So sure, I did end my diary on the 27th, but the journey was not yet over.
I woke to my own alarm, which was good for no one called for me. I was ready ahead of time and went into the empty lobby and waited, not as eager as I thought I would be to get on with the business of getting home. The taxi driver came and loaded my heavy suitcase into the trunk and off we went. I just left my key to the Shrewsbury Suite on the desk.
On the way I don't remember what we spoke of, but I was taught that I had been pronouncing Nollaig Shona wrong in my head and the last word rhymed with how-na, as opposed to hoe-na. (For that matter, Howth rhymes with Both, but I bet you knew that. And then again Emmet writes into to tell me to say 'Nullig Hunna', and from here I have no choice but to recommend searching the gaeilge-b archives for more of this topic)
I did not have to wait too long at the counter and there were a fair number of people there in the black morning, all in good moods but respectful of the early hour. This time I got to see more of the airport, including the duty free shops. It was not that long before I was seated next to a cheerful plump Dutch woman and her son on our flight to Amsterdam (had never seen such a dark-featured Dutch person before and actually asked her what language they were speaking). The Duty Free shopping was being held in the air and I very narrowly beat out a man wanting the same last CD set of Irish music (I guiltily admit it is quite good) which I bought to use my Amsterdam paper money and get some Amsterdam coins for my collection. Before long we were landing in Amsterdam and I was hustling to my gate, with no time to shop and get the obligatory wooden shoes as I had so hoped.
The flight back, although about 90 minutes longer, was a million times better. An increasingly drunk older suburban cowboy businessman and I shared three seats between us, and I took some good photos from my window. It was daylight all the way, and our movies were "The Rock" and "Independence Day." The food gave me no adverse affects and the only bad moment was when I used the toilet and forgot to check the seat first. Ew. My mother taught me better than that.
Once into Houston it was dreadfully dull for I could not get an earlier flight and the terminal was amazingly hot, with everyone eventually asking everyone else if they were hot too. I called home, half-wishing someone had shown up there to surprise me, but everyone was still sick with the flu I never caught. I waited and waited and, well, what more can I say? Eventually I got a flight home, was met at the airport by Dad, went to eat Mexican food, and the next day I hauled all of my film to be processed in an hour and although I can blame part of the bad photos on the lab (for in several cases the negs look fine, but I blanch at the cost of individual reprints) my camera has never been very good since. Quite the mystery.
I have not been back to Ireland since. I have to assume I will, although I can't see how it will happen for many a year, but who knows. As the expression goes: Is glas iad na cnoic í bhfad uainn. Related Irish Vocabulary
- alarm - aláram
- coin - bonn
- photograph - fótagraf
- journey's end - ceann cúrsa
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