< Drive On Left!

Standing at the Rental Care Desk as we are about to get our car......

"Can you drive a stick shift?" The Agent asks me.

"Yep'

"Do you know that we drive on the left side of the road?"

"Yep"

"That's lovely...I think you are good to go!" 

He hands me the key. Makaila and I head out into the traffic as she reaches for the smelling salts.

I hate backseat and front seat drivers but I told Makaila...."You are free to constantly remind me....Drive on the left, drive on the left." And she is free to constantly remind me of the beside-the-street-corner traffic lights in Ireland...as opposed to the hanging-over-the-middle-of-the-intersection traffic lights in the U.S.

We put Dublin, literally, in our rear view mirror and headed out to M50, I believe. We've got an Air B&B set for our first couple of nights. I don't understand....the speed limit on the highway...rather comparable to say, Hiway 33 in Ohio....is, something or other...I forget...but my point is that nobody is speeding. Even those in the fast lane are speeding...at least, I think the "fast lane" is the right hand lane. I remain in the left lane...staying behind others. 

We note that our Peugot has Blue Tooth for the radio but no air conditioning.

                              

Last year we rented a car on the island of Mljet in Croatia. We already noted that the island roads were narrow and few places to park if one wanted to admire the stunning scenery. The rental car guy on the island said, "Pretty much every place on the island is a parking lot."

The same goes..at least what we have seen in Ireland...so far. 

Pretty much every place in Ireland is a parking lot.

                  

The major hiways are fine. The secondary roads are a bit more tight, but the backroads are really tiny and there is just enough room for two compact cars to pass...usually at about 60 mph (yes, I am aware it is kph). But if someone wants to stop and go see a wind-swept beach....they just pull over as far left....put the car in park....lock it up....and walk down the road to the vista point.

I'll leave you to get a picture of that in your mind.

                        

I'm the driver and Makaila is the navigator. I'll drive wherever she says we are headed and I'll eat wherever she says to eat. It's a good system...one that she refers to "be-bopping" ....which loosely translated means....that we go wherever we want and sometimes miss the big stuff and important stuff...but it makes for an uncharted day. 

And we like that.

                

Here is the far side of the town of Wicklow. I suppose it is a day trip for Dubliners...and probably one of the first places that travelers like us, who have rented a car in Dublin, will stumble across in the first few hours of their driving.

                          

Across a simple bridge in Wicklow is, what is possibly the Best Sign EVER!

We just KNEW that the town council had to place that sign there after some little kid got his/her head stuck beween the concrete railings...and not doubt the local firefighters had to saw the railings out to free the child. Sure enough, on the other end of the bridge was a Mom and Dad with two little kids and what were the kids doing?

Putting their heads through the concrete railings!!

We informed the local police and those kids were busted!

This is such a lawless society.

We managed a seemingly simple circle tour from our B&B...down south a few miles and circling back. The Wicklow Mountains and valleys were stunning...though I could not take my eyes off the road for a second due to curves, hills, and what must have been the Tour de France...as every cyclist in Ireland seemed to be concentrated in the Wicklow mountains. 

                            

Just a note about the picture above...some sort of painting on the side of a bridge that is both cool and creepy.

                      

And this picture...above...may be one of my favorites of all-time. It's in front of a massive church in Dublin. I'd like to imagine that this is one of the faithful...though these are tough times for the Catholic Church.  But, there is one waiting...waiting for Mass, for answers, for God only knows.

Having grown up on the flatlands of NW Ohio in the Midwest...I continually wonder what it would be like to grow up living near the sea. The call of seagulls...the smell of salt water...the tides pushing and pulling the sea into and out of the town and through its bridges. Boats in the harbor, piers, quays, 

                       

And of course, we Americans expect to come to Ireland and go into a pub or restaurant and share in the conviviality and hear a song or two sung by real Irish singers.

And that is exactly what we heard.

They sounded pretty traditional...sounded pretty good...and the food was excellent too.

                           

I noticed a lady and her daughter come into the restaurant. The lady went over to the two men who were singing. She was the wife of one of them and she sat and sang and clapped along. The Irishmen continued their traditional singing.

The 14 year old daughter sat over at another table...her back to the singers...drinking a Coke...immersed in her cell phone.

It's a new world out there....but I hope that occasionally we will return to the old world...if only to remember from where we have come.

Peace,  Bob