Gateway to Galway

Look what we found!

We have suitcases ready to go.  We are in week seven of this journey and we are fairly adept at the packup.  We have one small problem though.  Space.  It turns out I have sort of a funny thing to share.  I feel bad because to share it, I have to pick on Ken a little bit, and we all make mistakes, so I want this to be as light-hearted as possible.  So with a clap on his shoulder, I have to explain our predicament. 

When I packed, I was in charge of the kids’ suitcases and mine, of course.  I had to be judicious because we were covering a fairly wide range of temperatures, from the sunny and dry upper nineties in southern France to the cloudy and wet lower fifties of Ireland coastline, which makes for a 50 degree variance.  

It turns out that I made some smart guesses.  For example, plaid shorts for Aidan really only need to be washed once when the stains get bigger than the plaid.  Riley will wear capri pants no matter the outdoor temperature, and she sleeps in her clothes, so she can be ready at a moment’s notice, even if she looks and/or smells less-than-fresh.  

I have gone seven weeks without wearing a single pair of shorts.  I have never worn skirts in my life up to this summer, but somehow have discovered they aren't so bad.  I also have 4 skorts which are fantastic because they look like skirts, but you don’t have to keep your legs crossed in a lady-like fashion, which is difficult for me to maintain when sitting on curbs and swearing at the kids.  Which reminds me...

Sidebar – I forgot to tell you a really funny thing I did to embarrass Ken.  When we were wandering Heathrow on our way to Cork, we paused outside a British souvenir shop.  There were masks of the Queen on a rack near the front.  Without thinking, I immediately slipped into my copy of Jon Stewart’s impersonation of her majesty.  “Well, hell-loooooo.”  I said in my best queenly voice.  It was too loud and a large number of British heads swiveled to take into consideration yet another loud-mouth American making a jerk out of themselves.  I thought it was hilarious, but Ken covered his eyes and shook his head as if to explain that I had’t had my medication yet that day.  Back to the present task. 

Aidan on an apparent Hobbit bench

I packed each suitcase loosely enough to bring home souvenirs, and lightly enough for me to be able to handle on my own.  But I am married, and that is where things get a little more complicated. 

My husband hates to travel, remember how I told you it took me two years to get him to do this trip?  He thought it would be a grand idea to do some bachelor travel at the end of our family trip.  That he might as well send the kids and myself home on our own, so that he could continue with another two weeks worth of plane-hopping around Germany and such.  I was not fond of this idea, but I’m a big girl and I figured that while travelling with the two kids would be a grind, we would survive.  

Actually, wait, I need to say that Ken had two grand ideas.  He also thought that since he was going to be working in Ireland for three weeks, he would ship (one of) his bikes to Cork, with an entire week’s worth of Ireland weather-worthy bike gear.  He also figured that since he would be sending all of this stuff home from the Ireland plant, he might as well load up on books and other remarkably heavy-for-traveling-items during the first six weeks of our tour.

Here is where things get a little sticky.  Somehow in his conversations with the people at the Ireland plant, he missed the part about how things can be shipped to Ireland, but not back to Seattle.  In order to go back to Seattle, they would have to wait until there was a container going for some reason.  Which isn’t a normal nor a frequent event.

Riley found this graffiti sticker on a trash can...

Also, as you might guess, plans change.  Out of the three, four-day weeks that Ken was going to ride his bike to work, he ended up travelling on two of them.  One week he went to that lovely B&B in England that you saw, and the next week he went on a quick trip to Belfast.  So as near as I can figure, he rode his bike to work once.

...and turned it into THIS.  I love her creativity!

This brings me to our current situation, which is this.  Sitting on the hallway floor and not fitting in our suitcases we have:  a bike, a giant black shipping case for that bike, a week’s worth of pants, gloves, helmet, jerseys, shoes, you name it, he brought it, bike gear, new souvenirs toys and clothing brought from England, and our regular stuff which includes a mountain of books like the British edition of Harry Potter 4 and the Irish pre-release of the next Skulduggery Pleasant which are not to be left behind. 

Now, if you know Ken, you know he is resourceful to say the least.  You will not, in fact, swallow your gum when I share the news that he SELLS the bike to a guy in Ireland.  Sells it for cash Euros, which we are desperately short on, since Ireland is the only EU country without a banking agreement with BofA.  He also materializes with a suitcase on Thursday night.  It is a warranty return with a faulty zipper that he manages to get for free, just like that Alfa Romeo upgrade.  So we shrink the pile and have cash.  The pile does not shrink far enough however.  Something has to give.  

It is my patience and my back.  I will return to the US with two kids and four suitcases; which are packed to the weight limit.  At least the flight Ken booked allows us to clear customs in Ireland so that I don’t have to mess with four suitcases and trying to make my connection in Atlanta…. (Or does it…)  and still the bike case and a pile of stuff packed into it will be left behind for the someday-return via container ship.  Or it will still be waiting for Ken the next time he returns to Cork.