AH SURE AZURE

Category: Travel

  • Every twentyfour hours

    Every twentyfour hours

    I slept on a banquette outside the cinema last night, lulled by the roar of the ships engines. There was a sign saying no sleeping – footwear must not touch the couch. I have learned on this ship that as long as you do not break every rule, leeway is easily given. So I spread out my €9.99 blanket from Lidl and stretched out.

    The obliging Portuguese client service officers turn a blind eye to many things including the guy who was sleeping with his legs hanging over the end of the couch. I just hope I didnt snore as I woke so refreshed I must have crashed out completely.

    After a breakfast in the immaculate Stena line restaurant- all shining floors and gleaming glass – I took a turn around the deck and did the weird exercise routine – lunges, squats and pushups before there were too many around. A French couple passed by and he remarked- ‘you are right’ …

    Back on my banquette, I took out my knitting. Like a latter day Miss Marple, I could observe all the goings on without looking threatening.

    The dehydrated Irish guy who wrestled with the vending machine and appealed to the portuguese – ‘Eduardo, I only want three  bottles of water- how hard can that be’. He glanced in my direction for support and I just smiled.

    Eventually the transaction was complete and an exchange of coinage went on under cover of the friendly banter.

    We pulled into Cherbourg exactly on time and disembarked without event. I had the feeling of being on a cruise with none of the feeling of being herded like sheep.

    I could not resist including the photo of the sun setting as we left Rosslare.

    My first night will be very close to Cherbourg so I can get my bearings including driving on the right hand side of the road. Fingers crossed…

     

  • Every Twentyfourhours

    Every Twentyfourhours

    Today is the first day of my trip by caravan to Europe.

    My dream is to make it to Corfu via the ferry from Bari on Italy’s East Coast.

    This took shape during the last year of my job when I printed out the map of Europe with the route to Corfu overland, highlighted it, and pinned it on the partition above my desk.

    It crystallised in the last days of June when I realised I still had a burning desire to see Corfu again and my challenge was to make it overland. The original idea was to do it in a campervan, but my funds did not reach to that expense. When I bought a BMW with a towbar my attention shifted to a caravan. My first caravan was a disaster, dry rot, broken everything and I abandoned it with a dealer on my way to Dublin.

    By this time, I had experienced some of the angst of towing a 1,500 kg van. But anyone who knows me is familiar with my determination once an idea takes root in my head. I took to watching every video available to learn how to drive with a load behind you. I had  a lesson from one caravan expert in the middle area of Ireland who clearly became worried when he realised I would be venturing out alone without the benefit of the male of the species to watch over me.

    Since then, Newbridge caravans have spoilt me with a beautiful vehicle and given me hints and direction all along the way. This time, I splashed out on a 2000 Herald Claremont, four berth, luxury in comparison with the last one.

    Why Corfu?  The island’s lush greenery, brought to life for me as a child in My Family and Other Animals  by Gerald Durrell, the sandy beaches and deserted coves, the olive trees and the azure sea.

    I have learned that women do not tow caravans. We will see how that goes.

    I want to set the scene for my forthcoming trip with today’s blog. I am not taking any pictures of the ferry pulling out from Rosslare. As we are in the middle of a heatwave the likes of which I have never experienced, you can take it the sea is still and sparkling and the sun is sinking and sort of hazy as it is the 2030 sailing. One of the remarkable things about driving through Ireland today was the smell of smoke in the air. Spontaneous fires are breaking out due to the 14 days with no rain.

    But most of all with today’s blog, I want to remember someone never made it to Italy. We visited the Cliffs of Moher together and I have posted his profile here taken at that location. He departed this life on the 4th June this year and it is his departure that crystallised my decision to do this trip. We  never know when or where we will be taken, but taken we will be.

  • The Real President

    The Real President

    Hillary Clinton wowed us in Dublin when she received her Honorary Doctorate from Trinity. Her unique style of  speaking, honed by years of experience, was a masterclass in communication. But it was her character, the fun and intelligence that won us over.The reaction of Irish people is that she would have won the presidential race if she had presented this fun, outgoing side to the voters.

    When Jack Lynch was Taoiseach (Prime Minister) in Ireland, his home city of Cork was dubbed the Real Capital. It has stuck, not least because of Cork people’s reputedly high opinion of themselves and their city. I can say this as a Cork woman myself. I am familiar with the intricacies of oneupmanship on a minute and grand scale.

    Less than a month after the 9/11 bombing in New York, my first cousin was scheduled to get married in that city, where she has lived for many years. She duly went ahead with her plans, on the 2nd October, Columbus weekend.  The following Monday, the Columbus day parade rolled up Fifth Avenue.

    I had passed the fire stations covered with pictures of the  dead and lost relatives. The emotion was palpable in the air. So to savour the excitement of bands playing and cheerleaders marching in a display that only the Americans can pull off, was a welcome relief. It symbolised the pioneering spirit of Christopher Colombus, where a city dusted itself down and got on with celebrations in the wake of the worst onslaught in living memory.  Mayor Rudi Giuliani took control and his calming influence was key to the city’s recovery.

    The parade took well over an hour to pass. I had a good spot behind a barrier and I took photos that are long since deleted of soldiers in plumed hats, nineteenth century minutemen and modern Navy gear. Finally at the back of the parade, there was a commotion. A group of people emerged, walking and stopping to shake hands with onlookers. In the middle, was none other than Hilary Clinton, the Senator recently moved to New York in advance of her presidential bid.

    She was dressed in yellow, and was a ball of energy. And yes, she did have charisma, she did exude a vibrant personality. I was not surprised when she came across so well in Dublin, having experienced her presence up close so many years before. Who would have thought that she would end up the defeated candidate and that Rudi Giuliani would end up a key defence lawyer in Trump’s administration.

    I vote we name her the Real President in this year when we commemorate a century of votes for women in Ireland. An Honorary Doctorate is really not  enough.