Because nothing says vacation like car repairs
Because we're in Ireland, of course! Greenest and most blessed land on earth.
Today took us on the road less traveled more times than we'd have preferred.
First off, an amusing story of the previous day. We walked into the little village church in town. It's a classic, old, stone church surrounded by the picturesque graveyard. And then we walked into the church and were greeted by this
Karina turns to me and whispers "What IS that?" I replied, "That's when Jesus wept." She responded, "It's not THAT ugly!" Only seven year old and a bit cheeky, that one.
So the nice thing about having a "self catering house" is that everyone can eat breakfast whenever they get up. This is lovely when people are STILL getting over jet lag.
A slow start with a perfect rainy Irish day, lazing over cups of tea and generally enjoying each other's company while the kids got utterly soaked playing at the park.
We packed up for a visit to Cobh (pronounced Kove) to see the quays from which my grandparents emigrated and then to visit with some of our Lynch cousins.
If you recall, we had two cars. (This will be a continuing complaint throughout the next two weeks) I was following Steven and the moment that we started driving, I thought "Wow, the left tire looks really low." It was cold and rainy out, but the car was warm and filled with happy conversation. And then the minivan suddenly pulled off to the side of the highway. Sure enough, the left tire had shredded. So in the rain, Daddy, Steven, Gabbie, and I changed the tire. (Insert joke about "how many Irishmen does it take, blah blah blah) Actually, the most difficult part was figuring out how the heck to open the section of the "boot" with the spare tire. I love my husband, so I didn't take pictures of these moments. I also didn't take pictures of the very kind gentleman who pulled off to help just as we were lifting the spare onto the mount. I almost regret that, though not much. And in return, he took no pictures of me nearly screaming at the phone trying to figure out which digits I needed to dial in order to reach the rental car company.
After a successful and very, very soggy time, we were back on the road to the Cobh Heritage Museum. I've actually been to the museum before, back when I was in college, but it was even more profound for me as a parent with young children, especially children who did leave their homeland behind, thinking about the pain and loss in the leaving. Though many of us have visited the cousins over the years, my grandparents never had the chance to go back. To leave at 17 years old and never see your parents again.....
Anyway, it was a beautiful museum with a large section devoted to the Titanic (Cobh was its last port) and the Lusitania (Cobh was where the survivors were taken) as well as the many immigrants from Ireland.
http://www.cobhheritage.com/
We walked along the pier where my grandparents stood and waited for their ship. Which is now
It seemed rather incongruous somehow.
But our ragtag group of Mexican-Ukrainian-Irish-German-Chippewa-French-Polish immigrants appreciated the history, if not the present.
A short stop to get the tire fixed
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Today took us on the road less traveled more times than we'd have preferred.
First off, an amusing story of the previous day. We walked into the little village church in town. It's a classic, old, stone church surrounded by the picturesque graveyard. And then we walked into the church and were greeted by this
Karina turns to me and whispers "What IS that?" I replied, "That's when Jesus wept." She responded, "It's not THAT ugly!" Only seven year old and a bit cheeky, that one.
So the nice thing about having a "self catering house" is that everyone can eat breakfast whenever they get up. This is lovely when people are STILL getting over jet lag.
A slow start with a perfect rainy Irish day, lazing over cups of tea and generally enjoying each other's company while the kids got utterly soaked playing at the park.
We packed up for a visit to Cobh (pronounced Kove) to see the quays from which my grandparents emigrated and then to visit with some of our Lynch cousins.
If you recall, we had two cars. (This will be a continuing complaint throughout the next two weeks) I was following Steven and the moment that we started driving, I thought "Wow, the left tire looks really low." It was cold and rainy out, but the car was warm and filled with happy conversation. And then the minivan suddenly pulled off to the side of the highway. Sure enough, the left tire had shredded. So in the rain, Daddy, Steven, Gabbie, and I changed the tire. (Insert joke about "how many Irishmen does it take, blah blah blah) Actually, the most difficult part was figuring out how the heck to open the section of the "boot" with the spare tire. I love my husband, so I didn't take pictures of these moments. I also didn't take pictures of the very kind gentleman who pulled off to help just as we were lifting the spare onto the mount. I almost regret that, though not much. And in return, he took no pictures of me nearly screaming at the phone trying to figure out which digits I needed to dial in order to reach the rental car company.
After a successful and very, very soggy time, we were back on the road to the Cobh Heritage Museum. I've actually been to the museum before, back when I was in college, but it was even more profound for me as a parent with young children, especially children who did leave their homeland behind, thinking about the pain and loss in the leaving. Though many of us have visited the cousins over the years, my grandparents never had the chance to go back. To leave at 17 years old and never see your parents again.....
Anyway, it was a beautiful museum with a large section devoted to the Titanic (Cobh was its last port) and the Lusitania (Cobh was where the survivors were taken) as well as the many immigrants from Ireland.
http://www.cobhheritage.com/
We walked along the pier where my grandparents stood and waited for their ship. Which is now
But our ragtag group of Mexican-Ukrainian-Irish-German-Chippewa-French-Polish immigrants appreciated the history, if not the present.
A short stop to get the tire fixed
And then dinner with Mary and Tony. I stayed with Mary and Tony during my Fall Break while studying abroad. While I was with them, it was my 19th birthday and they celebrated it in such grand style, I couldn't believe it. For those of you who have visited my kitchen, on the wall by the pantry I have a small framed picture: “I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat.” That picture was my 19th birthday present from Mary and Tony and it was such a joy to meet up with them again and be reminded again how far you can be from family and yet come back again so quickly.
We got a chance to eat pub food at a real Irish pub and we used the ultimate bribery tool of letting the kids sit in the booth and watch movies on the tablet. I can't believe we did that - this is a first - but I remember all too well sitting while my old parents and my old aunts and old uncles and grown-up cousins all sat around with old relatives I didn't know about old people things. So out came the tablets. Good thing, too, since we ended up chatting with them till well past 10:00. And at the end of the night, this was the scene.
(Tony, trying to hide from the camera)
(two amazing gentlemen)
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