Footsteps of Steele - Saturday

We got up early on Saturday morning to give us a leisurely end to our vacation. There’s nothing worse than scrambling around and getting stressed. After all that is the entire reason to have a vacation, lose the stress and get back to a more centered existence.

Since we were in the south suburbs of Dublin and the airport was on the north side, we had to allow at least an hour to get there. We decided to skip the €24 breakfast at our lovely hotel and take advantage of the free airport lounge for our brunch. We finished packing and double checking every square inch of the room in hopes of finding that winning Irish lottery ticket to extend our stay. Mickey and the bellman did an excellent job of prying Auburn out of the room, but she’ll probably get the repair bill for the claw marks left on the door jamb.

The bellman did a fantastic job of packing the car, somehow managing to get all the luggage in the trunk. There must have been a latch that added 12 cubic feet of room that we just didn’t see all week or some secret bellman trick. We left the most extravagant hotel in a clown car with seagull crap on the entire right side in a cloud of dust. But because it was a ritzy hotel even the dust smelled like a lavender vanilla blend.

When we checked out the front desk staff gave us an information sheet with directions to the airport but we disregarded it as we had Nanny “GPS to the stars” Perkins to guide us. We asked for directions "home" and set off on our way.  Our first clue should have been when Nanny did not have us turn on the motorway, which would have been the fastest route, but it also had one toll section so we thought perhaps she was just saving us the €3 toll. Bless her heart! We meandered through Dublin pointing out places we recognized. We found a gas station close enough so we could top off the tank. We absolutely will not miss the price of their petrol.

We continued on, thinking this was a most round-about route when finally Nanny showed us reaching our destination. Only trouble is she wasn't pointing to the rental car return or even the airport but someone’s home address vaguely near the airport!  Another travel tip: next time you rent a GPS, ensure the "home" location is the rental car return!  Now getting short of time, we asked Nanny to take us back to the airport. We breathed a sigh of relief sighting the planes and finally road signs indicating Dublin International Airport. But that traitorous, cranky electronic audio fiend led us to where the car rental agency USED to be, a tumble weed-infested vacant lot with guard dogs and a moat. We vaguely recalled driving out of a parking deck a week ago, so we turned around and sped off.

We managed to spot two decks, but we had to choose. There was no time left for circling the airport again. We chose right, since everything this week was actually left. We drove up to the entrance and still saw no indication of where to return the car. Auburn was musing about the possibility of simply blowing up the car as we did have the premium insurance plan. But Mickey spotted a shuttle driver and reminded Auburn we left the explosives back home. It turns out we did choose wisely and were at the correct deck. On the way in we saw the small lettering on the garage where we were to return the car. We finally found a spot for our car, parked and hustled up to the rental counter.  Where we waited and waited for what seemed like forever as the helpful, chatty agents handed out cars to the people in line. We really wished they had a separate line for returns.

When Mickey finally got to the counter and mentioned having trouble finding signs directing us on where to return the car, the agent asked if she'd read the papers with the rental agreement. We hadn't. She gave us a gentle "you didn't listen to me when I rented you this car." A feisty Mickey held back the "you're right because we were so sleep-deprived we could barely think straight" retort that bubbled up.

The nice thing about flying business class was the short lines. The check in counter and security helped us get back on schedule. It was a bit of an adventure finding the lounge; they really try to keep the riff raff like us out, but we prevailed. Ian the 6’9” security guy withered when Auburn glared at him and gave him the knowing nod of tough guys everywhere. Although Mick thought she heard a soft whisper to him, “Don’t make me call your mother.” We arrived just as breakfast was ending and managed to find enough food and caffeine to stave off hunger until they'd feed us on the plane.

We cleared customs in Ireland before boarding, we had an uneventful flight back, plenty of food, a couple of hours of sleep, a snack when we awoke and before we knew it we were back in Chicago. We hopped in Auburn’s little silver jet and sped home to the cries of Mickey, “Right, Right!”

PS – In a sad footnote it appears Auburn’s little silver jet’s days have come to an end. The other Palermos are looking forward to meeting its replacement.

Footsteps of Steele - Monday

It’s amazing how much better we felt after a good night’s sleep – even on twin beds. We sampled the hotel restaurant for breakfast, delighting in the mix of languages as we dined Russian, Italian, French, and German all providing a soft harmonic backdrop for our plans for the day.

St. Patrick's Cathedral

It was a little cooler than the previous day but the sun was out so that was fine with us. In the spirit of inclusion, we actually got lost while walking our way to St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the national Cathedral of the Church of Ireland. It is said that St. Patrick baptized converts at a well that existed in the park adjacent to the church. A church has stood on the site since the 5th Century and the current building itself dates from 1220, something that’s just hard for us to comprehend. So many structures that we saw were several centuries older than when Columbus ever set foot in North America! Like many European churches, many graves/tombs are inside the church itself, so it only took one stumble to remind us to watch our steps, then stop and gaze up at the flying buttressed roof and sunlit stain glassed windows.

Dublin Castle

Our next stop was Dublin Castle. We stopped for a snack in the café that overlooked the park. The streaming sun and elevated balcony view made the gardens beautiful. The Castle was built on the site of a Viking fortress from the 930s and upgraded to a stone & wood structure when the Normans took over in the 1170s. Changes made on the orders of King John I of England in the early 1200s resulted in the basic layout we see today. There was a section under one of the round corner towers where the tour took us below ground and the remains of some of these earlier structures could be seen. Again, just hard for us to comprehend how old this place is!

Above ground the castle is in excellent shape and has been used in films including Barry Lyndon and Michael Collins as well as in the cable series The Tudors. One unusual thing about this tour was that we were allowed to take photos inside the castle. All the other castles we toured did not allow this, demonstrating their superior gift shop business marketing skills. The throne room held a massive throne that was specially installed for King George IV, a man over six feet tall who was said to be nearly six feet around as well. Years later when his granddaughter Queen Victoria visited the castle, a footstool had to be created to match the throne so that the petite monarch could sit in the chair. No doubt her feet would have dangled off even then!

Since Ireland has really only had its independence from British rule since 1921, it’s lovely to see all the efforts in to preserving all elements of their history. The economic decline in 2008 would have been a great reason to halt this effort, but work continues to restore and preserve across Ireland.

We’d seen as much as we could in just over 24 hours in Dublin so we headed back to the hotel, collected our luggage, and loaded up the car for our next destination. Or tried to because, you guessed it, we got lost again, even with the GPS. Part of our confusion centered on the fact that the street running alongside the river changes names every few blocks. Add to that the fact that if there are any street signs at all, they’re metal plates attached up high to buildings and it makes for a lot of missed turns. But finally we were on our way to Kilkenny.

Once again we lucked out with our planning in that a good portion of the drive to Kilkenny is on a Motorway, which is the equivalent of our interstate. It was actually easy to determine what type of road you were driving on. Motorways had designations like M1, M6, etc., typically 1-digit numbers. Nice multi-lane divided highways. The next step down was Regional roads. Regional roads were typically 2-digit numbers and started with an R (e.g. R25, R92, etc.). After that there were local roads with 3 digits, e.g. L229, L402, etc. We did see another designator for smaller roads but fortunately didn’t have to drive on any of them. One thing that is different on the motorways from our interstates is the lack of food and facilities right on the exits. When we reached a point where we were ready for lunch we got off at an exit whose signs showed a fork & knife off to the right and a cup of coffee off to the left. Assuming that the fork & knife promised a restaurant we headed right. And drove and drove and drove. Perhaps we were supposed to turn on a side road but we never saw a sign indicating that. When we got into sheep country we gave up and drove back the other way.

That led us into Kilcullen, a delightful little town with very little marked public parking (that we could find). We did find a spot near a school. Fortunately we parked before school let out because there were very few spots available when we returned. We tried a pub but they were more liquid than food, but the barman pointed us to a very nice café across the street with a wonderful owner named Carolyn who was a lot of fun to talk with. Tummies full we made our way back to the motorway and eventually to Kilkenny.

After checking into the first of our four B&Bs we drove the couple of miles to the city center in the typical Irish mist – a condition we’d grow very used to over the next week. We stopped in at one of the many bookies we found right on the main street and placed six bets on the Kilkenny Kid, all to win. The odds looked long, but we knew him to be a scrapper who didn’t disappoint.

Kilkenny Castle Exterior

As with all larger towns we found the old center, including Kilkenny Castle. We took the first 50 of our 100 photos of the castle itself, trying to get just the right light. She was a shy grand dame that only recently regained her luster through extensive restoration by the Office of Public Works. We stretched our legs, getting a feel for the layout of the town and then settled in at Matt the Millers restaurant for dinner and traditional Irish music. After a few good beverages, Auburn could have sworn the bartender and guitar player looked more and more like Pierce Brosnan after each glass was emptied. Dinner was more authentic Irish fare, full of warmth and love. We both had room for dessert so we left in search of matching handcuffs and convenient adjoining haylofts, pocket watches optional.

Kilkenny Castle Interior

Footsteps of Steele - Saturday/Sunday

This trip to Ireland was started a little over 30 years ago, set in the accented voice and cool blue eyes of one Remington Steele. How could teenage girls (well, one was still a teen in 1982) resist the pull of that dream? Resistance was futile. But the seed was planted, germinated slowly through the TV show, the internet, the series DVD release and of course jobs to earn the cash to get there.

The Palermo Sisters’ original discussion of a vacation to a South American country with favorable extraditions policies became complicated, thwarted by unseen forces of downsizing airline schedules, PTO restrictions and mysterious fate. The Sisters were downsized to twins. A quick call to an extradition specialist gave us several Palermo-friendly destinations, but the lure of “The Emerald Isle” won us over. The sinking euro value and deeply discounted upgrades may have helped.

Mickey flew into Chicago to meet up with Auburn, her early flight was uneventful and allowed for a lovely lunch. Being ever vigilant to new possibilities, we interviewed a potential new Palermo Cousin. She did well in the oral exam, but her written scores were a tad substandard. Auburn was given the assignment to enhance her area of specialization before we would reconsider.

Our overnight flight to Dublin was enlightening, enjoyable and spoiled us horribly. It started with champagne and orange juice in Waterford crystal and only got better. Our seduction into the luxurious service was highlighted when we thought the flight needed to be longer so we could sleep more.

The flight left us a tad groggy, with body clocks in rebellion. Regrettably, our upgrades only included an electronic chauffeur we nicknamed Nanny Perkins and automatic transmission, but we semi-successfully navigated the near-empty, damp morning streets of Dublin to our first hotel. The learning curve of driving from the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road was enhanced through the spontaneous shouts of “Left, Left!” by Mickey. The adrenaline did wonders to our wakefulness.

We made it to our hotel and asked where to park. The clerk pointed to the garage just caddy-corner from the hotel. Piece of cake, we thought. Ha! We assumed the garage entrance was on the main street with the hotel. Not so. It was, of course, on the cross-street. No problem, we thought. We’ll just go around the block and come in fromthe other side. Ha! One-way streets prevented a simple left. Then we were directed and strange angles appeared because of the proximity to the river. The dreary overcast sky confused our sense of direction completely. We found ourselves further and further afield and finally had to turn the GPS back on just to return to the hotel! No doubt the clerk wondered why it took us over 30 minutes to cross the street but she didn’t say a word. We locked up our luggage in storage (it was before 10 a.m. and the room wasn’t ready yet) and took off on foot for a bite to eat. We found a cafeteria-style buffet and enjoyed the first of many Irish Breakfasts.

We decided to begin our tour where all good Palermo stories usually end – in jail. Since we didn’t see any policemen to get our usual ride, we began walking in the lovely Irish mist. After a quick consultation with the map, we realized we’d be much better off to take the electric streetcar. We reached our stop for the first time and we ran into a situation that would be repeated many times over: there were no tourist signs or street signs to indicate which way we should go. But we have watched detective shows, so we started detecting. After checking a general sites map numerous times and keeping our eyes peeled for a large late-18th century structure, (because there are hardly any of those in Dublin) we finally found Kilmainham Gaol.

This structure has massively thick exterior walls, virtually no ventilation and would be freezing cold in the winter and unbearably stuffy in the summer. Men, women and children were all housed together. A cell of approximately 300 sq. ft. would house 5 prisoners; some children as young as age 5 were arrested for petty theft. Hangings occurred here until the early 1820s; it was a public event held just inside the jail’s gates where a crowd could gather outside and watch.


Site where leaders of the uprising were shot



This is the jail where the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising (when Irish Republicans rose up to oppose British rule) were held and later executed by a firing squad, including James Connolly whose could not stand due to a shattered ankle, so he was tied to a chair and shot!

We were able to escape the authorities’ notice and slip away back to the street car to our hotel where we were at last able to check into our very small room. Despite the strong tractor beam the beds emitted, we resisted the urge for a “short nap” knowing we’d sleep until 2 a.m. if we closed our eyes.

We’d noticed on the map that there was a section marked “Bachelor’s Walk” so naturally we went that way. Sadly the pickings were slim, so after Auburn “auditioned” several candidates, we moved on to the college campus!

The College of the Holy and Undivided Trinity of Queen Elizabeth near Dublin (a.k.a. Trinity College) was established in 1592 during Queen Elizabeth I’s reign. Our tour guide, Ross, was completely adorable and available for purchase. He had passed all his coursework and exams back in May but, as is tradition, wouldn’t receive his diploma until November. He was very knowledgeable about the campus and filled us in on how campus life there differed from colleges in the US, such as the fact that there was such limited on-campus housing that it was reserved for seniors and even then there was not room for all of them.


Parliament Square, Trinity College



The college’s library is a legal deposit library for Ireland and the UK, meaning they get a copy of each book published in Ireland, Northern Ireland, England, Wales or Scotland. There are over 4.5 million volumes in the library. There is a wonderful gallery called the Long Room (which looks just as it’s described) with shelves rising 20+ feet high. Books are not indexed via the Dewey decimal system but by the book’s physical size – which makes it a huge challenge to find the book you’re seeking!

The other main attraction in the library is the Book of Kells. These are the four gospels from the Bible (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) that were copied by monks circa 800 AD and are written on vellum. They are illuminated texts, meaning they are highly decorated with drawing illustrating the text. Only two books are ever displayed at a time; we saw portions of Matthew and Mark. Sadly no photos were allowed anywhere within the library.

Though it was early evening, after quasi-sleeping for about 3 hours on the plane we were wearing down quickly. We ended up eating at Foley’s, a traditional Irish pub run by a Chinese family! On the way back to the hotel we nipped into St. Stephen’s Green, a 22-acre park in the heart of the city, which would be a great place to relax if we hadn’t been so tired. When we arrived back room with only twin beds we barely kept our eyes open long enough to turn out the lights before we fell asleep. It was a magnificent start to a long-needed vacation.