Driving on the wrong side of the bed

Woke up, got out of bed dragged a comb … And got on a plane toward Dublin. Spent five hours at Dulles waiting for a plane (feeling just as faded as my jeans). Could not even fall asleep on board even while watching Phantom Thread.

Arrived Dublin car rental at 11 a.m., a reasonable 6 a.m. cicadian time, except for the no sleep part. Picked up our left-hand stick-shift auto and headed for Westport. Not sure if it was the shift or the driving on the wrong side, but we immediately headed in the wrong direction. An hour and one more wrong turn later, we were on our way.

It’s easier to drive through a roundabout than to make a straight up right turn. I still want to go into the right lane out of a turn. And when I get into the car, I still open the wrong door.

We finally made it to our lovely B&B, the Brooklodge, in Westport, and immediately went on a forced march to the Quay, a hilly hour-long trek. A fresh bottle of water helped wake me up, and the scenery at the Quay was stunning.

We ended the day with a fine meal of local mussels at O’Malley’s Pub.

Sleep came easily by 10 p.m. (that’s five in the afternoon in dog years), and up at 7 for a fine Irish breakfast of eggs, fruit, ham, toast, and a variety of sausages.

Onward, to Galway.


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