June 17 Dublin to Haywards Heath

Our last morning in Ireland... a little sad.  But at least there's a week in England to look forward to.

For the second day in a row, in two different places across Ireland from one another, I asked for eggs, beans, and tomato and got eggs, bacon, and tomato.  I wonder if they’re just hearing what they’re used to hearing.  Not sure.  As time passes, the bacon seems to be saltier to my taste, so I’m avoiding it more.  Chocoholic that I am, I’m still enjoying my hot chocolate every morning.  I’m sure I’m gaining weight.  Not happy about this!  Also I’m having more pain in my hips sleeping on the harder beds than what I’m used to.  But I’m in touring mode now, so nothing will stop me!  The Celtic Lodge in Dublin is probably, other than the place I stayed at in Belfast, the most basic accommodation I’ve encountered.  Interesting that both are in Ireland’s largest cities.  And the price was higher too.  But the wifi worked very well and there was hot water, so the basic needs were met. 

Since it was our last morning in Ireland, I looked around with greater scrutiny.  The area north of the Liffey, same as south of the Liffey by and large, was mainly row houses a few stories high.  We went to the local Butlers chocolate shop, as planned, and I bought a few more of the dark mint truffle bars and got them to give me receipts to get my VAT (value added tax – national sales tax) back.  By this time I’d accumulated quite a few different types of receipts for getting VAT back.   I was to learn shortly what a racket this is.

We wheeled our stuff the few blocks to the airport bus stop outside the bus station, giving ourselves a lot of time.  This was to be our fourth time through this tunnel that connects the airport area with downtown.  This sort of thing is not typically that unusual, but this tunnel doesn’t go under water, and takes 5 minutes.  In fact, I don’t even think it even goes underground.  For cars going through this tunnel,  the round trip is 10 euro.  We didn’t pay it, of course, being in a bus.  This trip to the airport took only about a half hour. 

In the airport security line, as with Boston, the lines were short, but here they were particularly antsy about gels and liquids, even the tiny packets of shampoo.  There were no body scanners.  The VAT office was tucked away in a tiny corner (so that people would easily miss it).  I'm sure they're not anxious to give VAT money back.  There were two sets of counters and staff, and a few kiosks over to one side.  I found out, much to my dismay, that there are Three Different Methods of claiming VAT, and it depends on how the store wrote your receipt as to which one(s) you would use.  In my case, I had to use all three (2 different clerks and a kiosk), filling in forms ad nauseum.  As if this weren’t bad enough, just as I was almost done filling out long forms for each receipt that I had, a small busload of Japanese tourists came in with their receipts and were, like me, learning the ropes of these crazy systems.  I was afraid I’d never get out of there.  I asked one of the staffers, who could think this arrangement is a good idea?  She said I would be surprised.  And I am.  (As of this writing, over two months after leaving Ireland, I’m still waiting for the VAT refunds.)

There is a Chocolate Lounge in the terminal (2)!  I had to investigate.  It was almost like a bar type of lounge, but they were serving hot chocolate drinks and such.  They weren’t set up for takeout, but I took away a chocolate mint brownie sold to me on a plate.  I’d wanted ice cream, since they were keeping the terminal on the warm side, but there was none to be had.  I could have stayed and had hot chocolate, but had just done that a couple hours before at breakfast.  In the next stall over from the lounge, they listed chocolate sundae amongst their offerings, and I asked what was in it.  It was hot chocolate!  Huh?  It’s pretty comical how the language is used.

The flight to Gatwick (south of London) was only an hour, but made really uncomfortable by this screaming toddler in the seat in front of me.  It was screaming even before we left the terminal.  I’d never heard a kid scream so loudly and for so long (and for what reason, I couldn’t figure).  At one point I heard the mother say, ‘do you want to see the dinosaurs when you get home’ and the kid shut up.. for a while.  After the flight was over, I saw the kid punching a handheld device (ah, That’s why the crew kept asking people to shut off their devices…)  Ach du lieber!  And here I thought (assumed) British kids were kept under better control than their American counterparts.

I was pretty surprised that all those coming into Gatwick airport from Ireland (and the Isle of Man and Channel Islands) all go to a different line from everyone else, where they just check your boarding pass, and then you get into the country!  Good grief!  Talk about leaky borders!  I guess there are pretty free borders between Ireland and UK all around.  I’d gone from Ireland to Northern Ireland and back without even knowing it.  The other amazing thing was the honor system associated with the customs part of things.  There were two portals you can go .. declaring nothing, and declaring something.  I just walked with Lorraine into the former and there were no officials around!   I wonder if they don’t have problems with folks bringing in diseased or invasive plants and animals, or whether the people who come to Britain operate honorably on the honor system.  I realized I needed some Pounds Sterling again, so checked out an ATM and compared the rates and fees with the money changing office right nearby.  The ATM was about 10 cents better per pound.  Good to know!  We found our way to the train station pretty easily; it was just downstairs, like every airport should be configured!  I started to notice how English society is more multi-national and multi-cultural than Ireland.  I knew that, having seen statistics about how white Ireland is.  Since then, I’ve read how, particularly western Ireland, hasn’t changed much in millennia, and those who constructed and lived in the stone forts and beehive huts, the “black” Irish,  actually came from Spain.  The “red” Irish were Vikings of course.  But I digress.

Lorraine lives in a nice house with a lovely garden out back, and for the first time since I’ve arrived over here, I had time to really relax, not just for a moment to catch my breath, or hide from rain and wind under an overhang.  Laundry!  What a concept.  This was the first time I’ve hung wash on a line since I was a kid, when I lived in a house!  We did a little weeding of the back garden, and tossing into the green “organics” recycling bin (there’s also a blue one and a black one).  Grocery shopping at Sainsbury’s!  This one has signs urging customers to buy things in recyclable packaging.  Reminded me of my PhD dissertation project where I was designing and putting up environmental shopping campaigns in supermarkets in Manhattan 20 years ago.  The literature I designed (and still have 3 boxes of.. looking for takers).  There were so many new (to me) and exciting products.  We got some great food for dinner and upcoming meals, followed by one of the nicest meals here, finished by some Haagen Dazs chocolate decadence, a creation I’ve not seen in the US.  It’s not only deep chocolate, but there is chocolate sauce swirling through it, which somehow remains liquid!   Took pix of the red sunset and I’m hopeful for a nice day tomorrow.