I need to back up a couple of days, back to the day we arrived at our apartments just outside of Dublin. That was a long day and I missed an important part of it: the morning and early afternoon, when we stopped by Blarney Castle to kiss the Stone of Eloquence, otherwise known as the Blarney Stone. It was actually one of the highlights of our tour, seeing the famous tower where the stone is located, but boy was it a long wait!
When we got there shortly after 10 o’clock in the morning the place was already swarming with other tourists, and we had to get in a long line in order to reach the top. Along the way we did a little exploring of the castle, which was largely open as compared with some of the other castles I had been in on my first trip to Ireland. There were so many nooks and crannies that weren’t off limits to the climbing tourists, which kept things interesting even though the line crept as slowly as molasses. We also made up a song to go with the experience. Here is how it went (to the tune of Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl”:
“I kissed a stone, and I liked it. Hope my tour director won’t mind it. I kissed a stone and I liked it. And I liked it.”
We had Domino’s and I visited a cyber cafe on that first night just outside of Dublin, the one for about the millionth time and the other for the very first. It was funny because we were trying to decide what to eat, and there were so many options, but the students knew they had seen a Domino’s when we were driving up on the bus, so they were determined to find it again. That led to a wild trip where they swore we were being stalked, and where we doubled back on ourselves a couple of times before finding the most over-priced pizza ever, and yes, they still had the Noid up on their signs. Raise your hand if you remember that guy. Anyway, then the debate began whether or not we wanted to pay so much for something we could have just gotten at home. I was of course starving by then and said we should go for it, which we eventually did, but we only got two pizzas and fought over who got more than one slice. That was a fun discussion.
After dinner, most of the crew finally turned in, but I was still high off my trip into the city earlier and I couldn’t settle down. I checked with my troops and “tucked them in,” then left a chaperone in charge while I went for a little walk around the area by myself. Don’t worry. I didn’t get lost again, well, not that time anyway. On my walk I encountered a little place that catered to those who were cyber friendly. Or something like that. I’m not quite sure how it advertized itself, but I did know that there were tons of young people in there, typing away. They were playing role play games like World of Warcraft (don’t ask how I knew what it was), and typing emails, and doing all manner of other internet related activities when I entered, but I had only one thing on my mind: getting a Facebook account.
I had one thing on my mind.
You see, on the first day in Ireland most students had either a cell phone or a camera that they used to document the trip. You can imagine how many photographs were taken as a whole from the 55 students and 10+ chaperones who were with us on the journey. And one phrase I heard more than any other when a picture was taken that had multiple people in it was, “tag me in that.” I of course had no clue what “tagging” was, and I kept trying to wrap my brain around it the more they said it. Then when we were in the ruins the day before I finally asked one of the students from another school what tagging was. She laughed at me and explained that tagging was the Facebook expression for making sure people were identified in the photos where they were featured. That way you could look at every photo with you in it at the click of a mouse.
So, I went into that cyber cafe with that purpose in mind, to get me one of those Facebook accounts so I could be tagged in all the photos that I didn’t take myself but that had me in them anyway. It sounded cool. Continue reading “You Call This a Shower?: Part 6”
So, remember that phone tree I told you about in an earlier installment? Well, when we got set up in that first hotel outside of Shannon I took a minute to call my wife who was the first branch of the tree, and she sent it on to the next person, and so forth and so on. However, unbeknownst to me there was a breakdown in the process after the fourth person was called. Of course what that meant was that all of the parents on the bottom part of the tree didn’t get the word that we were there safely. And they were incensed, but I knew nothing about it until that next day while we were on the bus heading to Limerick and Killarney. One of the students had gotten in contact with her mother who was lower on the phone tree, and she had gotten an earful about not letting anyone know she was safely there; then I got on the phone with her and received another earful.
And I could understand what she was saying. I too was frustrated by what happened on the tree, and I promised her something like that wouldn’t happen again. The only way I thought I could do it was to call her as the start of a second tree, effectively ending the first tree with the person who hadn’t called along. It was a pain, but I knew the most important thing was to make sure parents were informed or I would get another earful. It was the burden of being a leader. Like Spider-Man said, “With great power comes great responsibility,” or something like that. I was learning as I went. As our bus pulled away from Killarney in the wee hours of the morning on the third day, headed to Dublin, I was deep into planning our “free day” in the capital city, a place that had been one of my favorites during my honeymoon.
Three days without rain was more like it.
We were also starting to gel as a group, forming some inside jokes and being more relaxed with each other. Intermittently our tour guide would give us some information on some obscure facts and historical notes. He would also lead us in some rounds of songs. About halfway to Dublin we stopped at some ruins that were beyond amazing. It was a series of buildings in massive disrepair, but they were obviously old, and we took a bunch of pictures there. And get this: it hadn’t rained at all during the first three days of our Irish journey. It made me think of the old Enya album, A Day Without Rain, which was ironic because it rains nearly every day in Ireland, so yes, it was strange, but we were enjoying it immensely, being able to sightsee without that over our heads. Our tour guide told us we had only an hour in the ruins, so we took off in separate groups to explore. I went with one of my other chaperones and eight students to the ruins farther off and we took some amazing photos there. It was easily one of the highlights. Continue reading “You Call This a Shower?: Part 5”
So, yeah, I was the one who got lost, and I’m still embarrassed about it to this day. You can believe my crew never let me live it down either. When we got up that second day in Shannon, Ireland, I felt like death warmed over, but I took a long shower and pretended I was in the rain forest. You know, because the water pressure was horrible and was more like a mist than anything else. I couldn’t help still feeling dirty even after a long shower, but it was better than nothing, I guess.
The bus took us through Limerick where we stopped to stretch, and on to Killarney, which was a magical place. We started our tour at Ross Castle where our tour guide told us so many historical stories of the 15th century castle. I also went by myself down the street to an ATM to get out some Euros for the tip for a guide I hadn’t known we’d have. It’s also when I started worrying that we hadn’t placed enough in our account to deal with the cadre of guides we would use along the way, but I put it out of my head for the moment. When I headed back to the castle the group was ready to move on.
Climbing in the national park. County Kerry.
Being such a large group, though, several of the leaders wanted to go to the national park while others wanted to visit St. Mary’s Cathedral. I led the smaller group to see St. Mary’s, and that was what eventually led to me getting lost. See, they were doing some roadwork and the bus was going to meet the first group at the park in two hours’ time, then come back to get us at St. Mary’s. On our way to St. Mary’s several of my group members said they were hungry and wanted to go to Subway to get some food (yes, there is a Subway in Killarney). I wasn’t hungry so I said I would just meet them at St. Mary’s and use a few minutes of my alone time to do a little sightseeing in Killarney. Continue reading “You Call This a Shower?: Part 4”
After such a long transatlantic journey and an introduction to so many new people, it was easy to forget that I was responsible for 12 students across the world from where we lived. We arrived at the Shannon hotel in the early morning hours and were given our rooms. Now, instead of being able to sleep for eons like we all desperately wanted (we were a scraggly looking crew after the long bus and plane rides, and it being early morning), we had a grand total of one hour to clean up and get ready for our first bus tour. I used the time to make sure I knew where all my travelers were bunking, to call the first person in the phone tree to let them know we were there safely, and of course to get clean.
Now, I had been to Europe before, on a trip to Ireland with my new wife for our honeymoon in 2003, so I had been introduced to the “shower culture”of the Emerald Isle, but it had been so long ago that I forgot what it had been all about… until I turned on that water in the hotel room in Shannon. Then it all came flooding back, no ironic pun intended. To say the water pressure was lacking would be putting it a bit accurately. If it had been dripping on me, drop by drop, I would have probably felt the exact same way I did standing under what was called a shower, and I had my doubts. But I didn’t have much time and had to keep moving, not at all feeling refreshed yet on the move anyway.
Then back to the huge bus, one of those that settled down before the door opened, and to our clearly Irish bus driver and clearly British tour director. But our group was clearly American so we started talking and we didn’t stop until we got to a roadside cafe in the Irish countryside, a charming little place that served “breakfast & lunch” on a regular basis, but I remember thinking they would make more money if they served dinner too. We were responsible for our own lunches, so each of my group members went into their previously concealed fanny packs (I made them wear those) to get out those new Euros that we all still didn’t quite understand the value of. Which brought us to one of the biggest debates I had with the parents and students before we even left for Europe. Alcohol control. Continue reading “You Call This a Shower?: Part 3”
I knew I was still crazy, but it felt like a good kind of crazy the closer we came to getting on that airplane for a six hour trip fast forward in time across the Atlantic. And then the day had arrived, the one I had been waiting for an entire two years, or even since I first left that booth at NCTE (the national English teacher’s conference) in late November, 2005, and we were loading up on the Greyhound bus headed for New York City: me, 12 students, and 3 chaperones. The bus was a concession we had to make because I had unwittingly secured us a tour out of the NYC without first finding a way for us to get to the NYC. We somehow got sixteen seats on the bus, though, and made our way to the city that doesn’t sleep, with our plethora of bags, ready for our great adventure.
Part of the crew.
When we got to New York City it was a quick trip from the bus station to the airport, but our times were really close so we had to hurry. Little did we know then how much of a story rushing would be for us during the rest of the journey, but we made our first flight with no real problems. It was the changeover I was most worried about, however, as we had to fly to London first, then cross through the airport to board the plane to Ireland, all in a matter of two hours. The biggest problem was that we would have to go through customs in London, then all the way across the airport to the Ireland terminal and through security before being able to board the next plane. Our tour guide would meet us once we arrived in the Shannon airport and take it from there.
But our plane got into Heathrow late, and the queue for customs was longer than the line for a Justin Bieber concert, not to mention that two in our group were waylaid at customs for whatever reasons. Passports were in order, we weren’t even staying in England, and they had to put our trip on pause while the rest of time moved on. I kept checking my watch while the customs agent tried to explain something I would never understand anyway. Eventually we kept moving, but by that time our group was champing at the bit knowing how little time we had. Once we left customs we sprinted for the Aer Lingus counter to check in and get our boarding passes, and when we were about halfway there we heard that boarding had started. Yikes. We picked up the pace, got there in record time, got our passes, and headed through security. Where we had another issue. Continue reading “You Call This a Shower?: Part 2”
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