Planes, Trains and Orthotics: A Middle-Age Woman's Guide to Travel

A few days before our trip, my sister called me and excitedly explained that she had booked us for a two-hour spa treatment that she had read about in a British country magazine.  She explained that the spa was located just 30 minutes from the house in Northern Ireland—- clearly far enough away from the “Troubles” in Derry that she was so concerned about. She further described that this was a very different type of spa which included, a salt water bath, Finnish and aromatherapy saunas,  a dip in the lake, and that I should bring my bathing suit. There is so much in that last sentence that give me pause.  First, it is March.  As if having  an inadequate time period for preparing myself to wear a bathing suit wasn’t enough of an issue, “a dip in the lake?”  Other than my sister and a few of her Irish friends, no one in this country has seen me out of my winter coat all week! The prospect of getting out of that coat, into a bathing suit and then into a lake -without the coat- almost put

It is early Wednesday morning and I am sitting in my sister and brother-in-law’s family house on the West Coast of Ireland, drinking coffee and listening to bucolic Irish music...and I’m getting a bit antsy. I admit that I am forever struggling with my “relaxation-challenged” personality while on vacation, but as much as I love it here, I struggle here the most. First, there is no gym. I don’t mean in the house, I mean anywhere. I am used to that 5 AM alarm going off, so that I can head to the Y and get a good work out before leaving for work. But other than a small grocery store, a butcher shop, an Internet cafe (I wasn’t even aware that these places still existed) and of course, a Catholic Church, there’s not much going on in this little hamlet. I am very fond of “a good stretch of the legs,” (Quoting Maureen O’Hara from “The Quiet Man”) and I would be perfectly happy to go for an early morning walk, but as many times as I have been here, I can never seem to figure out how to indep

Our travel adventure began where it usually does...Newark Liberty International Airport. It was a good day for us United travelers, as we were only about a half hour late, or as I like to think of it, “the new on-time.”  Apparently, I can deal with a bit of lateness much better then I can the misnomer, “Economy Plus.” As our flight to Dublin would be overnight, and as my sister and I are both in our 50’s, an age in which the maximum opportunity for slumber is optimal, we decided to pay a bit extra and get the “EconomyPlus.” seats.  What a waste. We did have a bit more leg room but I thought that my thighs and butt had significantly spread since arriving at the airport because the seats were so narrow and upon sitting, I barely had room to spare.  I also thought my arms had puffed up because the arm rests had become so thin. And no matter how many times you fold that white rectangle they call a pillow—you just can’t get comfortable. I tried to sleep by putting my head on the tray table

My sister and I will be returning to Ireland later this week.  We don’t get to spend a lot of quality time together and we are looking forward to our trip. We will be arriving in Dublin very early in the morning of March 17th-St. Patrick’s Day! I immediately began researching our touring options upon arrival. I was thrilled to have found a tour entitled, “The Walk of St. Patrick,” which will take us to a variety of places linked with the Patron Saint of Ireland. My sister....not so much. I excitedly sent her the link and waited for her response. RADIO SILENCE. I finally called her and while she didn’t say I was out of my mind, I know her well, and I know that’s just what she was thinking. She reminded me that we are going to a city on a day that the drinking will probably begin no later than 8 am, which is four hours before the huge parade begins. She said that in all probability, we will be traipsing in and out of churches, while everyone else in the city would be drunk as skunks. H