exit to use. We also learned to enter in the left lane and exit into a left lane. This skill only became problematic back home where round-abouts are much less common and where you are expected to both enter and exit the round-about in the RIGHT lane. It seems so unnatural now.
Alas, it was about this time that we learned first-hand of the Irish aversion to posting road signs. Sometimes we found them on poles. Sometimes we found them bill-boards or highway road signs or even painted on the sides of buildings. Mostly we didn't find them because they just aren't used. Very frustrating for us California Kids.
Returning to the story, we picked up the car at Shannon Airport, at which time Steven commented on the dirty exterior. You may remember his comment, "What have they been doing with this thing? Driving through fields?"
We got directions to our first Bed and Breakfast, which included three round-abouts (a bad introduction to round-abouts), and learned the difference between a confusing intersection and a no-kidding, honest-to-goodness round-about.
Much later than anticipated, we found our hotel and met our hostess. She was nice, but evasive. It may be that Steven contributed unwittingly to her lack of availability. Some colloquialisms just don't translate, one of them being, "I'd like to pick your brain." Oh well. We didn't come to visit the inn-keeper, we came to see Ireland!
It was time for dinner and we were hungry. Accordingly, we got back into the car and drove to the nearest town, once again on the LEFT side of the road. At that time the cause of the dirty car was revealed to us (see picture above).
"I don't mean to criticize, but don't you think you're kind of close to the edge of the road?" I asked in a panic as the road-side shrubbery whipped our car.
"Honey," Steven answered rather testily, "I'm already driving on the center line."
Despite our limited exposure to Irish roads and motoring, we made it to Newmarket-on-Fergus in one piece. The first thing that struck us about Newmarket-on-Fergus, I mean beside the name, was the color. Besides the green of the entire country, all houses and shops are painted a profusion of colors. We conjectured that it was because the skies are grey and the colorful buildings served as a type of therapy. Let's face it; it takes a lot of rainy days to keep an island as green as Ireland and the grey skies might depress some of the locals and tourists, come to think of it. Then again, despite the favorable conditions, colorful flowers were just about nonexistent.
Suffice it to say that we did our share of gawking before we entered the restaurant. Actually, it was a pub--get used to it. (I figure the pubs outnumber the churches maybe 10 to 1. This is in stark contrast to the Taft ratio of 1 bar to every 3 churches and the Utah ratio of 1 church to every 1 mile.)
We ordered and waited, in great anticipation, for the meal. The most remarkable thing about the meal was the mashed potatoes. They were served on the side in scoops, similar to an ice cram scoop. You spooned yourself as many scoops as you wanted, until you were happy. I loved it 'cuz I can eat a whole lot of mashed potatoes.
After dinner, we took another walk around the village and departed. But first we got lost. then we stopped at a graveyard to take pictures.
The thing about Lemenagh Cemetery is that we found no graves older than the early 1970's. Imagine our disappointment! I guess we should have called ahead to make sure there was an older graveyard to tour. Silly us.
Like all good tourists who had just spent 10 hours on a cramped jet, we were beyond tired. We had to get some sleep. Thus, we returned to our room and unwittingly discovered that the sun does not set in Ireland in May. That's an exaggeration. It sets about 10:00 P.M. But it rises again at about 4:30 A.M. Needless to say, this is not conducive to a deep, recuperative sleep even for time-lagged tourists. Oh well. We did not go to Ireland to sleep, we came to see Ireland!
