Serendips and synchronicities...
Right - some rather large photos coming up further down. If I have time over the next few days I'll try to organise a couple of slideshows of the 225 other pics I took today...
We set off at 2.30 yesterday afternoon, caught the X39 to Temple Meads, then the Bristol Flyer to Bristol International Airport, arriving at 4 pm (ish). There were only two people ahead of us at the check-in desk - but there were more like 200 at the security check-in...
[sigh] And of course I set the bloody alarms off. Apparently the machine is extremely sensitive: I think it was the piercings (at any rate, I took the lower one out that night and had no problems at Shannon airport...) Having navigated that embarrassment, we then had to wait for an hour and half for our flight.
The departure lounge was very busy, and the time went fairly quickly, and we'd booked priority boarding, so had almost first choice of seats (at the front where there was a bit more legroom, with Kai by the window). It was a small Boeing 737-800, basically a bus with wings, but so much more immediate and intimate because of it (I've always found the jumbos more like sitting in a luxury coach, insulated from the outside: always preferred the smaller planes. Well, for short flights anyway!)
And then the first of the by-now-almost-expected weirdnesses started. We had a captain and co-pilot and four cabin crew, the latter all different nationalities, which was great - except that the one chosen to make all the announcements was Spanish (or possibly Italian) and we couldn't understand a word she said. I assume it was English, but her accent was so heavy, I was lost, and I'm usually pretty good at interpreting.
And they couldn't agree on how many people were on board. I kid you not, three of them were counting heads and they all came up with different numbers. And not just 2 or 3 numbers difference either: one counted 165, one 150 and one 115!
It took them five minutes to sort that out (I think the final agreement was 115 passengers. Perhaps the others slipped through a time-warp or something) and get ready for the flight, though still on time. It was dark by then (6.30 pm). I'd warned Kai to focus on that first sensation of takeoff, 'cause you only get to experience that first takeoff once. The cabin crew switched off the internal lights, of course, so we could see the airport lights (well, Kai could, he was glued to the window!)
It's been twenty-four years since I last flew, but the feeling, although the memory may fade a little with the years, is one you never forget - that bumpy ride along the runway as the plane picks up speed, the changing pitch of the jet engine, the sudden smoothness as the plane lifts from the ground, then the pressing back into the seat as it soars upwards... I love it.
So did Kai. His expression was pure bliss as he felt us takeoff. And the clouds cleared for us to see the lights of Felton village, and a little further off Bristol, spread below us as we gained altitude. Perfect.
We couldn't see anything then until we were approaching Shannon airport - combination of rain and it being night-time - and when we got inside the terminal it was dark and practically deserted. Outside it was raining, and there was only one taxi. I asked the driver if he was free, and he said no, but if I picked up the courtesy phone on the wall over there someone would come and pick us up...
I did, and about thirty seconds later a woman hurried over to us, apologising profusely that she hadn't seen us, because she'd been moved from "down there" to the new airport taxi rank "up here", which wasn't in view of the exit, and hoped we hadn't been waiting long. We then got five minutes of wonderfully expressive chat about how she'd been doing the job for twelve years and had just joined the regulars, and how the men were the most appalling gossips and rumour-mongers, and how her dad also worked for the taxi firm, all delivered in a gorgeous soft Irish accent...
After that she asked about our trip, and on my saying we were only over on a literal flying visit and had to fly back the following afternoon, insisted we visit Bunratty Castle, the B&B we were staying at (
Fort Lách) could give us all the details and tell us about the buses, she took her two kids there often and they loved it... I'd never heard of the place, but apparently it was just five minutes away by car, so we decided that if we got up early enough, and if the weather was half-way decent, we'd squeeze it in somehow. After all, we'd much prefer to actually
see something of the area than simply fly there and back...
The B&B is great, the rooms spotless and the beds very comfortable. But it's practically in the country, and absolutely
silent at night, which I found a little unnerving. Still, we both had a reasonable night, and managed to get up a little before eight. Our host, the lovely Mr Boland, served us a terrific breakfast
- and then said he'd
drive us to the Castle, it was only five minutes away and would save us taxi-fare! And he gave us a running commentary of the area as he drove, and pointed out the bus-stop (just around the corner from the Castle) where we could get the bus straight to the airport. Fantastic!
Here starteth the big pix...
You can read up on the Castle and Folk Village
here (there's an excellent plan of the castle
here), so I'm not going to go into any great detail on the blog.
But Lutra and Onna, you in particular would have loved it! It was built in 1425, and not much has changed since then.
Unfortunately (from my pov) that included the narrow stone spiral staircases. I was OK until Kai said he wanted to go up to the very top of the eastern tower, which involved climbing the longest, steepest, smallest, narrowest stairs I've ever attempted. Nearly had a claustrophobic panic-attack half way up, had to come down backwards, and I was still shaking half an hour later. My knees and thigh muscles are still killing me, and my hands and arms are aching from gripping the thin (but thankfully solid) iron rail that served as a handrail.
But I made it, and the views from the top made it worthwhile. That's the Shannon estuary in the third photo.
But of course that's not all at the site, there's also the Folk Village, which is amazing and great fun, although we only had about 45 minutes to see it before we had to tank off to the bus-stop to catch the 10.50 bus. I did take a fair number of pics but this one I especially like... There were two Irish wolfhounds in their own garden, and as we approached you could
see one of them look at the other, sigh, and grumble, "S'pose it's my turn to go and have my photo taken with the wretched grockles" (or whatever the Irish is for tourists). It just stood there to be petted, and after I'd taken the pic wandered off again, and the other one ambled over and did the same. Though at least the second one managed an unenthusiastic wag of the tail! Gorgeous dogs though, the sort I'd love to own if I could afford them.
It's really the sort of place you need to spend a full day exploring, not the paltry one and a half hours which was all we could spare. We need to go back - with Ken next time! Kudos to our taxi driver for telling us about the place.
The bus was ten minutes late, but Mr Boland had told us that the big transatlantic flights took off in the morning, so it should be quiet by the afternoon and we shouldn't have any problems checking in and going through security. He was right: took us all of ten minutes (and this time I didn't set off the alarm!) Shannon airport's departure lounge is rather nice, calming shades of greys and black, with a spacious relaxed feel, so the hour's wait wasn't a problem. We had priority boarding again, but had to sit after the sixth row back (I assume to even out the plane's payload, as there were only about fifty passengers), so slid into row seven (Kai at the window again).
The flight was perfect...
Over the Shannon estuary. So pleased I caught the rainbow!
Above the clouds at 27,000 feet over St George's Channel: the sun on the sea...
Kai entranced ->
At this point my battery was practically empty, and the spares buried at the bottom of my rucksack in the overhead locker: I knew if I tried to dig them out by the time I found them we'd be landing. So I sweet-talked the gremlin and tried feeding some of my own electricity (GoodTwin can tell you that story!) to the camera: it seemed to work, as I squeezed another 40 pics out of the batteries. (Bear in mind these are batteries that usually stop working five pics after the 'battery low' indicator first lights up...)
<- Avonmouth from above.
It was over far too soon for us both. Kai's addicted, wants to learn to fly (I always wanted to, but could never afford it: I'd love for him to be able. Perhaps the lottery ticket I bought at Briz airport will be a lucky one!) Ryanair take great pride in beating records (the flight is supposed to take an hour and ten minutes, but they usually make it in fifty, and this one was even shorter, dammit) and they play a fanfare over the tannoy if they're early, which they did on both flights.
In the last photo you can see our plane's shadow on the ground as we came in to land.
All in all it was fabulous. Kai loved every second of it and I had a fantastic time (apart from the spiral staircases!) And now it's 1 am and I'm knackered and should be thinking about getting to bed: tomorrow I absolutely must do a little housework before the parents come up on Saturday, and then it's back to the client stuff...
Later!
Labels: adventures, castles, flying, holiday, Ireland
#
Joules *Dances with Haddock* Taylor
pontificated this at 10:23 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment