09-27-2014, 01:02 AM
DONKEY FORDS
Tremendous tail winds behind the plane shortened our trip by an hour and we arrived at Shannon at 5:20. The Irish being Irish weren’t quite ready for our arrival especially as another plane from New York landed at the same time.
My parents and I waited for everyone to disembark before we left. There was a bit of a wait for the gentlemen with the wheelchairs. My mother needed a quick trip to the toilet before we went through passport control, which was deserted when we got there.
In Boston, our trip from plane to baggage carousel had taken so long, they were getting ready to put our bags down as lost. Here in Shannon, they still hadn’t unloaded any bags off the plane. It was almost like they were waiting for our actual arrival time before they brought out the bags.
While we waited for the bags, I enacted another ritual which is becoming something of a tradition, last performed at LAX. I opened my passport wallet and dumped all my Euros onto the floor of the baggage area.
Since the Euros were out, I gave two 5’s to my father so he could tip the wheel chair assistants. It always freaks my mother and father out when I pay for things on the trip. There are immediate cries of “Don’t spend your money” or “I have plenty of money and I’m paying for everything” All true, but there money is never handy.
When the time actually comes to tip the handlers, who went so far as to help me off load the bags from the carousel and put them on the cart, my dad hands me the Euros and two 5 dollar bills as well.
Um, Dad? I have more Euros right here on the floor we could give them. My father gets angry that I am not doing what I am told and just giving the American money to the boys. My thinking is if I was in Ireland, it would be a pain in the ass to have to change one 5 dollar bill. Why not just give him some of the small Euro notes I have in my pocket?
Angry father tells me to forget about it. He’ll take care of it. And proceeds to give the American money to the wheel chair assistants. They are gracious enough to just say Thank you.
Our White Ford rental car was big by Irish standards but would be tiny in the US. It was not much bigger than a Honda Fit. I convinced my parents to take the long trek across the road to the loading zone since I didn’t see any area in front of the terminal to bring the car around.
I played Tetris with the bags, the back seat, and the trunk, eventually getting them all to fit. But I didn’t have a hope of using my rear view mirror.
I was pretty foggy after the flight. The sun hadn’t quite risen and a light rain was fallen. I’m now driving from what should be the passenger seat on the wrong side of the road and I’m using a manual transmission for the first time since 2011. My little brain had to juggle a lot of things in order to keep us from a fiery crash.
Before he gets in the car, my father tells me I was driving much too fast in Boston and I need to slow it down. In effort to keep me from multiple homicide convictions, after I have settled in the car, I ask my father to shut up and not help me for fifteen minutes. Fifteen little minutes.
He couldn’t do it. I think we made it to the first roundabout after the airport before he chimed in about driving and where was I going. I gave him a warning bark, but he paid it no heed.
He had to question my choice of exits to get us to the hotel. He wondered why we hadn’t turned off yet. He asked about the upcoming toll road. I used all my wavering skills to get us to the Strand Hotel.
Oh, they were nice at the Strand. I figured they wouldn’t let us check in until Noon, which is standard hotel operating procedure, but Susan, my favorite receptionist at that moment, said our rooms were ready and we could go up. They had a handicap room for the parents and a room facing the river for me. Granted, it wasn’t the one at the end of the hotel I envisioned, but I think those are all suites. I am happy to sit in my chair in the room and watch the Shannon flow passed King John’s Castle and St.Mary’s Cathedral.
We have breakfast in the River Restaurant in the Strand. My father is again angry because the porter misled him about the location of the restaurant. Oddly enough, my father has been in this same restaurant in 2011.
Breakfast is good. I eat all the brown bread. All. I am led to believe they don’t have calories in Ireland so I am eating all I want. Mmmmm, Irish sausage.
After breakfast, the first order of business for the parents is napping. Screw that. I’m wound too tight to sit so I grab the camera and head off. Plus, it is sunny. I’m not making the excuse of waiting for another sunny day. Strike while the iron is hot.
My father, I think jokingly, asked if there were still swans to be photographed on the Shannon, so my first stop was the boat ramp near the Shannon bridge where the swans are known to hang out. Somebody was kind enough to be feeding them so a large flock was already in attendance.
Limerick sits astride the Shannon River and has three bridges to cross it and a motor tunnel that goes under it. When I lived here, there were only two bridges and no tunnel. Yes, traffic was a nightmare then, thanks for asking.
The Strand Hotel is on the North side of the River while the main portions of the town is on the South. The Sarsfield bridge starts right at the hotel’s front door. If my room window opened, I could throw rocks into the river.
One of the great features of this hotel is a wrap around balcony on the sixth floor outside the conference rooms. Going up there was also an early stop.
I crossed over into the city via the Shannon Bridge, also known as the new bridge. I was hunting spots that I had photographed in 1993 and hadn’t revisited. I found the church I needed on Henry Street. Stopped at the Wolf Tone pub where Richard Harris used to hang out. Ventured down St. Joseph Street which is where the wedding will be taking place. It is also where my girlfriend used to live. But I am not a stalker. I am not.
I cut through People’s Park and over to Percy Square for more photograph updates. I walked to the train station, which didn’t get the memo about cleaning up the city for the Tidy Town competition.
I stopped at St. Mary’s Cathedral, the oldest structure in the city dating from the 1100’s. It sits on King’s Island. I didn’t know there was an island in the center of this city until I kept looking at maps recently. Way to pay attention.
When I entered the crowded St. John’s cathedral, it took me a few moments to realize it was crowded because there was a funeral going on. Two coffins rested up by the altar. I was thinking now was not a good time to be investigating the cathedral.
On the way back to the hotel, I passed by what used to be the one Chinese restaurant in town, the Lido. They ceased to exist back in 1993, but I still wander by. They made the best chips in town. If you know me, you know why this is a highlight.
Friends of my father’s, Marie and Tom Hurley were going to be stopping by the hotel at 2pm. I think they delayed a trip to the Canary Islands so they could meet with the folks. I showed them the wedding album and my old Limerick photo album which I made for this trip.
Marie brought biscuits and some cranberry juice for my mother. My mother mainlines cranberry juice to prevent bladder infections. She needs 100% pure Cranberry Juice for it to be effective. Guess what you can’t find in Limerick? Guess who was still tasked to find it?
I told my parents I was going back out for another photo walk, still no naps for Greg. My mother wanted to give me $20 US to buy the Cranberry Juice. Again, don’t we know what currency we are using in this country. And if you do know, why are you making my job harder by making me change your money first before I go buy something with it.
I tell her to keep it. I have a bunch of Euros already. My mother tells me she doesn’t want me spending my money. This is where my last nerve strained and snapped. I said “Why should you worry about $20 bucks when you have already stolen thousands from me?”
So, that happened.
Long silence in the room. Then there were some angry words. And I left for my walk.
On my morning walk, when the sun was rising, all the building were pretty much in shadow. Being the madman, I did the same walk again, starting with the swans and ending at Thomond bridge, which is the third bridge and ends at King John’s castle.
I got back to the hotel to coordinate where we were dining. Well, the parents were too tired to go out but it should would be nice for Greg to go to Donkey Ford’s and pick up some Fish and Chips.
My mother also wants me to sit down so we can talk about things. Another thing I don’t like doing is sitting down and talking about things. We get out the dull knives and go at each other. My father tells me just to listen. With ill grace, I do.
My mother takes out the cash she brought for the trip and gives me the majority of it saying that’s a start. She wants me to write down how much she has paid me, so that if she dies, I will still get the rest in her will. I mention that she isn’t giving me anything, she is returning what she stole.
Boy, this is fun. I feel great. I tried to tell her I had put this behind me long ago and she should just keep it. But no. “I’ll just use my credit cards to buy gifts”, she says.
Off to Donkey Ford’s. Donkey Ford’s was the place my father and his pals would go for drunk food from the pub. Tom Hurlihy and he had talked about it earlier in the day and I guessed it sparked some nostalgia.
They tell me I had probably walked by it when I walked from St. John’s Cathedral to the Lido. I could find it.
I did find it. After realizing the name on the door was simply Ford’s. It was a seedy little place consisting of a walk-up counter and a menu board probably made in the seventies. All the food was visible behind glass panels. It looked like if you wanted food, you wanted it fried.
The lady behind the counter did say the name was Donkey Ford’s as she wrapped up all the food in butcher paper and put it into a butcher paper bag. Very monotone, this store. I got back to the car which was double parked on the street, a Limerick tradition honed by the locals, and drove back to the hotel.
If the brownie and the ice cream didn’t drive them into the grave this bag of greasy fat certainly will.
I went to my room where I realized I had lost my fitbit. My addiction to the device is pretty bad at this point. If I don’t have it on when I exercise, then I am not really exercising. So, before I went to bed I had to find a place locally that would sell me one. I did and it was only fifty dollars more expensive than in the United States. I should just start buying them in bulk or have the device implanted.
I went to bed but my mind was still spinning. I did fall asleep after about an hour of puzzling the day and thinking about the fit-bit.
I snapped awake after what I thought was a good night’s rest but turned out to be only two hours. Jet lag is your friend. And I was wide awake. So, I did what any normal person would do, I wrote in the journal for an hour.
That is what normal people do, right?
Tremendous tail winds behind the plane shortened our trip by an hour and we arrived at Shannon at 5:20. The Irish being Irish weren’t quite ready for our arrival especially as another plane from New York landed at the same time.
My parents and I waited for everyone to disembark before we left. There was a bit of a wait for the gentlemen with the wheelchairs. My mother needed a quick trip to the toilet before we went through passport control, which was deserted when we got there.
In Boston, our trip from plane to baggage carousel had taken so long, they were getting ready to put our bags down as lost. Here in Shannon, they still hadn’t unloaded any bags off the plane. It was almost like they were waiting for our actual arrival time before they brought out the bags.
While we waited for the bags, I enacted another ritual which is becoming something of a tradition, last performed at LAX. I opened my passport wallet and dumped all my Euros onto the floor of the baggage area.
Since the Euros were out, I gave two 5’s to my father so he could tip the wheel chair assistants. It always freaks my mother and father out when I pay for things on the trip. There are immediate cries of “Don’t spend your money” or “I have plenty of money and I’m paying for everything” All true, but there money is never handy.
When the time actually comes to tip the handlers, who went so far as to help me off load the bags from the carousel and put them on the cart, my dad hands me the Euros and two 5 dollar bills as well.
Um, Dad? I have more Euros right here on the floor we could give them. My father gets angry that I am not doing what I am told and just giving the American money to the boys. My thinking is if I was in Ireland, it would be a pain in the ass to have to change one 5 dollar bill. Why not just give him some of the small Euro notes I have in my pocket?
Angry father tells me to forget about it. He’ll take care of it. And proceeds to give the American money to the wheel chair assistants. They are gracious enough to just say Thank you.
Our White Ford rental car was big by Irish standards but would be tiny in the US. It was not much bigger than a Honda Fit. I convinced my parents to take the long trek across the road to the loading zone since I didn’t see any area in front of the terminal to bring the car around.
I played Tetris with the bags, the back seat, and the trunk, eventually getting them all to fit. But I didn’t have a hope of using my rear view mirror.
I was pretty foggy after the flight. The sun hadn’t quite risen and a light rain was fallen. I’m now driving from what should be the passenger seat on the wrong side of the road and I’m using a manual transmission for the first time since 2011. My little brain had to juggle a lot of things in order to keep us from a fiery crash.
Before he gets in the car, my father tells me I was driving much too fast in Boston and I need to slow it down. In effort to keep me from multiple homicide convictions, after I have settled in the car, I ask my father to shut up and not help me for fifteen minutes. Fifteen little minutes.
He couldn’t do it. I think we made it to the first roundabout after the airport before he chimed in about driving and where was I going. I gave him a warning bark, but he paid it no heed.
He had to question my choice of exits to get us to the hotel. He wondered why we hadn’t turned off yet. He asked about the upcoming toll road. I used all my wavering skills to get us to the Strand Hotel.
Oh, they were nice at the Strand. I figured they wouldn’t let us check in until Noon, which is standard hotel operating procedure, but Susan, my favorite receptionist at that moment, said our rooms were ready and we could go up. They had a handicap room for the parents and a room facing the river for me. Granted, it wasn’t the one at the end of the hotel I envisioned, but I think those are all suites. I am happy to sit in my chair in the room and watch the Shannon flow passed King John’s Castle and St.Mary’s Cathedral.
We have breakfast in the River Restaurant in the Strand. My father is again angry because the porter misled him about the location of the restaurant. Oddly enough, my father has been in this same restaurant in 2011.
Breakfast is good. I eat all the brown bread. All. I am led to believe they don’t have calories in Ireland so I am eating all I want. Mmmmm, Irish sausage.
After breakfast, the first order of business for the parents is napping. Screw that. I’m wound too tight to sit so I grab the camera and head off. Plus, it is sunny. I’m not making the excuse of waiting for another sunny day. Strike while the iron is hot.
My father, I think jokingly, asked if there were still swans to be photographed on the Shannon, so my first stop was the boat ramp near the Shannon bridge where the swans are known to hang out. Somebody was kind enough to be feeding them so a large flock was already in attendance.
Limerick sits astride the Shannon River and has three bridges to cross it and a motor tunnel that goes under it. When I lived here, there were only two bridges and no tunnel. Yes, traffic was a nightmare then, thanks for asking.
The Strand Hotel is on the North side of the River while the main portions of the town is on the South. The Sarsfield bridge starts right at the hotel’s front door. If my room window opened, I could throw rocks into the river.
One of the great features of this hotel is a wrap around balcony on the sixth floor outside the conference rooms. Going up there was also an early stop.
I crossed over into the city via the Shannon Bridge, also known as the new bridge. I was hunting spots that I had photographed in 1993 and hadn’t revisited. I found the church I needed on Henry Street. Stopped at the Wolf Tone pub where Richard Harris used to hang out. Ventured down St. Joseph Street which is where the wedding will be taking place. It is also where my girlfriend used to live. But I am not a stalker. I am not.
I cut through People’s Park and over to Percy Square for more photograph updates. I walked to the train station, which didn’t get the memo about cleaning up the city for the Tidy Town competition.
I stopped at St. Mary’s Cathedral, the oldest structure in the city dating from the 1100’s. It sits on King’s Island. I didn’t know there was an island in the center of this city until I kept looking at maps recently. Way to pay attention.
When I entered the crowded St. John’s cathedral, it took me a few moments to realize it was crowded because there was a funeral going on. Two coffins rested up by the altar. I was thinking now was not a good time to be investigating the cathedral.
On the way back to the hotel, I passed by what used to be the one Chinese restaurant in town, the Lido. They ceased to exist back in 1993, but I still wander by. They made the best chips in town. If you know me, you know why this is a highlight.
Friends of my father’s, Marie and Tom Hurley were going to be stopping by the hotel at 2pm. I think they delayed a trip to the Canary Islands so they could meet with the folks. I showed them the wedding album and my old Limerick photo album which I made for this trip.
Marie brought biscuits and some cranberry juice for my mother. My mother mainlines cranberry juice to prevent bladder infections. She needs 100% pure Cranberry Juice for it to be effective. Guess what you can’t find in Limerick? Guess who was still tasked to find it?
I told my parents I was going back out for another photo walk, still no naps for Greg. My mother wanted to give me $20 US to buy the Cranberry Juice. Again, don’t we know what currency we are using in this country. And if you do know, why are you making my job harder by making me change your money first before I go buy something with it.
I tell her to keep it. I have a bunch of Euros already. My mother tells me she doesn’t want me spending my money. This is where my last nerve strained and snapped. I said “Why should you worry about $20 bucks when you have already stolen thousands from me?”
So, that happened.
Long silence in the room. Then there were some angry words. And I left for my walk.
On my morning walk, when the sun was rising, all the building were pretty much in shadow. Being the madman, I did the same walk again, starting with the swans and ending at Thomond bridge, which is the third bridge and ends at King John’s castle.
I got back to the hotel to coordinate where we were dining. Well, the parents were too tired to go out but it should would be nice for Greg to go to Donkey Ford’s and pick up some Fish and Chips.
My mother also wants me to sit down so we can talk about things. Another thing I don’t like doing is sitting down and talking about things. We get out the dull knives and go at each other. My father tells me just to listen. With ill grace, I do.
My mother takes out the cash she brought for the trip and gives me the majority of it saying that’s a start. She wants me to write down how much she has paid me, so that if she dies, I will still get the rest in her will. I mention that she isn’t giving me anything, she is returning what she stole.
Boy, this is fun. I feel great. I tried to tell her I had put this behind me long ago and she should just keep it. But no. “I’ll just use my credit cards to buy gifts”, she says.
Off to Donkey Ford’s. Donkey Ford’s was the place my father and his pals would go for drunk food from the pub. Tom Hurlihy and he had talked about it earlier in the day and I guessed it sparked some nostalgia.
They tell me I had probably walked by it when I walked from St. John’s Cathedral to the Lido. I could find it.
I did find it. After realizing the name on the door was simply Ford’s. It was a seedy little place consisting of a walk-up counter and a menu board probably made in the seventies. All the food was visible behind glass panels. It looked like if you wanted food, you wanted it fried.
The lady behind the counter did say the name was Donkey Ford’s as she wrapped up all the food in butcher paper and put it into a butcher paper bag. Very monotone, this store. I got back to the car which was double parked on the street, a Limerick tradition honed by the locals, and drove back to the hotel.
If the brownie and the ice cream didn’t drive them into the grave this bag of greasy fat certainly will.
I went to my room where I realized I had lost my fitbit. My addiction to the device is pretty bad at this point. If I don’t have it on when I exercise, then I am not really exercising. So, before I went to bed I had to find a place locally that would sell me one. I did and it was only fifty dollars more expensive than in the United States. I should just start buying them in bulk or have the device implanted.
I went to bed but my mind was still spinning. I did fall asleep after about an hour of puzzling the day and thinking about the fit-bit.
I snapped awake after what I thought was a good night’s rest but turned out to be only two hours. Jet lag is your friend. And I was wide awake. So, I did what any normal person would do, I wrote in the journal for an hour.
That is what normal people do, right?
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit