Why Ireland's Amazing: First Installment

And...we're back!  AH and I arrived in Paris Monday afternoon, and Mama and Papa AH were back safely in the States later that evening, and boy, are there many stories to be told and pictures to be downloaded.  I was hoping to do this in some sort of succinct manner, but I feel like I would be short-changing the trip to try to sum it up in one entry, so this is going to be a multi-parter.  

To go ahead and give you the spoiler, a truly amazing time was had by all.  I'm trying to convince AH that someday, once he's patented some fancy laser something that makes us obscenely rich, we should buy a summer home in western Ireland (yes, I know it's chilly, but I'm not exactly engineered for sun and sand anyway).  I want a blonde cow, some chickens from my sister in law, and a few sheep to make sweaters from (you know, because I'm so obscenely domestic and I love getting up early in the morning to do chores).

One of the most wonderful things about Ireland is the people.  The whole time we were there, I don't think I met a single unfriendly person.  On the evening that I was sick (more on that later), AH decided to pop down the street for a sandwich; I expected him back in no more than an hour.  Three hours later, my normally somewhat shy husband reappears, clearly having enjoyed a few pints, and tells me all about the new best friends that he's made down at the pub.  

On Saturday I was worried that my good luck with the Irish had reached its end when I called the number listed for the Abbey Theater and had the following conversation:

Man:  Hello?

Me: Hello, I have a question about the production this afternoon.

Man: Um, what production would that be?

Me: Translations by Brian Friel at the Abbey Theater.

What kind of box office doesn't even know it's own play?  I need to give Adrienne a call; this place clearly needs competent office management.

Man: OK, what's your question?

Me: Can you tell me whether the play is entirely in English or are portions in Gaelic?

Man: Um, I'm sure it'd be in English, I don't know why it wouldn't be.

Me:  Well, from the description it sounds like some of it might be in Gaelic.

Man:  Let me check the website...

Me: I checked the website.  It doesn't say anything about the language of the production. That's why I'm calling you.

This guy wins the prize for incompetence...

Man:  I'm sorry, but I don't see anything.  When you come down, maybe I can call someone?

Me: O...K? 

That made absolutely no sense at all.

So after ranting (loudly, of course, as I am wont to do) about this at breakfast, I go to the room to get my things and return to find that my in-laws have solved the mystery of the incompetent box office worker.

AH:  Um, honey, did you know that you have to dial out when you call from the room?

Me:  Why?

AH:  Because you had a very long and confusing conversation with Liam, the front desk man this morning.  He kept apologizing; he said you seemed very upset that he couldn't tell you what language the play showing at the Abbey Theater was.

And....mortification ensued.  It turns out that the Abbey doesn't have incompetent box office workers, but the Phoenix Park Hotel has some extremely tolerant and helpful front desk employees.