Twofer: Sunday to Monday

Polly here again, just so you can get the right voice in your head...

First, to catch you up on St. Pat's Day in Ireland. Quite nice - not a huge deal, although many stores sell unbelievable ugly decorations made in China - the loveliest of which are these shorts with a fake butt that says "Kiss my ass" in Irish.

We went to downtown Waterford to find the farmer's market advertised in the paper. No farmer's market - there were five stalls on the wrong street, only one with produce, but that was it. So we walked around people watching until the parade. Mostly the kids were dressed up - orange, white and green Viking hats, green hair, fun stuff. Then we headed over to the parade route and were soon joined by David's drinking friends, their partners and baby Pippa (daughter of one of the lads). The parade was what we expected - lots of scout troops, the local Harley Davidson club, a couple funky homemade floats. Then we went over to Darren's to watch the rugby match. Their apartment is very cute - and small, they live right down town. It isn't really small for here, but not what us Americans are used to! They have a screen that pulls down with a projector, so it was quite an amazing place to watch the match.

Ireland won the match, but they lost the tournament because they didn't win by enough points - heartbreaking.

And in other news, I became official yesterday! I registered with the Garda (police), who handle the immigration services in Ireland. I also applied for a PPS number, equivalent of a Social Security Number, so I can get a license, job and health insurance - that should come in a week or so.

Now back the story of my adventurous journey here:

Sunday: Sleep and a $18 Heineken

Taking advantage of the fact that there was nothing I could do on Sunday, I caught up on sleep and relaxing. I had picked up some Raisin Bran in the city on Saturday, so I got a cup of milk from the café and enjoyed breakfast in my room ($2 – I was getting the hang of NY on the cheap!).

Mid-afternoon I got tired of watching movies, reading and that tiny room and decided to venture out. I got online in the lobby and found out what was nearby – not much. I was in the middle of a very industrial area, but there was a Sheraton about a ½ mile down the road, so I set off.

I haven’t yet mentioned one of the difficulties of this adventure, the Howard Johnson’s was dry. I’m not a big booze hound, as you all know, but after the experience of the last few days, a beer sounded quite nice. I headed out into the cold – it had been snowing on and off that day so it was quite chilly. It was a lovely walk – the only thing between my hotel and the Sheraton was the Continental employee parking and some empty lots – really lovely (ha).

I arrived at the Sheraton around 2:40 and inquired about the bar. It was in the back of the lovely glass ceilinged lobby and opened at 3. No problem, I found a discarded Wall Street Journal and a comfy couch with a view of the bar doors. After 25 minutes, I went to the front desk to confirm the 3 o’clock opening. Yes, I was told, 3, it should be open now. Okay, back to the back of the lobby, nope, doors still locked. I flipped through the paper again, but was getting anxious. There was no way I wanted to do that lovely walk back to HoJo’s in the dark. 3:15, I headed back to the front desk.

Front desk clerk: “Still not open?”

Me: “No. Any idea what’s going on?”

Manager arriving from back: “You watch the desk, I’ll take her back to check things out.”

Manager and I walk back to bar, where the doors are still shut.

Manager: “Yeah, it’s not opened”

(Set of large wood double doors bolted shut – yes, I am so stupid I didn’t know that that meant they weren’t open, thank goodness he cleared that up for me.)

We head into the restaurant next door.

Manager: “Why isn’t the bar open?”

Hostess: “The guy that was supposed to open quit.”

I am laughing at this point – I mean can this be real? Manager and hostess work out that they will serve me “a drink.” Great. I’m seated in a fancy restaurant – the only person in that restaurant. The waiter comes over: “You can have beer or wine.” Luckily I wanted beer, but nice of them to mention that when they decided to seat me. My choices, Bud, Bud Light, Michelobe, Coors, Coors Light and Heineken (okay, that probably wasn’t the exact list, but close). So, Heineken I guess. Oh and some spring rolls – might as well have some decent food while I’m here. They came on some greens, so I called the whole thing dinner.

Back home to kitty and an exciting evening of more TV and turning in early. I had to get up early for my big day of vet visiting and passport retrieving.

Monday: Nutley Dreaming

Up early Monday to be ready to make vet phone calls at 8. If I was going to make the vet appointment in Manhattan, I had to leave the hotel at 9, so timing was critical. I called around and found a vet that could get me in that morning in Nutley, which is north of Newark, but that is about all that I can tell you (I think that was the name of the people that built the house that we lived in by Lake Samish - right mom?). I gathered up the cat and her paperwork and called a cab. The car service that the hotel had called for me Saturday charged me $20 for the ride between the hotel and Newark’s Penn Station, but the cab back was only $12. So, I was not going to rely on the hotel again for arranging my rides. I went out to the lobby with about 30 minutes until my appointment, and the vet had told me the ride would be 15 minutes. I waited for the cab that I called – about 25 minutes. Finally I gave up and had the hotel call me a car. We passed the Newark Penn Station about 5 minutes, then continued on another 20 minutes or so, so I was dreading the bill.

I arrived at the busy Nutley Vet Hospital and checked in – only $40 – seemed like a small amount at the time. They asked if I had the paperwork, and I said no, but I had the phone number that they could call to get it faxed. It was an Irish number, so they couldn’t call from their phone (so they said). There were signs all over the lobby about not using cell phones, so I asked if I could use my cell phone to call to get the paperwork, which I was allowed to do. Another 20 minutes, they took her back, then I was called back. I tried to talk the vet through the paperwork – which was making me very nervous. After six months of carrying around the USDA endorsed forms, then this random vet fills the new forms in wrong – arghhh!

Another half an hour waiting to pay the bill – again, not bad, they only charged me for the meds and not the office appointment – very nice. Car service had returned to collect us, and we headed back to HoJo’s.

A couple hours of relaxing, then into Manhattan for my passport. This time, I tried a new route – hotel shuttle to the airport, sky train (monorail – so Seattle) to the airport train station (which is actually across the highway from the airport), then NJ Transit into the city. $14 each way, 75 to 90 minutes. I arrived at the passport agency about 5 minutes early, so waited until 5. Went to the passport desk, sat down facing someone different than I had talked to Saturday. Gave my name, it wasn’t in the file (don’t panic), what’s the name? “Radebaugh.” “Polly?” “Yes!” (They know my first name – good sign?).

“It’ll be here tomorrow.”

What???? "Tomorrow, my flight’s tomorrow...I’m staying in Newark...it takes me an hour and a half to get here...you told me today...my passport was stolen...I’m moving from Seattle to Ireland...are you freaking kidding me!"

"It will be here tomorrow at 11 am."

"11 am – you sure, it will be here at 11 am?"

"Yes."

"If I come back tomorrow, that would be Tuesday, at 11 am, it will be here."

"Yes."

I wanted to ask for a signature in blood, but though that might get me arrested.

I had planned a celebratory dinner in Manhattan, but didn’t want to jinx things. I decided a Guinness at the Irish pub that I passed down the block, would at least help. I mean, if I couldn't be on the way to the country, this was the next best thing right. In fact, the two gals working there were from Ireland, so I got to practice understanding the accent. Next door was a deli – I had to have a big deli sandwich in the Big Apple, right? So I did – turkey, pastrami, salami and coleslaw. So delicious! Seriously, it was good!

What now? It’s evening, I’m in New York City – what to do?! It just so happened that the Empire State Building was between me and the train station. I had never been to the top – why not? I headed into the herding maze of the lobby, paid my $18 and headed up the elevators. Perfect timing – the sun was setting on a beautiful day! City lights came on under a pink sky. I wind storm was brewing and it was unbelievably cold, but gorgeous!

I had heard someone mention a game at the Madison Square Garden, so I headed over to see if it was basketball or hockey. Bummer – it was the Rangers, I would have loved seeing the Knicks at the Garden. They were playing Tuesday night – they were hosting the Sonics! Bitter – I would (hopefully) be getting on a plane Tuesday night. If the cat wasn’t with me, I would have been tempted to call Continental to check on the availability of a Wednesday flight!

Coffee and dessert in the city, then back to Newark.

We are off to Cork for the weekend. Had planned to meet our neighbors from Seattle in London, but it turns out Waterford to London is very expensive, or a very long day, or a nasty overnight bus ride with no bathroom. So, down to Cork instead for shopping and eating. Kinsale is a village just south of Cork that is well known for its great restaurants. Tell you about it next week!