A Broad Abroad

Cork International Airport has only two double-door entrances and BusÉirann 226 to Kinsale picks up in front of one. I sit two seats behind a bald, round-headed man. On the way, I overhear him talking to (not with!) a couple across the aisle from him and I am reminded — they speak English in Ireland, but it’s a different language.  I could understand nary a word except a repeated phrase, “woined and doined”… wined and dined, I presume. His bobbing head, his sing-song tone and incantations, keep a smile on my face until he presses the stop button overhead. He stands, smiles, nods his head to the couple as he steps off and says, “Right!”

Arriving in Kinsale, the bus exits passengers onto Pier Road.

Weary but exhilarated, I need a hotel. Sleepwalking, I pass Hotel Acton. The front lawn is grand, but the white and gray building with block script looks kinda sterile, more like a hospital. Those tour groups where the leader holds a sign for all to follow in line probably book here. It may be an exceptional hotel … but I’m not feelin’ it. Walk on.

At the wharf and end of the road, I reach the World’s End, as its locally called (how cool is that?! The Vikings named it thus while wintering there) and the Trident Hotel. Its’ old cobbled stones blend artfully with the newer structure — wood with a varnish resembling  a yar wooden ship. Unpretentious yet sovereign, it calls to me, “Welcome”.

“I understand this is last-minute but do you have a standard room available for a few nights?” I ask Mary, the young trainee at reception. She seems amused with my “how I got here” story and kindly gives me an upgrade.

This trusting the Universe thing is working ‘Suite-ly’.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine. – R.E.M.

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