Wimbledon - Day 19
Day 19 was a travel day. That meant for Colleen and I it was time to try out my plan of using the tube to Heathrow for our Aer Lingus flight to Dublin. We were only a bit hung over, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, though of course, lugging those cases was not an easy task. But, of course, I am getting ahead of myself a bit there. First, I had to check out of the Marriott. The video check out wasn't working, for some unknown reason, so I couldn't check out from the room. Then, I get downstairs and find out that I won't be able to get a room for a single night there for our night before flying back to Raleigh anyway. They had a room at the Hyde Park Marriott, but somehow paying 225 pounds for a single night didn't appeal to me. So, we did manage to get them to store our luggage (we had one bag full of souvenirs, etc. we didn't want to lug all over Ireland) and they didn't even charge us for the service. Considering how large the bill was, I am glad to hear they didn't get me an additional charge.
So, we now had to find a place to stay. I liked Colleen's line of thinking. We were familiar with the Kensington area, we knew the tube stops, and the extra luggage would be in Kensington already. So, why stay in another part of town? All that meant was I had to find a hotel that had an available night for our booking. To make a long story short, we ended up finding a hotel right behind the Marriott, so it was too good to pass up. The Premiere Travel Inn isn't exactly a high end facility, but they had everything we needed for one night's rest. I will have to apologize to Clare. She had offered us her room, but when Colleen found out that there was a flat mate, she wasn't too keen on the idea. I can't say I disagree. Using the apartment of a casual friend was probably asking a bit much to start; using the apartment of a casual friend that has a roommate you have never met was not going to be a comfortable situation. So, yes, we spent money we didn't have to for the sake of our own comfort and feeling at ease, but I think it was money well spent. Once we had the booking, it was time to hit the tube and get to Heathrow for our flight.
The tube ride itself wasn't too bad. The navigation of the tube system was another matter altogether. Most stations have lifts for the disabled, but finding them can take you so far out of your way, I fail to see how it would save any time. That of course meant that more than once, Colleen and I had to lug suitcases up or down stairs to get to the platform. That was a minor annoyance, when you compare it to the working our way through tube pedestrian traffic. Folks just don't care, don't get out of the way, and in general seemed to be oblivious to the fact that we had luggage and needed extra space or time. The Picadilly line took us straight to the Heathrow terminal, so we were able to just catch an escalator up to the terminal. Aer Lingus was interesting. They told us in the e-mail that we could not use the kiosks for checking in for our flight. So, we stood in queue. At one point, a woman walked up from behind the counter and aske for our reservation. To confirm and assign our seats, she went to a kiosk and signed in using my passport, so I fail to see how that really required her intervention. Then, since it is like the Southwest Airlines of Ireland (no first class, just a plane with a ton of seats) it is of course in a remote part of the South Terminal. By the time we got there, it was stuffy, close, and very warm. There were a variety of odd smells, not the least of which was the hippy tree hugger Patchouli Oil stink. At least we got on the plane.
Now, this was the first (and not to be the last) time that I learned the real difference between an EU member nation and the United Kingdom. Ireland uses Euros, not pounds. That meant that the refreshments (none of which were complimentary) could only be purchased using Euro Dollars and not pounds. Bummer. At least the flight was short, as it was really only 50 minutes which means we spent more time in ascent and descent than any real flying.
Dublin Airport. That was an adventure. Since we were on the cattle car flight, our baggage claim was also in the bowels of the terminal and not convenient to where we landed, or where we had to go to pick up the car. Of course not. :-) Then, it turned out we arrived at almost the same time as three distinct groups of Italian school aged children. None of them was in the least polite. As I stood waiting for the luggage, I kept feeling more and more crowded. As I turned around to find Colleen, I discovered that I am surrounded to the point of being crushed against the baggage carousel. In order to get my luggage off the carousel, I literally had to hurl it into a boy who would not move no matter how many times I said "scuzi" to him. In the end, I got a lot of hard stares but I didn't care. Get out of the way, or show some courtesy when you see someone in front of you trying to lift a 22 kg suitcase. Oh well, boorish American Derek just wanted to get his luggage and get to the rental car.
The Dublin Airport had one ATM. I found that very odd, but couldn't very well argue the point. I just had to wait in queue to withdraw some Euros so that Colleen and I could enjoy a soda or a bite to eat until we found the hotel. Hertz is the bomb, no matter how many times I have felt like they were not. They had a slightly larger car than I had ordered, and it was at my quoted rate. They also had NeverLost, their GPS system. For some reason, my rental didn't show up on the Gold Club list, so I had to go get in line for my rental, but it was processed fairly quickly. We got to the car, and it was time for my shifting on the left experience. Now, for those faithful readers, they remember my previous discussions about driving on the left side of the road, as is common in all United Kingdom and Commonwealth countries. I was not surprised to find that even as an independent nation, Ireland still used the left side of the road. This time, however, the rental was significantly more expensive to step up to an automatic, so I chose to get a 5 speed manual transmission. That meant shifting on the left, where the stick was at my left hand, since I was sitting on the right side of the car to do the driving. At this time, let me thank my mother for making sure I learned how to drive a manual transmission when I was learning to drive. I was a bit rusty, and of course every car has a slightly different clutch feel, but for the most part, I was able to drive the car fairly easily.
Now, the same cannot be said for navigating the roads in Dublin. Few of them had street signs, and when they did, they were small signs affixed to buildings and were prone to changing names while on the same roadway. Unfortunately, the address for the hotel did not include a street number, and NeverLost wants a street address for finding locations. We circled the Temple Bar District quite a few times before we actually found the hotel entrance. Then, of course, we discovered that while the hotel web site indicated access to parking, that rarely means on site car park. So, I circled the block quite a few times more (and even farther down given the number of one way streets in the downtown area) while Colleen found out where the car park was and how much that was going to add in hidden costs to the hotel deal we got. Of course, the map we got from the front desk wasn't intuitive and we missed the turn more than once to find the car park. We got parked, got our luggage to the room and discovered we had wasted almost 4 hours just getting from the airport (we landed at 12:30 PM) and getting checked in and relatively settled. That meant I had wasted much of the first day, and it was totally because I was too dependent on the GPS, and then too nervous about driving around Dublin with the narrow streets and hidden street signs. Oh well, water under the bridge.
The hotel had an adjacent pub and I wasn't going to waste any time. I walked in and plopped down at the bar while I waited for Colleen to get freshened up a bit. This was the first indication to me the trip was going to be a good one. There were no pulled pints, meaning I'd be drinking cold, fizzy beer, and not the English equivalent I had come to understand if not necessarily appreciate. There was Smithwick's, Guinness, and Kilkenny on draft there. That somewhat puzzled me. I had been told that Smithwick's was the export equivalent of Kilkenny. If that were true, why would there be three taps here in Dublin? So, of course, that meant I had to find out, and the best way to find out is through experimentation. So, I had a Kilkenny and a Smithwick's. Sad to say, they are not the same beer at all. Kilkenny is what I got in Australia; creamy, nitrogen loaded for extra fizz, a medium bodied red ale. Smithwick's that I had was a red ale, but did not have the creamy head or the wait to let it settle. More of a mystery now then ever. Turns out, like most of my favorite alcohol apparently, Diageo owns the international distribution and manufacturing rights for these two beers, which are brewed in the same plant, in Kilkenny, Ireland. Guinness is owned by Diageo as well, so no point in arguing which is which. Still, it did give me the feeling of three choices and all of them truly cold beer, and definitely no chance of being flat.
Dinner was across the street in a little Italian restaurant called Little Sicily. Now, despite what this review says on the link I posted, the restaurant next door, Sinners, is where the belly dancing was. Nothing in this Italian restaurant said belly dancing, trust me. Our only issue there was that I had ordered a white wine, was told that the one I wanted wasn't available, was offered a substitute but was then brought out a red wine of the same name. Sigh. At least I didn't have to pay for the red she had opened by mistake. We ate like royalty and then decided to head back to the bar across the street for a couple more pints. In the end, we settled into our room relateively early hoping to get a jump on the next day. Turns out the hotel did not have air conditioning, and we were actually overlooking the vents and ducts for the sections of the hotel that were air conditioned, so we picked up a bit of heat from those as well. At least it was a decent room and a soft enough bed to get some sleep.
Cheers!
So, we now had to find a place to stay. I liked Colleen's line of thinking. We were familiar with the Kensington area, we knew the tube stops, and the extra luggage would be in Kensington already. So, why stay in another part of town? All that meant was I had to find a hotel that had an available night for our booking. To make a long story short, we ended up finding a hotel right behind the Marriott, so it was too good to pass up. The Premiere Travel Inn isn't exactly a high end facility, but they had everything we needed for one night's rest. I will have to apologize to Clare. She had offered us her room, but when Colleen found out that there was a flat mate, she wasn't too keen on the idea. I can't say I disagree. Using the apartment of a casual friend was probably asking a bit much to start; using the apartment of a casual friend that has a roommate you have never met was not going to be a comfortable situation. So, yes, we spent money we didn't have to for the sake of our own comfort and feeling at ease, but I think it was money well spent. Once we had the booking, it was time to hit the tube and get to Heathrow for our flight.
The tube ride itself wasn't too bad. The navigation of the tube system was another matter altogether. Most stations have lifts for the disabled, but finding them can take you so far out of your way, I fail to see how it would save any time. That of course meant that more than once, Colleen and I had to lug suitcases up or down stairs to get to the platform. That was a minor annoyance, when you compare it to the working our way through tube pedestrian traffic. Folks just don't care, don't get out of the way, and in general seemed to be oblivious to the fact that we had luggage and needed extra space or time. The Picadilly line took us straight to the Heathrow terminal, so we were able to just catch an escalator up to the terminal. Aer Lingus was interesting. They told us in the e-mail that we could not use the kiosks for checking in for our flight. So, we stood in queue. At one point, a woman walked up from behind the counter and aske for our reservation. To confirm and assign our seats, she went to a kiosk and signed in using my passport, so I fail to see how that really required her intervention. Then, since it is like the Southwest Airlines of Ireland (no first class, just a plane with a ton of seats) it is of course in a remote part of the South Terminal. By the time we got there, it was stuffy, close, and very warm. There were a variety of odd smells, not the least of which was the hippy tree hugger Patchouli Oil stink. At least we got on the plane.
Now, this was the first (and not to be the last) time that I learned the real difference between an EU member nation and the United Kingdom. Ireland uses Euros, not pounds. That meant that the refreshments (none of which were complimentary) could only be purchased using Euro Dollars and not pounds. Bummer. At least the flight was short, as it was really only 50 minutes which means we spent more time in ascent and descent than any real flying.
Dublin Airport. That was an adventure. Since we were on the cattle car flight, our baggage claim was also in the bowels of the terminal and not convenient to where we landed, or where we had to go to pick up the car. Of course not. :-) Then, it turned out we arrived at almost the same time as three distinct groups of Italian school aged children. None of them was in the least polite. As I stood waiting for the luggage, I kept feeling more and more crowded. As I turned around to find Colleen, I discovered that I am surrounded to the point of being crushed against the baggage carousel. In order to get my luggage off the carousel, I literally had to hurl it into a boy who would not move no matter how many times I said "scuzi" to him. In the end, I got a lot of hard stares but I didn't care. Get out of the way, or show some courtesy when you see someone in front of you trying to lift a 22 kg suitcase. Oh well, boorish American Derek just wanted to get his luggage and get to the rental car.
The Dublin Airport had one ATM. I found that very odd, but couldn't very well argue the point. I just had to wait in queue to withdraw some Euros so that Colleen and I could enjoy a soda or a bite to eat until we found the hotel. Hertz is the bomb, no matter how many times I have felt like they were not. They had a slightly larger car than I had ordered, and it was at my quoted rate. They also had NeverLost, their GPS system. For some reason, my rental didn't show up on the Gold Club list, so I had to go get in line for my rental, but it was processed fairly quickly. We got to the car, and it was time for my shifting on the left experience. Now, for those faithful readers, they remember my previous discussions about driving on the left side of the road, as is common in all United Kingdom and Commonwealth countries. I was not surprised to find that even as an independent nation, Ireland still used the left side of the road. This time, however, the rental was significantly more expensive to step up to an automatic, so I chose to get a 5 speed manual transmission. That meant shifting on the left, where the stick was at my left hand, since I was sitting on the right side of the car to do the driving. At this time, let me thank my mother for making sure I learned how to drive a manual transmission when I was learning to drive. I was a bit rusty, and of course every car has a slightly different clutch feel, but for the most part, I was able to drive the car fairly easily.
Now, the same cannot be said for navigating the roads in Dublin. Few of them had street signs, and when they did, they were small signs affixed to buildings and were prone to changing names while on the same roadway. Unfortunately, the address for the hotel did not include a street number, and NeverLost wants a street address for finding locations. We circled the Temple Bar District quite a few times before we actually found the hotel entrance. Then, of course, we discovered that while the hotel web site indicated access to parking, that rarely means on site car park. So, I circled the block quite a few times more (and even farther down given the number of one way streets in the downtown area) while Colleen found out where the car park was and how much that was going to add in hidden costs to the hotel deal we got. Of course, the map we got from the front desk wasn't intuitive and we missed the turn more than once to find the car park. We got parked, got our luggage to the room and discovered we had wasted almost 4 hours just getting from the airport (we landed at 12:30 PM) and getting checked in and relatively settled. That meant I had wasted much of the first day, and it was totally because I was too dependent on the GPS, and then too nervous about driving around Dublin with the narrow streets and hidden street signs. Oh well, water under the bridge.
The hotel had an adjacent pub and I wasn't going to waste any time. I walked in and plopped down at the bar while I waited for Colleen to get freshened up a bit. This was the first indication to me the trip was going to be a good one. There were no pulled pints, meaning I'd be drinking cold, fizzy beer, and not the English equivalent I had come to understand if not necessarily appreciate. There was Smithwick's, Guinness, and Kilkenny on draft there. That somewhat puzzled me. I had been told that Smithwick's was the export equivalent of Kilkenny. If that were true, why would there be three taps here in Dublin? So, of course, that meant I had to find out, and the best way to find out is through experimentation. So, I had a Kilkenny and a Smithwick's. Sad to say, they are not the same beer at all. Kilkenny is what I got in Australia; creamy, nitrogen loaded for extra fizz, a medium bodied red ale. Smithwick's that I had was a red ale, but did not have the creamy head or the wait to let it settle. More of a mystery now then ever. Turns out, like most of my favorite alcohol apparently, Diageo owns the international distribution and manufacturing rights for these two beers, which are brewed in the same plant, in Kilkenny, Ireland. Guinness is owned by Diageo as well, so no point in arguing which is which. Still, it did give me the feeling of three choices and all of them truly cold beer, and definitely no chance of being flat.
Dinner was across the street in a little Italian restaurant called Little Sicily. Now, despite what this review says on the link I posted, the restaurant next door, Sinners, is where the belly dancing was. Nothing in this Italian restaurant said belly dancing, trust me. Our only issue there was that I had ordered a white wine, was told that the one I wanted wasn't available, was offered a substitute but was then brought out a red wine of the same name. Sigh. At least I didn't have to pay for the red she had opened by mistake. We ate like royalty and then decided to head back to the bar across the street for a couple more pints. In the end, we settled into our room relateively early hoping to get a jump on the next day. Turns out the hotel did not have air conditioning, and we were actually overlooking the vents and ducts for the sections of the hotel that were air conditioned, so we picked up a bit of heat from those as well. At least it was a decent room and a soft enough bed to get some sleep.
Cheers!
posted by Derek Botti at
3:59 PM
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