Planes, Trains, and Ferryboats: Getting to Galway

Warning: This blog contain an angry tirade against RyanAir. The ultra cheap airline prides itself on low fares and being on time, but that’s all they have to brag about considering their customer service, treatment of passengers, and general demeanor lack charm or accountability. So be warned, I’m not a RyanAir fan. Read RuinAir for a lengthier account.

Miriam and I booked through RyanAir to head out to Dublin from London Gatwick for £20 return. We were pleasantly surprised to make it to the airport on time after a delay on the motorway. Following a swift check-in and an unobtrusive security screening, we found ourselves alongside the masses waiting for the gate information.

The cheaper airlines love to keep you waiting in the exterior lounge for the gate number to pop up on a miniature screen. Once it does, keep your elbows at the quick and nimble position so you can fight off the hoards of people running to your gate. RyanAir might be the only airline that drives respectable looking businessmen to the great lengths of tripping children in order to secure an aisle seat. But in typical travel fashion, you simply hurry up to wait. We eventually make it to the plane, find a seat, and resist the temptation of buying lottery tickets or overpriced Fanta.

We were greeted by mists of rain as we descended into Dublin, but better yet, we were also greeted by our Irish friend Sarah. We spent the evening at her abode in Swords, a suburb north of Dublin, catching up on all the gossip and events since we last saw each other.

Considering Miriam and I had already “done Dublin” as tourists, we decided to explore another region of this beautiful island. We hopped a bus from the city centre to Heuston Station (€1.30), where we decided to head to Galway. Nothing like last minute decisions in the rain.

Three hours and €44 later we found ourselves in the City of Galway, one of the larger cities in Ireland, though it seems much smaller than that. We were advised by some friends that this was the place for traditional music and a good pint of equally traditional Guinness. Galway was even ranked 14^th best tourist destination in Europe, ahead of Paris, London, and Rome.

A quick search on hostelworld.com led us to The Sleepzone Hostel and we couldn’t have made a better choice. For 14 euros a night, we had an all-female dorm room (six beds) with a surprisingly clean ensuite shower. There was free internet and tea/coffee in the a.m., along with a helpful, friendly staff. It’s no wonder this place was ranked best hostel in Ireland.

Head out to Quay Street (pronounced “key”) to find a row of restaurants and pubs. This tourist area is like the Temple Bar of Galway, yet it’s somewhat cheaper and better quality than the Dublin version. We stopped into Fat Freddy’s Bistro for a bite to eat, dined by candlelight, and managed to rack up a bill under 20 euros.

Once on Quay, you just have to listen to find the right pub to pick. The sounds to look out for come in the form of flutes and bagpipes, cheers and stomping feet. We wandered into the Spanish Arch Hotel and the room was bouncing with energy. The band Alalé was performing and they can be summed up in a word: incredible.

The mix of traditional Irish harmonies with some Spanish fusion made the room erupt in applause for this local band. It was the kind of performance you’d expect to pay for, but the only money I spent was on a pint of Guinness (the dark stuff always makes you feel a little more Irish). This band makes you want to abandon all sense of propriety and jump around the bar with a grin plastered on your face. The fast paced music just screamed with energy, so much in fact, we went back the next night. These four guys know how to play and they made the trip to Galway entirely worth it.

And thank goodness for the Galway experience, because by the time we made it back to the Dublin airport two minutes after RyanAir closed its check in, we were deeply considering if the trip had been worth it. They closed five minutes early and pleading with a snotty woman wearing a RyanAir badge didn’t help us check in. Instead, we were directed to the sales desk where they claimed no flights to England were available that day. The next best thing? A €75 flight to London the next day at noon. We scratched that option and hunted down an internet connection.

Skyscanner.net gave us more options and less attitude than the help desk, though everything under €225 was the following day. With time running out (literally… those internet kiosks are pay by the minute), we booked a flight to Birmingham for 6 a.m. We can blame the Dublin bus system for being unreliable. We can blame RyanAir for closing the check-in desk early. We can blame ourselves for not allotting more time to get there. But in the end, the blame game doesn’t matter when you have to spend 15 hours in the airport.

Needless to say, we survived, though not without a heightened addiction to caffeine. We bought overpriced airport food, read some books, watched TV, slept for an hour on a Starbucks chair, and even had a book and a magazine stolen from the bagel place. But now I can consider myself a true and tested tourist, as all avid travelers need to spend at least one night in an airport.