to Northern Ireland!

Excitement. Good kind, challenging kind -- some is unique to travel, and that travel brand of adventure brings with it rewards, always. Either of overcoming, or of having great stories to recount.

Today's adventures started on the lovely and tame end of the continuum. A wake up with my grandgirl and play in our hotel room...





Messages about Sparrow sleeping through the night and then some! All good stuff. We meet up for breakfast downstairs. It's included with the room so we eat a lot!

Hi Sparrow!






Snowdrop is very glad to see her brother again!






Some of us have some down time and so we walk to the park -- St Stephen's Green. It's a short walk, along this street...






And the park is lovely, in the way that so many parks in Europe and especially in the UK islands and Ireland are lovely!










Foxgloves!





And playgrounds!






(Gaga, does it really look like I want to ride this horsie?")






("I'm okay with the swing...")






The weather continues to be shockingly grand. (Meaning it's not raining all the time.) Note Snowdrop refuses even a sweater.






True, every other child is bundled in jackets and such, but our girl is from Wisconsin! Hardy and rarely cold! Her brother? Well, there's just not much time for that nap, so he needs to let go, in the strangest of places...






By noon, we head for the train station. The hotel staff cant believe it -- you're walking? With the little girl and the sweet lad? And the suitcases? You can't do it, the station is far.

Yes we can!





We stop off at Peaches to get sandwiches and a sweet treat for the little girl and then trudge on.

Here's our first big hiccup of the day: the train crew people inform us that there is a security issue on the tracks. Half way, we'll have to get off and a bus will take us from there to Belfast.

Well now. We have a double stroller. Folding it requires taking it apart. We have bags galore. How will this play out?

This is Ireland. A grandmother, traveling with family and young ones will not be left to manage. "We will help you" is the recurrent theme.

The train is magnificent in the way that so many trains on this continent are magnificent. Snowdrop is so excited: "it's my first time on a train! It's my first time!"

There is a lot to be excited about!















In the end, the train does come to a grinding halt before its final destination, but as promised, a million hands help us with the transfer and it isn't to a bus: merely another, lesser train that will run along different, less troubled tracks.

None of us have ever been to Belfast before. It's clearly not a huge tourist destination because the hotels here are perhaps one third the cost of those elsewhere. We're at the Fitzwilliam -- another bargain at a very comfortable place. The young family is together now in a family room and I'm off in my own quarters, here:






With a view toward the edge of town and the hills beyond.





With the exception of one or two nights, I let the young family make all dinner choices. So long as it's reasonably priced and not more than a 20 (well, okay -- 23!) minute walk each way, I'm up for anything.

(Do we ever get rained on during these dinner walks? All the time! It rains, it clears. It rains, it clears.)





Today's selection (Molly's Yard) is modest, intimate and wonderful.

By the meal's end, both kids are tired. To say the least!






Still, their moods mostly hold. As if it were just another night, where dumplings come alongside goat meat...






... and chocolate ice cream isn't really chocolate, nor ice cream at all. Travel does this to you: it teaches you to roll with the punches. That there are bigger values at stake than merely getting everything exactly right and as you expected.


It's 10p.m. now. The sun hasn't set yet and still, I do believe every member of the young family has long been asleep.

to Ireland!

Let's play "assumptions and stereotypes" and see which ones actually played out for us: O'Hare airport in Chicago? Avoid it at all cost! Traveling overseas with two kids under five? Nightmare! Cold, rainy days n the Emerald Isle? But of course. Surly, sullen cabbie in Dublin? Typical! Frequent family travel means frequent hotel stays? Inevitably!

You'll have guessed perhaps that none were true on the first leg of our journey to Ireland and the UK.

I met up with the young family -- my older daughter, her husband, Snowdrop and Sparrow -- at the Chicago airport. We were flying United -- an airline that has received some criticism in recent years from unhappy travelers. I rarely stray from Delta, but as I said, this trip was the young family's trip and I was curious how this routing would feel as compared to my usual connections in Detroit or Minneapolis.

Perhaps we were lucky, but getting through the airport hurdles was a breeze. No lines anywhere. All smooth, despite the fact that we had luggage that was necessarily copious because of the presence of young ones. Yes, you can buy diapers, mushy foods, and rubber duckies elsewhere, but our time is precious. No one wants to spend it on shopping for essentials.

There, checked in and past security!






Sparrow is in pj's. The flight takes off after 9pm: the goal is to get him to sleep. Quickly.






A thrown together dinner at the airport. Snowdrop chooses cheesy pizza.






B14! That's our gate!






I had mentioned in an earlier post that getting bulkhead seats was horribly difficult and time consuming. But it was well worth it. The young family has three seats together and once in flight, Sparrow gets his own little bassinette. Shall we say that he is a tad tall for it, but it's a godsend: he spends some 70% of his time off lap, sleeping or playing in his little bed. That's a lot of time when you dont have to distract him from destroying the plane's interior. (Not that it doesn't look like it's been through a lot already... United does not appear to fuss about aesthetics.)





I am a few seats removed from the young family and I am immobilized by virtue of the fact that I have two passengers that are nearly impossible to pass. So I sleep, right? Wrongo bongo.

I keep waiting for the kids to fall apart, thinking that perhaps I could leap over everyone and spring to helpful action should that happen. In fact, though, the kids were 99% magnificent and the parents were 100% capable of managing all the tricky situations that travel presents.

Seven and a half hours later, we are on our final approach into Dublin. Snowdrop's excitement elicits many smiles as she pipes up from her window seat. "Oh my God! Look, mommy! Beaches! And the ocean! Oh my God!"

And wouldn't you know it! There will be some sunshine, at least for this part of the day! (I well remember that weather on these islands hardly ever holds steady for a full day.)






I commented on these magnificent partly blue skies to the cab driver (a very chatty fellow!). He retorted -- don't jinx it! It has been raining constantly here! Rain? I am no stranger to it!

Our hotel faces this street.






It is very unusual for us to stay in a hotel. Indeed, Snowdrop has only once in her life overnighted in one. Otherwise, the young family stays with friends or at AirBnBs. But for the first three nights here, we're doing hotels. It has to do with conferences and convenience and incredible deals. (We're at the Westbury in Dublin.)

As is often the case, your overseas flight comes in before rooms are ready. So we go to lunch, just downstairs, because no one feels like walking anywhere just yet.

(Someone's tired...)





(Someone's hungry and Irish smoked salmon is special!)






And finally, the rooms are set. I'm with Snowdrop, here:





It's a simple but very spacious room. For me, it's such luxury! One night of indulgence for her, too -- she has a choice of sleeping in a bed or in a tent.

I have a moment of deja vu -- I only once stayed in a Westbury. Snowdrop's mom was then three and we were spending a summer in Cambridge, England, where her dad was doing research. We came in to London to sight-see and there was then, too, a super special rate at this British/Irish hotel chain. We were so poor -- I was still a student, my then husband was just recently employed to teach at a state university, but we splurged. And my daughter began her own childhood story telling exactly then, chanting stories, all under the title of "Snowdrop's mom, everywhere!" (Insert her name, instead of Snowdrop's mom.) I am so shocked to hear Snowdrop tell a story now under the title "Dark Blue, everywhere!" (Dark Blue is her favorite girl's name now. Snowdrop is not conventional in her naming choices!) Is it genetic??

The little girl's brother is napping with mom and dad in their own room, but Snowdrop is going strong.






I sit back, sip a coffee, look out the window. We are in Ireland, alright.





The goals for this day are modest: rest, get acclimated to Europe's clocks and habits. We're doing that. And sucking in every last minute of a lovely space where a little girl's stories unfold.

But very late in the afternoon, I decide a trip to a grocery store is in order. We need fruits and snacks. Snowdrop is game! Does that girl ever exhaust her batteries??






(At Marks and Spencer Food Halls...)






Toward evening we walk to the train station. Some of the grownups have to catch a train to Belfast to do some work there. But first, we all grab a dinner at the Brew Dock, just by the station.






In so many ways, it's an exhausting time. No one has eaten or slept according to any discernible pattern. But the kids hold it together so very well and the evening is lovely.


 



(a Snowdrop sketch and my fish and chips)


 


And here are a couple of true, predictable statements: the Irish are so incredibly friendly, especially toward young children that it makes your heart sing. "That one's a smiler and a half!" -- the bar tender will say about Sparrow. "Do your little ones want a licker?" (aka a lollipop) "What a big lad! Must be at least two and a half!" --on and on and on.





The other predictable event -- it rains on the walk back to the hotel. Big fat splatters of wetness. All umbrellas and panchos are back in the room. Of course.


And what's lovely now? Retiring for the night, to get some much needed rest!

(a milk and cookie goodnight snack...)

taking off!

Question: why am I up at dawn, driving to the other side of town, looking at free if somewhat rotten fencing with Ed?




It is one of those imponderables. Something to mull over. There is not good answer. It just is.

*     *    *

Today is the day when I take off. This is a trip that has been long on the books. I'm not the one who selected the dates nor itinerary. It's all the young family's doing. I'm just a tag-along (though we worked jointly and tirelessly on some aspects of it -- like, for example, where we should stay).

My daughter and her husband have a conference to go to. That event will take us to Belfast. But for now, we're all flying to Dublin. From Chicago. (The economics of travel so dictate.)

We'll be together throughout, though not on the leg of the journey from Madison to the Chicago airport -- they have arrangements to make with their house sitter. I have a bus to catch. But once in Chicago, we join forces and away we go!


*     *     *

All this happens after a very busy morning. Sure, there is the calm of breakfast...





But after, there is the whirlwind of packing, of talking to the docs that are caring for my mother (so far everyone's upbeat), of talking to people about fences, until I can talk no more and Ed sweetly says -- gorgeous, I'll take over. I'll figure this out for you.

He is one sweet guy.

A last look at one corner of my June garden...





And I'm off! Next post? From Dublin!

Monday

Life is full of retreats and corrections. Setbacks and repairs. Most repairs work, some do not. When they do, you breathe a sigh of relief and move on. When they do not -- well, you reset and also move on. There is no room in life for despair.

I was thinking of this today when a close work friend of Ed's set out with his family to drive to the sailboat which was to take them on a year-long journey, all the way from Wisconsin to the Virgin Islands: two parents, two kids, and a dog. In the car, the dog got volatile and angry and bit the face of one of the family members, requiring serious stitches. The family regrouped. The dog was off the sailing crew list. They found another dog to adopt. In a week or two, they'll be setting out again.

I was thinking about this, too, when I talked to my mom's doc. Perhaps you remember -- my mom, who is 95, is having some health issues. She is currently in the hospital as the docs try to figure out what's wrong. Having located the problem (a blocked artery), they feel confident they can fix it and she can go home in a day or so. She is confident as well. They all are telling me to go ahead with my trip tomorrow. The doc says she'll be in a better state than she was before.

And I was thinking about this as I tried so very hard to find someone to build us a fence for the goats. Having watched several youtubes on the process, I no longer think this is an easy thing that someone could knock off in an afternoon. I cannot find a fence installer to do it right. I have wasted every spare waiting minute trying - I'm stumped. If I can't get the fence up, I can't bring home goats.

So many of our days are full of these steps and missteps. The best thing you can do for yourself (and the younger generations) is to learn to use that reset button within you. To avoid regret. To look forward to what's ahead, despite it all.

In the meantime, let me take some pleasure in what's blooming right now: the phlox is starting! If you counted the number of phloxes in my garden you'd be shocked: I love this flower so much! This is the first of the bunch and I am so glad to see its tiny blooms before I take off!







Hi, Happy.






Hi, sweet Ed.






Hi, wonderful friend, in town just in time for us to have a coffee.






Hi, Snowdrop! (The little girl has two mornings of Fairy dance camp. Oh, how she loves this program!!)






(Leaving dance, past that colorful paper store...)






(Arriving at the farmette, paying homage to the sweetest flower of them all -- alyssum, with the incredible scent of honey...)






(our usual shenanigans...)






I'm not ready for my departure tomorrow. But you know what? The suitcase will be packed, the trip will be amazing, and I'll come home to day lilies in full bloom. How good is that!