More roaming

Before I continue with the journal, I'm gonna wish my twin happy birthday. Also, a happy birthday to my youngest sister and her son for yesterday and to my niece for tomorrow. We're all another year... okay, let's not say that and just say we did.

To continue...

Ireland/Belfast: I swear, money is just running through my fingers like water! I turned up at Cardiff airport and handed over the keys to the car. At the check-in counter for the flight, I got pinged twenty-seven pounds for excess weight. Twenty-seven pounds, as in $55 Aussie dollars! And it could have been worse, but the check-in lady took pity on me.

Once it was taken care of, we all lined up, went down a tunnel and down some stairs to outside. On the tarmac, I had to shudder at the sight of a puddle jumper. I mean, the plane had propellers! I didn't think prop planes were in use any more. Thankfully, it was a short flight - with me watching the propellers and for suitable landing areas, of which... there were none.

In a light rain, we landed at Dublin. The good thing about having excess baggage and taking time to sort it out, is that my luggage was packed last, so it was the first out. Hah!

I noticed a Eurocar hire counter and wandered over. It wasn't the right place (I was supposed to go to Landsdowne Road for my car), but the offer of a vehicle still stood. With ill-grace the woman sorted it all out for me and handed over the keys - or keycard in this instance.

Wow. I expected a little Micro, or a Ford Focus; what I got was a sleek, black, six-cylinder, six-speed, Renault Laguna! I had to check to make sure this was the car I was supposed to have. The man said 'yes'. Too cool. Off I went, heading for Belfast in the flash car. It only took an hour and a half. It took a little longer to find a parking spot and find out where the International Youth Hostel was.

Once booked into the IYH and with the car safely stowed in a secured parking area, I went off in search of the Ulster Historical Society. I had a map, so I didn't get lost; it merely took me longer to get there than I expected. I finally found the place, went upstairs with my knees aching and wandered in to the office area. "We're closed." A woman said. "In fact, I was just waiting for my husband."

The man looked over expectantly and asked what I was after. I don’t think he had the opportunity to speak to people interested in the Society, especially those from a distant land. He wandered around the office, checking boxes and bookcases, occasionally picking up some information. He asked about my historical society and Australia as he did.

Half an hour later and arms full of books and two discs with more information, I thanked him and wandered out again. In my backpack, I now had over a hundred pounds worth of information bought for forty pounds. Can't get a better bargain than that. He also had some useful advice for the Public Records Office.

Yeah, I dripped smug on the way down the stairs. As the outside door locked behind me, I realised I'd left my map upstairs – and there was no way back in. Smug evaporated. I retraced my steps to the IYH from memory(!) and found myself on streets unknown. In the travel booklet I had, I finally walked onto the map. I checked off the streets and slowly walked across to where I was supposed to be. The area I wandered through wasn't the best.

By the time I got back to the hostel, my feet and knees were giving me what for. I put my loot in the car. I figured it was time for a cleansing ale and asked the... fellow behind the counter if the pub across the street was okay - you just don't know in Belfast. He said it was A Working Man's pub, like that, as if I should know what that meant. I simply asked him again if it was okay, and he made the same reply. Obviously, he was trying to say something, but I didn't get it. I asked if he knew of a suitable pub and he directed me down town.

As far as I can figure out, a Working Man's Pub is for the locals and where they discuss politics. Not wanting to cause any 'trouble', I slowly walked to the city centre and had a Guinness at a genuine Irish Pub. Beautiful. Both the pub and the ale.