05-26-2023, 03:46 PM
May 2 London-Heathrow and Dublin
When I made it into the International Terminal at LHR, I recognized the place. Usually it is so long between trips that doesn’t happen during international trips. I guess I’ve been to Heathrow often enough details are starting to sink in. When The Queen made the original reservations, we had an hour between flights but the computers at United cancelled that reservation and booked us on a later flight to Dublin. Probably wise, but this meant we had more time to kill. Fortunately, LHR has, you guessed it, a United Lounge. Unfortunately, the United Lounge was near the B Gates and Aer Lingus departures were through the A Gates. Two different terminals all together. Our connecting flight was Aer Lingus to Dublin. This necessitated a ten minute walk from one terminal to the other and during the walk there seemed no way to get back to the A gates from the B gates. I also feared we would have to go back through security upon our return from the United Lounge.
Fortunately, the man behind the welcome desk at the United Lounge assured us there was a way back to the A gates. Best of all, this lounge was much better than the one at SFO. It had a huge window wall that overlooked the runways. The buffet was really nice complete with weird chicken curry that was quite tasty. It had much less of the closet feel that I received from the SFO lounge. We hung out there for an hour before making the long trek back to the Aer Lingus gates.
One of the beauties at landing at Heathrow first and then taking basically what was a commuter shuttle over to Dublin was that we were the only people going through the non-EU passport control. When you land directly from the United States in Ireland with a bunch of your compatriots, which I have experienced, the lines can get very long, especially when all the red eye flights from the states land at the same time. Our entry into Dublin was a breeze. They should all be that easy.
We had rented a car for the trip around Ireland. Since automatic shift cars are scarce on the ground in Ireland and manual cars are quite cheaper than the automatics, for the last several trips we have gotten the manual transmission cars. I don’t really fear the manual but the first couple of times in the car does make me cranky.
The Queen rented us a Kia Sportage from her friends at Hertz where her traveling prowess still holds some sway. Our name was on the board when we showed up. Our car for the trip was a black Kia Sportage, big for an Irish car, small for an American car. This became readily apparent when The Queen’s monster of a bag was the only bag that would fit in the luggage area. Our lack of luggage space would become even more apparent with the arrival of the Queen Mum. But I shoved the bags in their, receiving notes of disappointment from the rear hatchback when I closed it hard on the luggage. The read window was almost completely blocked by my duffel. The Queen suggested I just put the extra bags in the back seat. I said I might as well get used to the blocked window because it was what was going to happen when everyone and their bags were in the car.
At this point, I figure, or hope really, that every car will now have Apple Play. I had spent time in the run up to the trip plotting our trips and destinations on Google Maps so once I got to Ireland I wouldn’t have the hassle of finding places. When I plugged in my phone however to the lightning cable, the Apple Play screen did not pop up. Cranky. The Sportage did have it’s own navigation system but I was unfamiliar with how it worked. I’m also a bit sleep deprived from the flight and my brain is switching over to driving on the other side of the road. I didn’t really want to be fighting with the car at this early stage. The Queen hit some buttons and an icon for Apple Play popped up on the dash. Pressing the button connected the car to my phone and we were in business. Now, I just had to drive us to Dublin.
My main mantra for driving on the left side is ‘Driver stays in the middle’. If I’m up against a curb, something is wrong. Driver stays in the middle. Car parks are the worst for me because I really have to think about where I should be in the lane. It helped a little to finally get out of the car park and onto the road. The first test immediately appeared in the form of the roundabout. As soon as I enter one, I can hear my father yelling about the best way to approach said roundabout and several other hints about proper roundabout navigation. At this point, I’m pretty good at the Irish roundabouts and get mad when I come to an intersection that doesn’t have one.
There were several ways into Dublin from the Airport: surface streets, the M1 or the M50. We had arrived during rush hour so the best bet would be to take the M1 through a tunnel into the city center. There was a weird situation with tolls on the M motorways. On the M1, I was supposed to pay at the toll booth. On the M50, there would be a reader of my license plate and the tolls would be billed to the rent. No tolls for driving on surface streets until Dublin figures how to make that feasible.
I was going to use the M1 tunnel route. I followed the signs. I used Google Maps. I missed the line to take me to the tunnel and ended up on the surface streets. The quick trip to our hotel was now the long trip to our hotel. Although it was kind of fun seeing the urban city streets rather than the motorway. I also got to learn about the dedicated Taxi/Bus lanes. In order for the people not to have to fight the congestion as much, people on buses get their own dedicated lanes to get around with. Taxis get to use them as well. Good for them, tricky for me, especially when coming to intersections. I didn’t quite know when it was legal for me to get into those lanes when making left turns. Still don’t know. I probably should have been given a couple of tickets.
The reason I missed the turn onto the right route, and will be an ongoing theme, is I have a hard time gauging where I am on Google Maps. Many times I have been unsure if this is the spot to turn or merge or is it the next spot. I hate Google Maps. I love Google maps. I did many discourses during the 2023 trip on how did I possibly get around Ireland 30 years ago with my father. I think we relied on paper maps, street signs and my dad’s infallible memory. The infallible memory worked as many times as it didn’t. My biggest regret from those times is not having a recording of our discussions about the best way to get from point A to point B. I should probably interview the Queen and my godson about their recollections to those times since they were first hand witnesses to the experience.
Eventually, we made it to our hotel, Hampton by Hilton on Chancery Street. kitty corner to the giant Four Courts building. The Four Courts building is where all the big trials in Dublin and Ireland are held. Since this is Dublin, our hotel had no parking. There were three spots on the street, but they were marked handicapped. I figured I would drop the Queen with our bags to check in while I drove several blocks away to the Smithfield Center Park Rite on Queen Street.
When I pulled into the spot outside the hotel, I saw a couple sitting on the sidewalk between us and the door into the hotel. Upon further examination, I realized they were busy sorting cigarette butts, I guess, for future usability. The man and woman also had a half full bottle of wine between. They caught me looking at them as I stepped onto the sidewalk on my way to the trunk so I naturally wished them good evening. I think they were surprised somebody actually spoke to them so they wished me a good evening. As I unloaded the bags, they voiced their concerns that I was in a handicapped spot. They warned me the police would be along any second to put a boot on my tire, clamping as it’s called in Ireland, if I wasn’t careful. They then showed us the proper entrance to the hotel. Ah, Dublin. You have to love it. Before I could be clamped, I got in the car and drove to the parking garage. The first thing I saw as I pulled onto what I thought was a one way street was a car coming directly towards me. I think (hope) locals just speed down the street to make a turn and ignore the one way markers.`
I wasn’t sure if The Queen wanted to leave the hotel after settling in so I decided to stop by a pub that had been on my radar: The Cobblestone. I don’t know when the Cobblestone first came to my attention but it is supposedly one of the best places to hear traditional music in Dublin. On Tuesday nights, the night we arrived, is when one of the finest Uilleann pipers in Ireland Néillidh Mulligan, brother to the owner of the Cobblestone plays his pipes. How do I know all this? Their website. Should I care? Maybe. Every time I plan a tour, I promise myself that this tour is the one where I’m going to sit in a pub and listen to a Trad session. It seemed foreordained. The Cobblestone was between the car park and the hotel.
In my rush to get back to the hotel, I didn’t pay a lot of attention to where I left the car park. My brain was spinning a bit trying to get my orientation of where things were and how to get from place to place. I think it was three minutes into the walk back to the hotel, that I realized that I wasn’t quite sure of where I had parked the car.
After a few wrong turns and many glances at Google Maps on the phone to get me oriented, I found my way to the Cobblestone. From the outside, the pub didn’t look very promising. The giant mural on the building next door looked vaguely Mesoamerican. The sign for the Cobblestone looked like it had seen better days and could do with a paint touch up. But I overcame my fears and popped in.
I got one step over the Cobblestone threshold before I met a wall of bodies. I could go no further. I could hear the players playing but I had to stand on my tiptoes to actually see them playing in the corner. I had found the trad session but there was no room in the Cobblestone for me to actually hear them.
I left the Cobblestone and headed through Smithfield Square to find The Queen. Along the way, I popped through an alley that contained the Jameson Distillery. I also spotted St. Michan’s Church where later I hoped to see the mummies, another thing on my must see list. I also learned that Michan’s is pronounced like Mick not Mike.
At the Hampton by Hilton, I asked the Queen if she wanted to get some food. She agreed. I suggested we go to a traditional Irish place called My Meat Wagon. Okay, it wasn’t traditional but ever since I saw their name on the Cobblestone Website on the section of places near by serving food, I needed to go there. According to the maps, it was over in Smithfield probably right above where I parked the car. I tried to lead the Queen by the Jameson Distillery but the gates to that bow lane had been closed.
After some searching, we found My Meat Wagon and it was everything I wanted. The menu was basic. You could have Cow, Pig, or Chicken. Or a combination of those. You could also have it on bread if you desired. The menu remind me a lot of a great BBQ place in Los Angeles called Dr. Hogly Wogly’s Tyler, Texas Style BBQ. Our lovely Argentinian waitress took our order and in about two minutes was back with the food. I could swear all she did was walk back to the counter, order, and then instantly returned with the food. And the food was very good. The Queen and I should probably have just ordered the one tray of meat. The food also came with some really good chips and jalapeño infused mac and cheese. Carbohydrate coma here we come. I could tell I wasn’t in America when I asked our new Argentinian friend about My Meat Wagon merchandise. She looked confused. Why would I want a t-shirt with the restaurants name on it? I took plenty of pictures to solidify the memories.
After dinner, I took the Queen back to the Cobblestone just to show her. We were both able to stand just inside the door and listen to one really good tune. Seats would have made the whole experience better.
Because I’m me and the night was young, I made the Queen walk with me to the Liffey, the main river of Dublin. I didn’t realize it at the time but we took pictures of a bridge named Queen Maeve. We made it to two more bridges, the O’Donovan Rossa Bridge and the Grattan Bridge before the Queen decided she had enough and needed to sleep. Hampton by Hilton was right next to the O’Donovan Rossa. I should have walked with her back to the hotel but my need to see things burned hot. The Queen later stated she had no problem walking the few blocks back to the hotel.
I continued on down to the Ha’penny Bridge, another famous Dublin landmark. The Bridge is called the Ha’penny because that was the toll to use it when the bridge first opened in 1816. I had never photographed the bridge at night and this was probably my only chance to do that. Wednesday night we had plans in a different part of the city. I also took the opportunity to pop into the Merchant Arch Bar which is at the base of the Ha’penny Bridge on the south side of the river. I’d seen pictures of the interior of the Merchant Arch Bar and this beautiful circular staircase and I needed to see that for myself as well.
The Merchant Arch probably didn’t want gawkers in their establishment but I wandered in and took my pictures before I went to the bar and told the bartender of my admiration for his circular staircase. ‘Stupid tourists’, I’m sure flashed through the bartenders mind. I left the bar and made my way back to the hotel. I wanted to get to sleep so I could get back up and do more things.
I was excited to finally be on the ground in Ireland and ready to do all the things I’d be reading about for the last several months. My todo list was very long.
One of the themes of this essay is going to be lack of time. Despite the fact the group had booked 16 days of travel in Ireland, I always had the feeling I needed more time to do things. I wish I could have eaten in Merchant’s Arch but there was no time. The only time to see the bar was those few minutes I grabbed after dinner the first night we were there. I really should talk to the guy who planned this trip and register my complaints.
When I made it into the International Terminal at LHR, I recognized the place. Usually it is so long between trips that doesn’t happen during international trips. I guess I’ve been to Heathrow often enough details are starting to sink in. When The Queen made the original reservations, we had an hour between flights but the computers at United cancelled that reservation and booked us on a later flight to Dublin. Probably wise, but this meant we had more time to kill. Fortunately, LHR has, you guessed it, a United Lounge. Unfortunately, the United Lounge was near the B Gates and Aer Lingus departures were through the A Gates. Two different terminals all together. Our connecting flight was Aer Lingus to Dublin. This necessitated a ten minute walk from one terminal to the other and during the walk there seemed no way to get back to the A gates from the B gates. I also feared we would have to go back through security upon our return from the United Lounge.
Fortunately, the man behind the welcome desk at the United Lounge assured us there was a way back to the A gates. Best of all, this lounge was much better than the one at SFO. It had a huge window wall that overlooked the runways. The buffet was really nice complete with weird chicken curry that was quite tasty. It had much less of the closet feel that I received from the SFO lounge. We hung out there for an hour before making the long trek back to the Aer Lingus gates.
One of the beauties at landing at Heathrow first and then taking basically what was a commuter shuttle over to Dublin was that we were the only people going through the non-EU passport control. When you land directly from the United States in Ireland with a bunch of your compatriots, which I have experienced, the lines can get very long, especially when all the red eye flights from the states land at the same time. Our entry into Dublin was a breeze. They should all be that easy.
We had rented a car for the trip around Ireland. Since automatic shift cars are scarce on the ground in Ireland and manual cars are quite cheaper than the automatics, for the last several trips we have gotten the manual transmission cars. I don’t really fear the manual but the first couple of times in the car does make me cranky.
The Queen rented us a Kia Sportage from her friends at Hertz where her traveling prowess still holds some sway. Our name was on the board when we showed up. Our car for the trip was a black Kia Sportage, big for an Irish car, small for an American car. This became readily apparent when The Queen’s monster of a bag was the only bag that would fit in the luggage area. Our lack of luggage space would become even more apparent with the arrival of the Queen Mum. But I shoved the bags in their, receiving notes of disappointment from the rear hatchback when I closed it hard on the luggage. The read window was almost completely blocked by my duffel. The Queen suggested I just put the extra bags in the back seat. I said I might as well get used to the blocked window because it was what was going to happen when everyone and their bags were in the car.
At this point, I figure, or hope really, that every car will now have Apple Play. I had spent time in the run up to the trip plotting our trips and destinations on Google Maps so once I got to Ireland I wouldn’t have the hassle of finding places. When I plugged in my phone however to the lightning cable, the Apple Play screen did not pop up. Cranky. The Sportage did have it’s own navigation system but I was unfamiliar with how it worked. I’m also a bit sleep deprived from the flight and my brain is switching over to driving on the other side of the road. I didn’t really want to be fighting with the car at this early stage. The Queen hit some buttons and an icon for Apple Play popped up on the dash. Pressing the button connected the car to my phone and we were in business. Now, I just had to drive us to Dublin.
My main mantra for driving on the left side is ‘Driver stays in the middle’. If I’m up against a curb, something is wrong. Driver stays in the middle. Car parks are the worst for me because I really have to think about where I should be in the lane. It helped a little to finally get out of the car park and onto the road. The first test immediately appeared in the form of the roundabout. As soon as I enter one, I can hear my father yelling about the best way to approach said roundabout and several other hints about proper roundabout navigation. At this point, I’m pretty good at the Irish roundabouts and get mad when I come to an intersection that doesn’t have one.
There were several ways into Dublin from the Airport: surface streets, the M1 or the M50. We had arrived during rush hour so the best bet would be to take the M1 through a tunnel into the city center. There was a weird situation with tolls on the M motorways. On the M1, I was supposed to pay at the toll booth. On the M50, there would be a reader of my license plate and the tolls would be billed to the rent. No tolls for driving on surface streets until Dublin figures how to make that feasible.
I was going to use the M1 tunnel route. I followed the signs. I used Google Maps. I missed the line to take me to the tunnel and ended up on the surface streets. The quick trip to our hotel was now the long trip to our hotel. Although it was kind of fun seeing the urban city streets rather than the motorway. I also got to learn about the dedicated Taxi/Bus lanes. In order for the people not to have to fight the congestion as much, people on buses get their own dedicated lanes to get around with. Taxis get to use them as well. Good for them, tricky for me, especially when coming to intersections. I didn’t quite know when it was legal for me to get into those lanes when making left turns. Still don’t know. I probably should have been given a couple of tickets.
The reason I missed the turn onto the right route, and will be an ongoing theme, is I have a hard time gauging where I am on Google Maps. Many times I have been unsure if this is the spot to turn or merge or is it the next spot. I hate Google Maps. I love Google maps. I did many discourses during the 2023 trip on how did I possibly get around Ireland 30 years ago with my father. I think we relied on paper maps, street signs and my dad’s infallible memory. The infallible memory worked as many times as it didn’t. My biggest regret from those times is not having a recording of our discussions about the best way to get from point A to point B. I should probably interview the Queen and my godson about their recollections to those times since they were first hand witnesses to the experience.
Eventually, we made it to our hotel, Hampton by Hilton on Chancery Street. kitty corner to the giant Four Courts building. The Four Courts building is where all the big trials in Dublin and Ireland are held. Since this is Dublin, our hotel had no parking. There were three spots on the street, but they were marked handicapped. I figured I would drop the Queen with our bags to check in while I drove several blocks away to the Smithfield Center Park Rite on Queen Street.
When I pulled into the spot outside the hotel, I saw a couple sitting on the sidewalk between us and the door into the hotel. Upon further examination, I realized they were busy sorting cigarette butts, I guess, for future usability. The man and woman also had a half full bottle of wine between. They caught me looking at them as I stepped onto the sidewalk on my way to the trunk so I naturally wished them good evening. I think they were surprised somebody actually spoke to them so they wished me a good evening. As I unloaded the bags, they voiced their concerns that I was in a handicapped spot. They warned me the police would be along any second to put a boot on my tire, clamping as it’s called in Ireland, if I wasn’t careful. They then showed us the proper entrance to the hotel. Ah, Dublin. You have to love it. Before I could be clamped, I got in the car and drove to the parking garage. The first thing I saw as I pulled onto what I thought was a one way street was a car coming directly towards me. I think (hope) locals just speed down the street to make a turn and ignore the one way markers.`
I wasn’t sure if The Queen wanted to leave the hotel after settling in so I decided to stop by a pub that had been on my radar: The Cobblestone. I don’t know when the Cobblestone first came to my attention but it is supposedly one of the best places to hear traditional music in Dublin. On Tuesday nights, the night we arrived, is when one of the finest Uilleann pipers in Ireland Néillidh Mulligan, brother to the owner of the Cobblestone plays his pipes. How do I know all this? Their website. Should I care? Maybe. Every time I plan a tour, I promise myself that this tour is the one where I’m going to sit in a pub and listen to a Trad session. It seemed foreordained. The Cobblestone was between the car park and the hotel.
In my rush to get back to the hotel, I didn’t pay a lot of attention to where I left the car park. My brain was spinning a bit trying to get my orientation of where things were and how to get from place to place. I think it was three minutes into the walk back to the hotel, that I realized that I wasn’t quite sure of where I had parked the car.
After a few wrong turns and many glances at Google Maps on the phone to get me oriented, I found my way to the Cobblestone. From the outside, the pub didn’t look very promising. The giant mural on the building next door looked vaguely Mesoamerican. The sign for the Cobblestone looked like it had seen better days and could do with a paint touch up. But I overcame my fears and popped in.
I got one step over the Cobblestone threshold before I met a wall of bodies. I could go no further. I could hear the players playing but I had to stand on my tiptoes to actually see them playing in the corner. I had found the trad session but there was no room in the Cobblestone for me to actually hear them.
I left the Cobblestone and headed through Smithfield Square to find The Queen. Along the way, I popped through an alley that contained the Jameson Distillery. I also spotted St. Michan’s Church where later I hoped to see the mummies, another thing on my must see list. I also learned that Michan’s is pronounced like Mick not Mike.
At the Hampton by Hilton, I asked the Queen if she wanted to get some food. She agreed. I suggested we go to a traditional Irish place called My Meat Wagon. Okay, it wasn’t traditional but ever since I saw their name on the Cobblestone Website on the section of places near by serving food, I needed to go there. According to the maps, it was over in Smithfield probably right above where I parked the car. I tried to lead the Queen by the Jameson Distillery but the gates to that bow lane had been closed.
After some searching, we found My Meat Wagon and it was everything I wanted. The menu was basic. You could have Cow, Pig, or Chicken. Or a combination of those. You could also have it on bread if you desired. The menu remind me a lot of a great BBQ place in Los Angeles called Dr. Hogly Wogly’s Tyler, Texas Style BBQ. Our lovely Argentinian waitress took our order and in about two minutes was back with the food. I could swear all she did was walk back to the counter, order, and then instantly returned with the food. And the food was very good. The Queen and I should probably have just ordered the one tray of meat. The food also came with some really good chips and jalapeño infused mac and cheese. Carbohydrate coma here we come. I could tell I wasn’t in America when I asked our new Argentinian friend about My Meat Wagon merchandise. She looked confused. Why would I want a t-shirt with the restaurants name on it? I took plenty of pictures to solidify the memories.
After dinner, I took the Queen back to the Cobblestone just to show her. We were both able to stand just inside the door and listen to one really good tune. Seats would have made the whole experience better.
Because I’m me and the night was young, I made the Queen walk with me to the Liffey, the main river of Dublin. I didn’t realize it at the time but we took pictures of a bridge named Queen Maeve. We made it to two more bridges, the O’Donovan Rossa Bridge and the Grattan Bridge before the Queen decided she had enough and needed to sleep. Hampton by Hilton was right next to the O’Donovan Rossa. I should have walked with her back to the hotel but my need to see things burned hot. The Queen later stated she had no problem walking the few blocks back to the hotel.
I continued on down to the Ha’penny Bridge, another famous Dublin landmark. The Bridge is called the Ha’penny because that was the toll to use it when the bridge first opened in 1816. I had never photographed the bridge at night and this was probably my only chance to do that. Wednesday night we had plans in a different part of the city. I also took the opportunity to pop into the Merchant Arch Bar which is at the base of the Ha’penny Bridge on the south side of the river. I’d seen pictures of the interior of the Merchant Arch Bar and this beautiful circular staircase and I needed to see that for myself as well.
The Merchant Arch probably didn’t want gawkers in their establishment but I wandered in and took my pictures before I went to the bar and told the bartender of my admiration for his circular staircase. ‘Stupid tourists’, I’m sure flashed through the bartenders mind. I left the bar and made my way back to the hotel. I wanted to get to sleep so I could get back up and do more things.
I was excited to finally be on the ground in Ireland and ready to do all the things I’d be reading about for the last several months. My todo list was very long.
One of the themes of this essay is going to be lack of time. Despite the fact the group had booked 16 days of travel in Ireland, I always had the feeling I needed more time to do things. I wish I could have eaten in Merchant’s Arch but there was no time. The only time to see the bar was those few minutes I grabbed after dinner the first night we were there. I really should talk to the guy who planned this trip and register my complaints.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm