You Have No Business Traveling on These Roads
"You don't need to check any luggage. You can bring all you need as a carry-on. If you are checking luggage, then you are moving somewhere for a very short period of time." My friend, a commercial airline pilot, told me about his collection of travel advice that he would one day pass on to his daughters.
It reminded me of the moment Rich, my father-in-law, saw everything we brought to Ireland and told us, "You have no business traveling."
It was already too late because we were with him at the airport.
In a way, both of them were right, and still, we had to move forward and travel.
Our trip to Ireland was one of those we would've never planned ourselves because our daughters were only four and one and a half years old, but once it was organized, there was no way we would miss it.
Nuala, my mother-in-law, her kids, and her grandkids had planned to tour the southwest of the island and visit both of her parents' homes, schools, and churches in County Kerry.
We had to be there!
So, we moved to Ireland for 14 days.
At the airport, I remember picking up all my luggage and piling it up in one of those carts.
The pile of bags towered over me. I had to crane my head out to see where I was going. I didn't want to invade any Irish person's physical space with all my things - I was very sensitive not to look English while I was there.
I managed to walk across the street to the car rental terminal. At the terminal, you fill out your paperwork and are bused to your car offsite. But Pat, the guy at the Hertz desk, saw my pile of bags and decided he would try to find me a car in the onsite garage.
He got me the BIGGEST car he had, and I was pumped.
I had heard the Irish were very friendly, and this proved it. I was ready to bathe in Irish hospitality, hot toddies, and Shepherd's pie. The flight was a nightmare, as flights with two toddlers often are. But now everything was turning around.
When we pulled our cart to our giant car, my wife said, "This is not going to work." Which was my wife's motto for the trip; mine was, "We are going to have to figure it out."
The car was a Kia, and it was a GIANT car (by European standards).
But by American standards, the car was like a kid going to kindergarten; it's on its way to being something, but it is still itty bitty.
In the end, my wife was right; it did not work out.
We had to pile our two condos again and head back up to let the guy know we needed to rent a tour bus because that would be the only vehicle in Europe to fit all of our luggage.
They had no such cars.
He apologized profusely, or at least I think he did; my ear was still getting used to Irish English. Then he told us he didn't have anything and we needed to find our way to our hotel. He would call us there if the European Union ever allowed us to import cars that were not clown cars.
We headed back to the taxi pick-up area with all our possessions and our two extremely fatigued toddlers in tow. We parked in the pick-up line and saw no less than three vans pull up, look at everything we were carrying, and pull away quickly to where the two passenger parties were.
Until an Irish man took pity on our poor, jet-lagged souls and said, "I can take you." Or something along those lines; my ear was still not picking it up.
He was driving a black Ford Fusion, and I didn't think for a second that he would fit everything we had. But I still wanted to see the guy try, then put all our stuff back out.
I didn't have to.
He managed to fit everything in comfortably. (That's what she said.) He even managed to put the car seats in and instructed my wife to just hold the baby.
Three days later, Pat from Hertz called, "We found you a giant car." I think that's what he said because why else would he be calling?
It was the day we were going to start our tour of the Southwest of the island, and we were meant to drive to Kenmare, so it was perfect timing.
We went to pick up the car, and we caught the guy just as he was about to lock for lunch.
In Europe, some businesses still close for lunch.
What a concept!
After we completed the paperwork, the clerk walked us to our car and showed us a gray Ford Kuga. I know it was Kuga because, at first, I thought it was Kuca, and I knew some Colombian people might have an issue with that offensive word, which is a euphemism for "Vagina" in Spanish.
I was skeptical about the car's capabilities but still tried to fit everything, and once again, I was pleasantly surprised by Ford's design.
When I closed the door, I decided that when in Europe, I'd only rent American cars.
I could feel the judgment from European cars.
It was as if they were looking at me with a cigarette on the side of their mouth and sneering, "That's so American! To think you need possessions to enjoy the good things in life."
Where the American cars were a warm hug telling me, "Life is hard, and we are all creatures of comfort. Come to mamma!"
And with that, we started driving all our possessions through ten cities in the Southwest of Ireland.
When I was back in the States, people would ask me how it was driving on the wrong side of the road.
Honestly, it wasn't a big deal.
In the States, I'm used to driving with half of my car in my lane and the other half in other people's lanes.
It is part of being in California and believing in sharing it all.
So, when I was in Ireland, I did the same, and it worked out. I found out that not much changes if, wherever you go, you drive in the middle of the road. Only twice did I forget what I was doing and drove my entire car into the right/wrong lane.
But Irish people were so nice that they just stopped and looked at me while returning to my lane. They didn't even honk.
Or maybe they didn't honk because they knew that somewhere near, another Irish brother was nursing a hangover after a night at the pub.
What blew my mind were the cyclists on the road and their trust in other drivers.
You have to be an adrenaline junkie to ride a bike on Irish roads because the lanes are narrower than anything I have ever seen, the roads are falling apart, there is no shoulder to speak of, there are giant cliffs all around, it is always wet and foggy, giant tourists buses are driving like hell, and there are tons of tourists driving on the wrong side for the first time and think that driving on two lanes is acceptable.
If you do that and you don't have your heart in your mouth, then you might already be dead in a ditch. And when someone finds you in that ditch, the only sensible thing they can say is, "You had no business traveling on these roads."
