Smelling of Guinness

I am so blessed that Kevin was with me for my first ten days in Ireland.  Both Kevin and I had very busy summers; it was lovely to have this extended time together.  Kevin was helpful in every way.  When I was stressed out about the apartment hunt and taking a “bird in the hand” approach, he encouraged me to hold out for the right place. 

But I am ahead of myself…  Our flight to Dublin arrived a little early.  I expected to breeze through customs, but the immigration officer, who seemed skeptical of my reason for entering the country, questioned me extensively and asked for documentation of my claims.  The officer took my picture and wrote in my passport that I needed to report to the Guarda (police) station in Galway within a month to register with Immigration and receive “permission to remain.”  This did not come as a surprise as my research indicated that I would need to do this and I had received a “permit to stay” in Florence seven years ago.  Still, I found the experience unsettling and it increased my empathy for immigrants—if I was nervous when I had little to loose, how much more so those who have so much more at stake.

The rest of our arrival story is a tale of luck and magic.  We practically waltzed from the terminal onto a bus that took us straight to Galway.  When we got off the bus we were surprised to find ourselves across the street from the hotel we were staying at for the first few nights.  This was especially lucky as I was travelling with quite a lot of baggage.   No need to call a cab!

I was only in Galway about an hour when I bought a cell phone.  I knew I would buy a phone quickly, but the purchase felt impulsive.  It turned out to be a very good decision because we needed to give a phone number to apartment brokers in order to make appointments to see listings.  I bought the cheapest phone available and am using a “pay as you go” system, which I like very much.

Kevin and I were exhausted, but we hoped to stay awake as long as possible (7:00 PM was our goal).  We found a pub, The King’s Head, in the nearby Latin Quarter.  The King’s Head has been in existence since the 13^th century.  On the advice of NWU Board of Governor’s member, Judith Maurer, I ordered the West Coast Atlantic Fish Chowder.  Heavenly!  When our drinks were delivered (water only), the waitress spilled some Guinness on me.  She felt terrible about it, but I was tickled.  Why not smell of Guinness within hours of arrival in Ireland?

We walked around town as long as felt possible and were asleep by about 6:00 PM.  We both slept about twelve hours and woke the next day ready to tackle the apartment hunt.  

Ready to go at the Lincoln airport (picture by Mary Hawk, airport drop-off-er extraordinaire)