As I type this, I'm waiting in a very small, yet crowded, airport. We dropped the car off at around 11:00, and called our tour company to find out about arranging the ride to the tour place. It turns out that the tour company was to puck us up at nine thirty this morning. Our itinerary did not list any specific time to be at the Kerry airport. Instead, we have to wait until the driver returns (around 1:30) to drop off passengers for an early afternoon flight.

So we sit and wait for two hours.

The pay phones are interesting. You dial the number, wait for it to be answered, then you put your coins in. A timer comes up and counts down to 0:00, at which point your call is disconnected. This is a bit of a problem as the Irish like long goodbyes. You can't say "Okay, goodbye" and hang up. You have to go through all sorts of pleasantries. I was a bit worried that the call was going to be disconnected in the middle of our farewells and I'd have to call back to continue saying goodbye.

It took us over a half-hour to leave the bed and breakfast because of this. The husband came out and told his wife that she should let us go ere we stay until noon. Then he asked us what we thought of President Bush.

Ah. Interesting thing just happened. Ryanair Airlines, a much-maligned budget airline that operates in the area, just announced that the 1400h flight was delayed until 1530h. Over half of the people in the airport restaurant just said, "Awwwww....," in unision. It was like a cartoon. They then said this would delay the 1530h flight until 1630h, which prompted another "Awwww."

We're still pretty upset about the time thing. We finally left around twoish, but after a short drive to Killoglin, we were settled in Westfield House, our home for the next week. Already I miss the Ka. Our driver picked a fellow hiker and us up at the airport. The hiker, Jill, had all of her luggage missing. Good thing too, as the tour company sent out a small car to pick the three of us up. Our luggage filled the trunk.

I'm a bit disappointed. There are only six of us on this hiking trip, including the guide who looks like Tamara's grandmother. However, I get the feeling that she's going to wind up kicking our asses, hiking-wise. I thought it would be a larger group, about twelve or so. But no, just the five of us on holiday.

The two other hikers are continuing from two different hikes last week. Stacy is from midtown NYC (Tribeca actually) and told us about the previous week's trials: bogs, sheep dip, and steep descents. I have the feeling that we're in a bit of trouble -- these walks are about a mile longer than the ones we've been doing back in Jersey and sound like they'll be a bit more strenuous.

Spent an hour at a pub, listening to a 12-string guitar and an accordion. The accordion was overpowering. The Guinness was good.

Silly town names:Killorglin. Kill comes from the Gaelic word "Cill" which means "church". Linguists think that this town's name was derived from the Gaelic words for "church over the glen". As this is where we'll be based out of for the next six days or so, there probably won't be any more silly town names entries.

-FP