We awoke bright and early thanks to our handy wake-up call. After packing up the rest of our luggage and checking out of the hotel, we headed towards the supermarket for some last minute snacks. We didn't stock up nearly as much as we had earlier in the week, but picked up some more digestivo cookies, an Irish fruit cake for Chad's father, chocolates, and other small goodies. We then took the Flybus back to Dublin Airport where we were to check in at the Enterprise counter.
Now I must give some back story on how we determined what car rental company to use. We must have done research for at least two months before narrowing down the choices. We mainly used the reviews on TripAdvisor.com for our advice (a website I highly recommend regardless of your destination). One thing was certain after reading as many reviews of car rental companies as we could find: most try to scam customers out of as much money as possible. They seem to be unpopular for assessing fees after the car is turned in, claiming that the renters caused more than normal "wear and tear". Since we were on a tight budget, I wanted to minimize the risk of this happening to us.
The other main issue that arose when we were researching car rental was the fact that we would be considered underage (under 24) since the driver, Chad, would be 23 at the time. There are several additional fees because of this minor inconvenience and it increased our car rental cost by nearly 50%. Many car rental companies would not even allow us to rent from them so this slightly hindered our search.
After considerable weighing of our options and research, I made the decision to go with Enterprise. Chad favored another company, Dan Dooley, but in the end he supported my choice. However, that did not mean that he would allow me to forget that the decision was ultimately mine. So imagine my annoyance when we discovered that the Enterprise counter (empty at this point) was hidden in a dark, back corner of the hallway with the car rental companies. At this point, Chad had a very smug look on his face and made a comment about the fact that we walked past people working at the Dan Dooley counter.
We waited for at least fifteen minutes and I grew more irritable as each minute passed, though we were an entire hour early for check-in. Finally, a young girl about our age rushed into the booth to check us in. She was very friendly and everything went as we expected until we got to discussing extra insurance or the super CDW as it is called. We knew that this was something that we wanted to purchase, but had not been able to find out the cost prior to our trip. Unfortunately, the Enterprise girl informed us that the super CDW would cost more due to our being underage. She said that underage Americans are considered to be in the same risk category as Jamicans and Israelis (I would like to see the statistics backing this up) so the super CDW would cost us double the amount that it costs other drivers. Since the super CDW lowered our maximum liability from 1000 euro to 300 euro, we took it despite the higher cost.
We were all set to sign the paperwork and I think Chad had a bit of a heart palpitation when he saw the final dollar amount. It was quite a downer because it included all the costs, like our underage fee, regular CDW, super CDW, actual car rental, and taxes, but then it also included a hold for 250 euro in case of accident or damage. On top of all that, the girl was kind enough to convert it to dollars and so we got to see the total damage in our true currency immediately instead of on our credit card statement. Let's just say at this point we were unsure of whether the car rental was such a good idea.
After our hearts started beating fairly regularly again, we were picked up by an Enterprise shuttle bus and taken to the rental facility. On the Enterprise website we were informed that the highest level of car we could rent, because of our young age, was a class B economy. This meant that we were expecting a crappy two door, such as a Chevy Aveo, that was in less than stellar condition and probably reeked of cigarette smoke. We were quite taken abake to see a spotless and quite new four door Nissan Tiida waiting for us in the parking lot. Despite trying our darndest to find a scratch or something wrong with the exterior, the most we could find was a few scratches on the back bumper. This meant that any damage we did to the car would be blatantly noticable and made us nervous for the rest of the entire trip.
I'll let Chad take it from here and write about his first European driving experience.
2.1.09
Day 4: Turn Right... Stay Left...
At the Enterprise lot, Kristy and I thanked the employees before getting into the spotless Tiida. No problems getting into the right position as we both consciously told ourselves to not look foolish in front of the Enterprise employees. In the car, I adjusted the mirrors, which were nearly perfectly lined up to begin with. I looked around, favoring the right side mirror to determine the distance between the car and the building. Everything seemed in line, almost too easy. I put the car in gear (thank God we got an automatic!!) and crept towards the street.
The approach was good. I felt proud about that. Then, Kristy explained to me that I was actually on the right side of the driveway. Okay, so not so good, but still nothing too bad. I look both ways for traffic and ready myself to make a left turn. The turn was smooth, until Kristy "quietly", "calmly" and "coolly" explained to me that I was turning into oncoming traffic and that I perhaps ought to consider moving left into the lane. During her speech traffic began to come towards us, so I decided that Kristy's suggestion was valid and "guided" the car "gently" into the left lane. Kristy, whose heart apparently stopped, made some frightened noises as I drove into the left lane and, awkwardly, into the traffic circle that came up on us too quickly. I took the first left, feeling rather confident that this was the direction we desired. That confidence faded as we approached a security checkpoint. The gentleman kindly asked us where we were headed and gave us directions. It turned out, I took the wrong turn off of the traffic circle.
As I made a Y-turn that looked more like a *-turn, Kristy began to breathe again. So that was good. We went back towards the M-50, which is what the Irish call a Dual Carriageway (a four lane divided highway). We went through four or five roundabouts and eventually got onto the M-50. With so many roundabouts in succession, we were lucky that the direction to the M-50 was labeled so well; otherwise, there is no way we would not have found it.
On the M-50, driving was pretty simple. The speed limit was 120 km/hr and eventually we got up to speed. We stayed in the left lane and got passed by quite a few cars, but it was a nice drive. Our destination was County Cork, so we had to get off of the M-50 after an hour and we took the N-7 to the M-7. These were regional highways similar to the M-50. The Irish highway system seemed quite nice and gave us a false sense of security.
Kristy and I continued through Kildare and other small Irish villages and towns. Each place was distinctly Irish, but had unique features and businesses. As Kristy and I got more comfortable with the roads, we began to talk about possible destinations. Before we left for Ireland, we decided (upon some advice) not to book hotels for our trip outside of Dublin. It was a great decision and was liberating to know that we could go wherever we wanted to for the rest of the trip. We decided to go to the Old Midleton Distillery in Midleton (a small village outside of Cork City). Kristy used the Atlas and decided on a route to take: R639 to R626. These were smaller roads and we began to understand what Irish country roads were like. They were two-lane winding roads and the lanes were maybe 1-foot larger than the car. Also, the speed limits were 100 km/hr. Needless to say , we pulled over a lot and let people pass us as we traveled along, white-knuckled, at a respectable 50 km/hr. I never did get the car up to the speed limit in County Cork, which had, by far, the most unnerving roads out of anywhere we traveled.
We got to Midleton and found the Jameson Distillery. We pulled into a parking space and walked in to find nobody at the reception desk. We rang the bell and an employee came out and explained that they were still on their Christmas schedule until the next day and we missed the last tour. Being Friday, January 2nd, we had no idea that they would not be on their posted schedule. Anyways, we got to look around the tasting room, gift shop and interactive lobby which gives you a virtual tour of the distillery (we came for a tour and I got one!). It was about 4:00 PM when we left and dusk was already upon us.
We decided to get to Cork and see if the famous Market would be open. The people at the distillery gave us directions and said it should take about 15-minutes. At our speeds, however, we drove into Cork City after about 40-minutes of driving. It was beginning to get quite dark and Cork was not what Kristy was expecting.
Cork was an industrial city and we drove through the docks and headed towards the downtown area. However, during the fifth or sixth roundabout , I missed the exit and we drove up a mountainside without a place to turn around. So, we continued along and discovered the highway to Bandon, a place of interest we were going to visit the next day. After about 15-minutes, Kristy and I were out of Cork City and headed towards the small village of Bandon.
The drive to Bandon was a bit unnerving since night had fully emerged, making it very difficult to see the lines in the road, which wound around and around. Also, with such tight lanes and prickly bushes overgrowing the entire left side of the road, which at times covered the old stone walls, both of our nerves took a beating. Additionally, the left edge of the road sometimes had a 1-foot shoulder and other times part of the lane itself dropped into a ditch about 8-inches deep (we called them ravines or gullies at varying times during our trip).
We arrived in Bandon and noted the sheer amount of traffic and people walking around. It was about 5:00 PM and apparently was the time to be out. We noticed this in all of the places we stopped. Between 5:00 and 7:00 PM, there were loads of people and cars all around the small towns.
We drove down the main street and found a church lot with many cars parked in it. So we parked the car, bid it adieu, and began walking along the street to look for a place to stay the night. I had the name of the hotel that was Michael Collins' last stop before being ambushed and assassinated. We walked along and did not find it, but stumbled into a hotel that I had looked up online. We went into the nice lobby and I saw the famous last picture of Collins framed above the reception desk. Here is the picture:
It turned out that I had the name of the hotel wrong and we were at the hotel where Michael Collins drank his last pint and where the last picture of him was taken. Alright, so we inquire about rooms and book one for the night. They warned us about the noise from the nightclub next door, but gave us the quietest room that they had. Kristy and I went up to the room and loved the irony of it all. Amazingly, in the room, there was a folder about the hotel that included a biography of Michael Collins. It was awesome. However, it was getting late, so we moved the car to a closer lot and brought our luggage to the room. Without an elevator, I lugged both of our bags up the stairs and, as I was now a pro at turning on lights and individual outlets, we were up and running quickly.
Our next quest, find somewhere to eat dinner in Bandon...
The approach was good. I felt proud about that. Then, Kristy explained to me that I was actually on the right side of the driveway. Okay, so not so good, but still nothing too bad. I look both ways for traffic and ready myself to make a left turn. The turn was smooth, until Kristy "quietly", "calmly" and "coolly" explained to me that I was turning into oncoming traffic and that I perhaps ought to consider moving left into the lane. During her speech traffic began to come towards us, so I decided that Kristy's suggestion was valid and "guided" the car "gently" into the left lane. Kristy, whose heart apparently stopped, made some frightened noises as I drove into the left lane and, awkwardly, into the traffic circle that came up on us too quickly. I took the first left, feeling rather confident that this was the direction we desired. That confidence faded as we approached a security checkpoint. The gentleman kindly asked us where we were headed and gave us directions. It turned out, I took the wrong turn off of the traffic circle.
As I made a Y-turn that looked more like a *-turn, Kristy began to breathe again. So that was good. We went back towards the M-50, which is what the Irish call a Dual Carriageway (a four lane divided highway). We went through four or five roundabouts and eventually got onto the M-50. With so many roundabouts in succession, we were lucky that the direction to the M-50 was labeled so well; otherwise, there is no way we would not have found it.
On the M-50, driving was pretty simple. The speed limit was 120 km/hr and eventually we got up to speed. We stayed in the left lane and got passed by quite a few cars, but it was a nice drive. Our destination was County Cork, so we had to get off of the M-50 after an hour and we took the N-7 to the M-7. These were regional highways similar to the M-50. The Irish highway system seemed quite nice and gave us a false sense of security.
Kristy and I continued through Kildare and other small Irish villages and towns. Each place was distinctly Irish, but had unique features and businesses. As Kristy and I got more comfortable with the roads, we began to talk about possible destinations. Before we left for Ireland, we decided (upon some advice) not to book hotels for our trip outside of Dublin. It was a great decision and was liberating to know that we could go wherever we wanted to for the rest of the trip. We decided to go to the Old Midleton Distillery in Midleton (a small village outside of Cork City). Kristy used the Atlas and decided on a route to take: R639 to R626. These were smaller roads and we began to understand what Irish country roads were like. They were two-lane winding roads and the lanes were maybe 1-foot larger than the car. Also, the speed limits were 100 km/hr. Needless to say , we pulled over a lot and let people pass us as we traveled along, white-knuckled, at a respectable 50 km/hr. I never did get the car up to the speed limit in County Cork, which had, by far, the most unnerving roads out of anywhere we traveled.
We got to Midleton and found the Jameson Distillery. We pulled into a parking space and walked in to find nobody at the reception desk. We rang the bell and an employee came out and explained that they were still on their Christmas schedule until the next day and we missed the last tour. Being Friday, January 2nd, we had no idea that they would not be on their posted schedule. Anyways, we got to look around the tasting room, gift shop and interactive lobby which gives you a virtual tour of the distillery (we came for a tour and I got one!). It was about 4:00 PM when we left and dusk was already upon us.
We decided to get to Cork and see if the famous Market would be open. The people at the distillery gave us directions and said it should take about 15-minutes. At our speeds, however, we drove into Cork City after about 40-minutes of driving. It was beginning to get quite dark and Cork was not what Kristy was expecting.
Cork was an industrial city and we drove through the docks and headed towards the downtown area. However, during the fifth or sixth roundabout , I missed the exit and we drove up a mountainside without a place to turn around. So, we continued along and discovered the highway to Bandon, a place of interest we were going to visit the next day. After about 15-minutes, Kristy and I were out of Cork City and headed towards the small village of Bandon.
The drive to Bandon was a bit unnerving since night had fully emerged, making it very difficult to see the lines in the road, which wound around and around. Also, with such tight lanes and prickly bushes overgrowing the entire left side of the road, which at times covered the old stone walls, both of our nerves took a beating. Additionally, the left edge of the road sometimes had a 1-foot shoulder and other times part of the lane itself dropped into a ditch about 8-inches deep (we called them ravines or gullies at varying times during our trip).
We arrived in Bandon and noted the sheer amount of traffic and people walking around. It was about 5:00 PM and apparently was the time to be out. We noticed this in all of the places we stopped. Between 5:00 and 7:00 PM, there were loads of people and cars all around the small towns.
We drove down the main street and found a church lot with many cars parked in it. So we parked the car, bid it adieu, and began walking along the street to look for a place to stay the night. I had the name of the hotel that was Michael Collins' last stop before being ambushed and assassinated. We walked along and did not find it, but stumbled into a hotel that I had looked up online. We went into the nice lobby and I saw the famous last picture of Collins framed above the reception desk. Here is the picture:
It turned out that I had the name of the hotel wrong and we were at the hotel where Michael Collins drank his last pint and where the last picture of him was taken. Alright, so we inquire about rooms and book one for the night. They warned us about the noise from the nightclub next door, but gave us the quietest room that they had. Kristy and I went up to the room and loved the irony of it all. Amazingly, in the room, there was a folder about the hotel that included a biography of Michael Collins. It was awesome. However, it was getting late, so we moved the car to a closer lot and brought our luggage to the room. Without an elevator, I lugged both of our bags up the stairs and, as I was now a pro at turning on lights and individual outlets, we were up and running quickly.
Our next quest, find somewhere to eat dinner in Bandon...
Day 4: A Taste of Italy in Ireland
Since Bandon was a town that consisted of two main streets, we chose to ask the friendly front desk girl about a dinner recommendation. She suggested the Italian restaurant next door to the hotel and said that it always received good reviews. Since this was a convenient option and apparently one of the only choices for dinner that evening, we decided to go with her referral.
We walked next door to the Italistro and were greeted warmly by a server the moment we walked in the door. She politely asked us to wait for a minute as she did a quick scan of the room. We took a look around for ourselves and noticed only three tables were occupied since it was just 5 PM. Yet upon further inspection, every other table had a reserved sign on it. Lucky for us, our server managed to squeeze us in at a small table in the back corner near the kitchen which was perfect because we were able to view the entire restaurant.
As we perused the menu, I ordered a glass of the Italian house white wine and Chad requested a coca-cola, his drink of choice for the trip. The menu was full of the traditional Italian fare. Chad opted to go with Polpette al Pomodoro (traditional spaghetti and meatballs) while I ordered a tagliatelle dish with a creamy parmesan sauce and fresh basil.
It felt a little funny being in an Italian restaurant where the guests all had Irish accents, but it was wonderful to sit back and watch the two warm and welcoming cultures interact. Most of the people there early were apparent regulars who were familiar with the staff. They lingered over their bottles of wine and bid "cheers until next week" as they departed. It was particularly touching to see how the staff reacted when a little girl had an accident in the middle of her meal. They somehow managed to find some new clothes for her to borrow and cleaned everything up so the family could finish their meal without rushing to get home.
Our food came out as hot as we had come to expect our Irish food and, although we did not immediately dig in, the smell was almost as good as tasting. The food was delicious, particularly the amazing garlic bread, which was just the right combination of crisp edges and soft middle, as well as flavorful without being greasy. Mmm-mmm good.
When we finished our meal, the restaurant still was not full and in fact had lost some guests who had completed their meals. The table next to us was set up for a party of at least 12 and I was determined to still be in the restaurant when they arrived. Since we had to "burn some time", Chad and I scoured the dessert menu and contemplated whether or not our tummies could hold any more food after our wonderful meal.
We finally settled on a molten chocolate cake, which the server said was their most popular dessert and of course their most expensive. Since we were near the kitchen door we were able to catch glimpses of the steps that went into making this dessert. It was an elaborate process that took at least fifteen minutes, but when it was finally presented (as shown in our picture) it was understandable that such great lengths were taken to make such a masterpiece. The dessert tasted as good as it looked and we savored every delectable bite.
By the time we finished, the large party next to us was starting to arrive. By listening to snipets of conversations, we gathered that it was a Christmas celebration. Although I desperately wanted to stay and spy some more, we could not possibly squeeze one more thing into our tummies. I have also been told that I look quite conspicuous when I am being a creeper and did not want to ruin the Irish Christmas gathering with my nosiness. Therefore, we asked for our check (il conto per favore- aha I remember some Italian!) and paid our bill.
We sauntered back to our hotel room content to rest and prepare for another early morning of driving. Upon further inspection of our bathroom, we discovered that our tub had jacuzzi jets which were an added bonus that we had not thought we would find in such an old hotel. While Chad decided to soak his muscles, which were weary from some tense driving moments, I enjoyed looking over the map and plotting out another day of letting the roads be our guide. Our wakeup call was scheduled and we had our first Irish breakfast to look forward to in the morning. It was an excellent evening and the next day promised to be just as special.
We walked next door to the Italistro and were greeted warmly by a server the moment we walked in the door. She politely asked us to wait for a minute as she did a quick scan of the room. We took a look around for ourselves and noticed only three tables were occupied since it was just 5 PM. Yet upon further inspection, every other table had a reserved sign on it. Lucky for us, our server managed to squeeze us in at a small table in the back corner near the kitchen which was perfect because we were able to view the entire restaurant.
As we perused the menu, I ordered a glass of the Italian house white wine and Chad requested a coca-cola, his drink of choice for the trip. The menu was full of the traditional Italian fare. Chad opted to go with Polpette al Pomodoro (traditional spaghetti and meatballs) while I ordered a tagliatelle dish with a creamy parmesan sauce and fresh basil.
It felt a little funny being in an Italian restaurant where the guests all had Irish accents, but it was wonderful to sit back and watch the two warm and welcoming cultures interact. Most of the people there early were apparent regulars who were familiar with the staff. They lingered over their bottles of wine and bid "cheers until next week" as they departed. It was particularly touching to see how the staff reacted when a little girl had an accident in the middle of her meal. They somehow managed to find some new clothes for her to borrow and cleaned everything up so the family could finish their meal without rushing to get home.
Our food came out as hot as we had come to expect our Irish food and, although we did not immediately dig in, the smell was almost as good as tasting. The food was delicious, particularly the amazing garlic bread, which was just the right combination of crisp edges and soft middle, as well as flavorful without being greasy. Mmm-mmm good.
When we finished our meal, the restaurant still was not full and in fact had lost some guests who had completed their meals. The table next to us was set up for a party of at least 12 and I was determined to still be in the restaurant when they arrived. Since we had to "burn some time", Chad and I scoured the dessert menu and contemplated whether or not our tummies could hold any more food after our wonderful meal.
We finally settled on a molten chocolate cake, which the server said was their most popular dessert and of course their most expensive. Since we were near the kitchen door we were able to catch glimpses of the steps that went into making this dessert. It was an elaborate process that took at least fifteen minutes, but when it was finally presented (as shown in our picture) it was understandable that such great lengths were taken to make such a masterpiece. The dessert tasted as good as it looked and we savored every delectable bite.
By the time we finished, the large party next to us was starting to arrive. By listening to snipets of conversations, we gathered that it was a Christmas celebration. Although I desperately wanted to stay and spy some more, we could not possibly squeeze one more thing into our tummies. I have also been told that I look quite conspicuous when I am being a creeper and did not want to ruin the Irish Christmas gathering with my nosiness. Therefore, we asked for our check (il conto per favore- aha I remember some Italian!) and paid our bill.
We sauntered back to our hotel room content to rest and prepare for another early morning of driving. Upon further inspection of our bathroom, we discovered that our tub had jacuzzi jets which were an added bonus that we had not thought we would find in such an old hotel. While Chad decided to soak his muscles, which were weary from some tense driving moments, I enjoyed looking over the map and plotting out another day of letting the roads be our guide. Our wakeup call was scheduled and we had our first Irish breakfast to look forward to in the morning. It was an excellent evening and the next day promised to be just as special.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)