Wednesday, September 12, 2007
More of the Irish!
I intended to write some more about Ireland Tuesday morning. But, when I got to work, the producers banished me from the building. Back on August 24, I did FirstNews from the high-tech, hi-def weather perch then disappeared to the other side of the ocean for a couple weeks before returning on Monday. Apparently, after that one day, it became clear that seeing me in high definition is something viewers can only take now and then. So, as a service to the public, the producers sent me out on the street. Because of that, I did not get the chance to write more about the trip to the land of "40 shades of green." (Okay, there has not been a flood of e-mails or voice-mails demanding that I write about Ireland...or about anything else, for that matter...but I like to think there is a silent majority just itching to know about ME ME ME!!!)
Speaking of "40 shades of green," I added to that by leaving behind too much of our own green. They use Euros over there and, frankly, if there was a mud-wrestling match between the Euro and the American dollar, right now, it would be like Hulk Hogan facing Don Knotts. The dollar gets smacked around pretty good. I swear that every time I traded dollars for Euros, George Washington was weeping. At one point, at the Blarney Woolen Mills, we decided to do the majority of our souvenir shopping. As the total was coming up on the register, my wife and I were rather pleased, thinking we had stayed within our budget. However, when the Euros were converted to US bucks, it was clear that our budget was...well...BLARNEY! There is also this Value-Added-Tax deal. The VAT. If you take your receipts or little charge card to the appropriate place at the Dublin airport, you can get a refund of about 17%. When the very helpful clerks at the various stores first started to tell me about this situation, I took great offense. I thought they were saying "Well, sir, you will need to visit the FAT area of the airport. The FAT area is exactly where you want to go. Remember. FAT." Then, I realized they were saying VAT. I think.
Of course, green is the color of the country. But, in many ways, COLOR is the color of the country. You've got the multi-colored doors all over Dublin and, in each little town, the store fronts are painted every color of the rainbow. Speaking of rainbows, we saw several. The rest of the tour group kept sending me out to find the pot of gold. I never did but, to my credit, I usually caught up with the bus by the end of the day. Even the sheep were splotched with different hues. The sheep are everywhere. They climb clear up to the top of the hills and bluffs until they are just little dots from the road. However, they also hang out right on the roadways. Because they wander so freely, the blues, reds, greens on their sides are there to denote ownership. Although, I'm pretty sure I saw an ongoing game of tic-tac-toe on the side of one of the creatures.
The towns we visited each had a personality all its own. Dublin is a very bustling city of more than a million. If you put Chicago in the dryer and it shrunk, it would be Dublin. It was also the only place my wife found a Starbucks. Word of warning to coffee drinkers: Ireland has great milk, cheese, bread and beef but the coffee is another matter. By the time we got back to Dublin on day ten, we practically had to put Jessica on an IV Drip of Starbucks.
Galway was pretty...like in the old Bing Crosby song...but, also, at night, a rather wild spot. Actually, based on what I've read about Ol' Bing, he enjoyed a good time, too. Limerick is the home of Frank McCourt, the author of Angela's Ashes. If you've ever read that great book, you know that the picture he paints of his hometown is not pretty. Consequently, he's not exactly a hometown hero. So, when we drove through town, our driver/guide pointed down a side-street and muttered "Frank McCourt lived down there." Killarney may have been my favorite town of all. First of all, we were in a really cool, older hotel. It looked like something out of an old Cary Grant movie. (Are there any "new" Cary Grant movies?) It was right across the street from the gorgeous national park. That park of 24,000 acres was donated by two prominent fellows: John McShain, who built the Pentagon, and Grace Kelly's father, John. Go out the other side of the hotel and you are on a very busy, fun street full of shops and pubs. Go one more direction and you can be sitting in church. So, you can ask for nature, ask for fun and ask for forgiveness on one short stroll. Kilkenny is another pretty town. The castle there is very well-preserved. So much so, I was hoping they could provide a similar refurbishment to broken-down weathermen. By the last evening of the trip, my wife and I had totally forgotten which room we were in...six hotels in nine days will do that to you. Nowadays, with the little key cards, you don't have a room number on there anymore. When I lived in Las Vegas, about a quarter century ago, I saw women throw their room keys at Tom Jones. Now, he'd end up with cuts and scratches all over his face from the hard plastic key cards and no room numbers. Well, we ended up sticking the card in the slot of a few wrong doors...mumbled "Candygram" or "Landshark" and ran down the hallway.
As for pictures of the trip, as soon as all the gadgets are set up to show weather photos again, I'll be using shots from the folks on the tour. I already have a bunch of great ones. (By the way, the technological reasons we can't show the photos yet, is only partially related to the half a dozen on-going games of computer solitaire I have going on all the monitors in the new, fancy-schmancy weather center.) Also, we maybe putting a few of the photos here on TheKansasCityChannel.com. I'll keep you posted. Look at it this way, at least you're not being invited over and strapped in a chair, forced to look at this or that pile of rocks or me being pelted by half-eaten shepherd's pie thrown by the other bus-riders...not that that really happened. Or shots of me being slapped by a shop clerk. It wasn't really my fault. How was I supposed to know that Erin Go Bragh has nothing to do with lingerie?
As I remember more Irish goodies, I'll pass them along. Tomorrow, a little bit about what happened on the home front while we were jet-setting. One hint: after being gone for ten days, the dog still isn't speaking to me.
Speaking of "40 shades of green," I added to that by leaving behind too much of our own green. They use Euros over there and, frankly, if there was a mud-wrestling match between the Euro and the American dollar, right now, it would be like Hulk Hogan facing Don Knotts. The dollar gets smacked around pretty good. I swear that every time I traded dollars for Euros, George Washington was weeping. At one point, at the Blarney Woolen Mills, we decided to do the majority of our souvenir shopping. As the total was coming up on the register, my wife and I were rather pleased, thinking we had stayed within our budget. However, when the Euros were converted to US bucks, it was clear that our budget was...well...BLARNEY! There is also this Value-Added-Tax deal. The VAT. If you take your receipts or little charge card to the appropriate place at the Dublin airport, you can get a refund of about 17%. When the very helpful clerks at the various stores first started to tell me about this situation, I took great offense. I thought they were saying "Well, sir, you will need to visit the FAT area of the airport. The FAT area is exactly where you want to go. Remember. FAT." Then, I realized they were saying VAT. I think.
Of course, green is the color of the country. But, in many ways, COLOR is the color of the country. You've got the multi-colored doors all over Dublin and, in each little town, the store fronts are painted every color of the rainbow. Speaking of rainbows, we saw several. The rest of the tour group kept sending me out to find the pot of gold. I never did but, to my credit, I usually caught up with the bus by the end of the day. Even the sheep were splotched with different hues. The sheep are everywhere. They climb clear up to the top of the hills and bluffs until they are just little dots from the road. However, they also hang out right on the roadways. Because they wander so freely, the blues, reds, greens on their sides are there to denote ownership. Although, I'm pretty sure I saw an ongoing game of tic-tac-toe on the side of one of the creatures.
The towns we visited each had a personality all its own. Dublin is a very bustling city of more than a million. If you put Chicago in the dryer and it shrunk, it would be Dublin. It was also the only place my wife found a Starbucks. Word of warning to coffee drinkers: Ireland has great milk, cheese, bread and beef but the coffee is another matter. By the time we got back to Dublin on day ten, we practically had to put Jessica on an IV Drip of Starbucks.
Galway was pretty...like in the old Bing Crosby song...but, also, at night, a rather wild spot. Actually, based on what I've read about Ol' Bing, he enjoyed a good time, too. Limerick is the home of Frank McCourt, the author of Angela's Ashes. If you've ever read that great book, you know that the picture he paints of his hometown is not pretty. Consequently, he's not exactly a hometown hero. So, when we drove through town, our driver/guide pointed down a side-street and muttered "Frank McCourt lived down there." Killarney may have been my favorite town of all. First of all, we were in a really cool, older hotel. It looked like something out of an old Cary Grant movie. (Are there any "new" Cary Grant movies?) It was right across the street from the gorgeous national park. That park of 24,000 acres was donated by two prominent fellows: John McShain, who built the Pentagon, and Grace Kelly's father, John. Go out the other side of the hotel and you are on a very busy, fun street full of shops and pubs. Go one more direction and you can be sitting in church. So, you can ask for nature, ask for fun and ask for forgiveness on one short stroll. Kilkenny is another pretty town. The castle there is very well-preserved. So much so, I was hoping they could provide a similar refurbishment to broken-down weathermen. By the last evening of the trip, my wife and I had totally forgotten which room we were in...six hotels in nine days will do that to you. Nowadays, with the little key cards, you don't have a room number on there anymore. When I lived in Las Vegas, about a quarter century ago, I saw women throw their room keys at Tom Jones. Now, he'd end up with cuts and scratches all over his face from the hard plastic key cards and no room numbers. Well, we ended up sticking the card in the slot of a few wrong doors...mumbled "Candygram" or "Landshark" and ran down the hallway.
As for pictures of the trip, as soon as all the gadgets are set up to show weather photos again, I'll be using shots from the folks on the tour. I already have a bunch of great ones. (By the way, the technological reasons we can't show the photos yet, is only partially related to the half a dozen on-going games of computer solitaire I have going on all the monitors in the new, fancy-schmancy weather center.) Also, we maybe putting a few of the photos here on TheKansasCityChannel.com. I'll keep you posted. Look at it this way, at least you're not being invited over and strapped in a chair, forced to look at this or that pile of rocks or me being pelted by half-eaten shepherd's pie thrown by the other bus-riders...not that that really happened. Or shots of me being slapped by a shop clerk. It wasn't really my fault. How was I supposed to know that Erin Go Bragh has nothing to do with lingerie?
As I remember more Irish goodies, I'll pass them along. Tomorrow, a little bit about what happened on the home front while we were jet-setting. One hint: after being gone for ten days, the dog still isn't speaking to me.
Posted at 2:25 AM
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