The trip over was pretty uneventful. The worst part of it was the half mile forched march through the purgatory that is Heathrow Airport. Getting from the United Airlines terminal to the BMI plane that would fly us to Dublin was a long, hazardous journey that involved a long, painful hike, and two shuttle trips. They’re serious about making sure you really, really want to go to Ireland, I guess. And I don’t know what it is about the shirt I wore yesterday; it must be made of some sort of acrylic that is absolutely impermeable to any sort of air at all. It’s one of my favorite shirts, but when I wear it, any exertion at all makes me sweat like a footballer. By time time I’d settled into my seat on the BMI plane, I was sopping, and pretty embarrassed of it. I leaned forward on my seat, letting the air circulate around my back and shoulders, and afraid of leaving residue on the seat itself. Jennifer very thoughtfully turned both air vents on and pointed them at me to help. By the time we landed, I was feeling human again.
Driving in Ireland is an experience, to be sure. It took very little time, surprisingly, for me to get used to driving on the left side of the road. And the fact that the gear shift is on the left side didn’t even throw me too much (though finding Reverse was quite the trial). No, what’s been throwing me and causing me the most stress has been the road signs. I suppose that they really do make some sort of logical sense in their own way — though conversations with the locals suggest otherwise — but we ended up going at least three different directions on the M1 before we figured out how to get to the M50, and then from the M50 to the N3 so that we could drive up to Trim. And then we got lost and drove through Kilcook three or four times before we realized that the signs that pointed to Trim were, in fact, pointing to… er… Trim.

So we’re in Trim now, staying at a place called Brogan’s Guest House, which we really are enjoying. The first thing we looked for, of course, was an Internet cafe; we asked the innkeeper if there was such a place; she said, “A place to check your email? On a Sunday in Ireland? Ah. No.” So we explored the town, had dinner, and then passed out around 7:00.

This morning, we have walked a bit more in town, encountering along the way another American who has found the road signs just as imposing as we have. We had breakfast, went to the Tourist Information office (closed) and then, obviously, found the Internet Cafe.

I haven’t written anything in “The Divergents” yet, but I’ve written plenty in the little black journal I brought with me. There’s been too much to look at and too many people to talk to and too many road signs to be frightened of.

Overall, I’m very happy to be back in Ireland. The people here are as friendly as I remembered them from last time, and though the weather is different (last time it was sunny and warm, this time it’s cold and rainy and quite humid) it’s still pleasant to walk around and explore. Trim Castle — you’d recognize it as the castle where they filmed Braveheart — is right in the middle of town, and is not nearly as imposing as you’d think a centuries-old castle in the middle of town ought to be. We’ll be exploring that as soon as we can, and then the abbey and then the cathedral. And hopefully we’ll get to the tombs in Newgrange today as well. The computers in this cafe have USB ports, so we should be able to hook up our cameras and upload pictures.

I hope all of my friends, on-line and off-, are doing well. I’ll write more soon.