Day 3

My dream trip was almost over!

I had crammed in a double decker bus tour of Dublin before I had to be at the airport. (Again, why not at the beginning of my trip so I'd know WHAT I wanted to go see? Hindsight is such a bitch...) We drove past landmark after landmark, and our tour guide pointed out embassy after beautiful embassy. There were stately mansions galore, ivy covered and elegant.

The American embassy was coming up, and the Americans on the bus preened as the tour guide told us it was an award winning design...

The spastic recoil and sinking into our seats also identified us as Americans a few minutes later as the embassy came into view.

Oh, no. NO no no no no.

What a way to end my trip--head hung in shame for the big cement monstrosity we had foisted on the Irish people.

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I had consulted with my innkeeper, and she was sure that the bus to take me to the airport went by right out front.

Imagine my horror as the bus number went by on the OTHER side of the street.

I ran across the street to the OTHER bus stop, and tried not to panic at the thought of missing my flight. I HAD money for a cab, but..but...I still had 2 weeks in Europe to get through! What if I blew it all now and found something FABULOUS later? My Irish money (ahem, no such thing as a euro back then) had been carefully changed to allow for a few souvenir coins...nothing more.

As I stood there weighing my options, a cab flipped a U-turn in the middle of the street and shouted something incomprehensible at me.

It sounded suspiciously like

"hzze Bzz areee ween?"

It was my same little taxi driver, and his accent was just as thick to me after two and a half days immersed in Dublin. He gave me a free ride to the airport so he could find out how my trip had been.

England was lovely as well. I made the mistake of drinking a huge glass of tap water in Oxford, and was hideously, deliriously sick all through France. Germany was full of history and fairy tale castles, and Holland was so cool I died that I was seeing it with my parents. I didn't make it to Scotland, and I'd like to go there if I ever get the chance--Italy and Spain, too. But ultimately I think there's a little piece of my heart stuck in a taxicab driving through Dublin, and when I had my kids and they tell you to find your beautiful peaceful place? I was back in Glendalough.