Friday, May 24, found Domer and me up early, taking turns foraging for food and accommodations again.
Kind of like being on a deserted island.
We learned there were hotels, but they were way more expensive than we wanted to pay. And there were bed-and-breakfasts. But nothing mid-range with vacancies.
Somewhere along the line, the subject of bailing came up. I honestly don’t know whose idea it was, but we figured at this rate, it was going to cost almost as much to pay the cancellation fees and go home early as it would sticking it out for the week.
At last, we found what looked like a lovely hotel, and we booked the next four nights at a reasonable rate (thanks, Expedia!). Checking out of the guest house, we followed directions to the bus stop.
Little did we know one has to HAIL a bus, the way you hail a taxi.
After several buses went by, we noticed people signaling for the one they wanted, so we did, too. Only we were at the wrong bus stop!
Another thing — Irish buses have no signage, meaning you really don’t know where you are, when you should get off (and whether the neighborhood you’re waiting in is sketchy or not). Oh, and the drivers don’t make change. If you’re told the fare is 2.35 in Euros and you drop 2.50 in the slot, tough luck!
An hour’s ride later — at least we were able to see some of the scenic countryside — we arrived at the hotel and checked in.
Relieved to be “settled” for the next few days, we decided to eat lunch. Surprise, our hotel offered a meal on site — woo hoo! — and we enjoyed club sandwiches with tortilla chips. Still eager to look around, we returned to our room to research travel options.
Uh-oh, the news wasn’t good. It was going to take an hour each way on the bus, or mucho Euros in taxi fares, to get back to civilization.
No wonder the staff seemed so accommodating. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere and knew it.
The idea of cutting our losses grew. Feeling frustrated at not having toured the first thing, not having taken a single picture, and afraid Ireland had seen us coming with a money tree in tow, we looked seriously into the possibility of catching an early flight home.
There was one on Saturday, and we grabbed it.
We cancelled our hotel stay after that one night, booked a taxi (Cha-ching) for the ride to the airport, and dined on pizza for dinner.
Lingering doubts over our decision evaporated during our noisy night. A group of teens staying there on break from school raced up and down the hotel’s hallways, banging on doors and phoning random rooms to find their friends much of the night.
Can it get any worse, I wondered.
Join me tomorrow to see.