Saturday, 27 June 2015
I’d been wanting to check out a Dublin farmers market that I’d read about, held on Saturdays (only) in St. Anne’s Park. I’d visited the park a couple times, but never the Red Stables, which have been converted to an art center, and whose grounds host the farmers market.
It was a pretty day and there was a good turnout, and if I lived here, I’d definitely shop at this market. There were lots of tempting foodstuffs.
The market was just a stop on our way to Gerry’s house, where I packed a second suitcase of things to travel home with me in anticipation of Gerry’s emigration.
Interestingly, we’d checked out of a Clayton Hotel downtown … and were checking back in to a Clayton Hotel (the former Bewley’s Hotel) at the airport. This is our standard routine: check in to the airport hotel, drop our bags, fill (the gas tank) and then return the car. All the rental car concerns have shuttles that take you to and from the airport, and all the hotels have shuttles that take you to and from the airport—so we went from Hertz to the airport and from there back to the hotel.
This sounds like a lot but it was a matter of minutes. When I was here two years ago, everything around the airport was torn up for construction and it was a nightmare getting around. Signs were missing, lanes were missing, entrances were closed … I’ll never forget the utter humiliation of the shaming number the Budget Car Rental guy did on me during that trip. (“What TOOK you so long?” he said, as if I’d purposely been avoiding him. “You were supposed to follow me!” But we were five miles away on the other side of a complicated freeway interchange, and you took off and didn’t wait, you arrogant little prick, is what I thought, and now wish I’d said. There was no signage. We drove around the airport loop three times. We had to stop and ask how to find you.) It was all I could do not to cry that evening, and we wouldn’t have been there at all if the car hadn’t kept overheating, which was their fault, not mine. (Moral of the story: don’t use Budget in Dublin.)
But all that construction is finished now. It’s all cleaned up. We drove right to where we wanted to be, and my blood pressure remained at a reasonable level. 🙂
So we got settled, and just went down to the dining room for a quick supper at 6pm, which was when it was advertised to open. “Do you have a reservation?” the manager asked. Ummm. There’s no one in the dining room. No, we say. (Really? A dinner reservation? In a hotel specializing in people leaving—an airport hotel? But the staff were running around completely disorganized and crazy. Turns out they were preparing for a tour group to be in for dinner at 7pm. That group took up about a third of the room.) Our service was slow, of course. But the floorshow was interesting.