First 2 days in Ireland, 33 left to go!

We arrived in Shannon Airport early Wednesday morning, exhausted but enthusiastic. Our bicycles arrived in one piece, no help to Homeland Security rifling through our boxes. A short bus ride from the airport with intermittent dozing off brought us to the busy tourist infested metropolis of Cork. We assembled our bikes in a corner of the bus depot, becoming an entertaining spectacle to Japanese tourists and locals alike. Our first night lodging we stayed in Sheila's Hostel, splurging for a single ensuite, and enjoying every last minute of it-- a double bed, a pump-operated shower, and luggage room to store our bikes. We lugged ourselves to an Indian tandoori restraunt, followed by a self-guided derive-type walking tour of the town.

Wednesday morning we awoke at a decent time having slept thoroughly and deeply in recovery from the strenuous jet lag. Needless to say, we had no sleep the night before we left Oregon, packing things through the night, and leaving for the airport in Portland at 4am. After packing the panniers and loading up the bikes we found a lovely coffee roasting cafe, Cork Coffee Roasters, operated no doubt by a Seattlite who went to highschool in the Dalles, OR. Once she found out from where we hailed, she inquired into the Irish-man who was murdered in the small town of Silverton recently, no doubt, four blocks from Susan's parents' house. . .

After politely escaping the plathering of a curious older Irish gentleman named Francis on the sidewalk, we made the ardurous ride throught the tight traffic strewn roads and onto the N25 heading to Cohb-('cove'). This is where the Titanic made its last port departure. We wandered the streets, had a pint of the plain, attented a wedding in St. Patrick's Cathedral, and departed way too late for our ride that laid ahead. The ferry took us across the water, free of charge, from the rainy Cohb into the dry port of Monkstown. We continued riding and riding and riding, contemplating stopping from town after town, even resisting the tempting wafts of fish and chips, finding the sun sinking into the delicious storm ridden horizon.

Finally, at ten o'clock, but no joke, still bright outside, we made it to Kinsale where we are writing this in an internet cafe, faster typing than I am used to. . .as the clock is ticking and euro's are serious business. 1 euro for every 2 dollars, so everything is double! We are alive and well, have some good stories to tell already, and are looking forward to another long and fruitful day in the south coast of Ireland. The smells here are gorgeous. Much love, Susan and Alexander.