Alpine Summer

Luckily, and despite getting a really good deal on the airfare, our flight to Dublin was scheduled to leave in the afternoon. Leaving the Karlsruhe-Baden Airpark at 4:15 made me pretty comfortable. Even arriving three hours early (( which I was informed by the airline to do )) got us there at least an hour and a half too early to check in. A few days ago, Dr. Noll helped me out by printing off a train and bus schedule to get us to the Airpark; it was in German, but it had the numbers and times and that was the most important part.

The train rides to the airpark were pretty uneventful. We arrived in Baden-Baden on time and then had to figure out the whole bus thing. Dr. Johnson told us that our Eurail would most likely work for the bus trip because it was found on the Deutsche Bahn website, but we weren't so sure because the "total" ticket price mentioned "DB Part" . . . which might or might not mean "Everything but the bus". We found the bus stop pretty easily once we walked outside the bahnhof. We also found out that we had missed the previous bus by less than 10 minutes, and the next one was 45 minutes later.

An interesting note about the Baden-Baden Bahnhof -- one WC. Big sign on the door "DEFEKT". Awesome.

When the bus finally pulls up, after what seems like hours of waiting, the driver didn't open the front door but only the back. Therefore, we didn't get to ask about our Eurail or anything, but we also didn't have to pay anything. The bus made about 35 stops on the way to the airpark. All the people that had once crowded the bus left the two of us on our route. After we had seen huge pirate statues and the bus went slalom into an apartment complex, we realized we didn't know where we were. And the worst part is, you don't talk to the driver unless the bus is stopped and there was no one to ask about where we were. Finally, we see something that looks like a main entrance to Flughafen Karlsruhe-Baden, so I press the little "Please Stop Mr. Driver-Man" button. As we roll past. We also pass another stop with a building labeled "Airpark Eisstadion". No pulling over. After another 5 minutes, we see a glorious sign mentioning terminals. I guess the guy realized we didn't know where we were going but that we were trying to get to the airport so he just took us there.

















Ryan Air, the airline we had selected for travel, informed me that we should arrive 3 hours early for all international flights. We got there about at the correct time, however, could not find the check-in for our flight anywhere. I went to the information desk, and had to drag information out of the information desk lady about our check-in. Which did not begin until 2:45, an hour and a half after our arrival and an hour and a half before our flight. So we sat around for a while. We checked in without any problem, grabbed some snacks (( which were horrible )), and headed to our gate. We went through "PASSPORT CONTROLLING", where an officer looked at me, looked at my passport and boarding pass, looked at me, and stamped me for departure. However, the officer that checked Luke's asked all sorts of questions about why he didn't have a stamp entering Germany and where he was going and how long he was going to be gone and how long he was going to be in Germany when he returned. Eventually, Luke got his stamp and we headed to the gate.

At the gate, we realized that we were going to be traveling with some of the most annoying teenagers on the planet. They were Irish and insisted on singing and stomping and whistling and kazooing (( oh yes, they had kazoos )) about going home. Gradually the announcements came pouring in: "Plane delayed at Dublin Airport", "Flight delayed until further notice", "Flight rescheduled for 18:35". So, another 2+ hours with the annoying kids.

In the end, the plane boarded with little problem. We had to get on a bus to take us to the plane. During this step, a few attendants realized that some people for the next flight leaving from that gate were already trying to board, thinking it was their turn. It wasn't a big deal, only they didn't speak German or English, so the attendants had to explain through pointing. We were lucky enough to get on the first bus heading to the plane, so we got good seats near the middle of the plane and just near, but not on, the wings.






















We expected we would do as before to find our hostel -- get a map and spend a few minutes located the area and street. However, the maps in the airport information center were all elaborate, extremely different, and expensive. So we approach the desk with the address in Dun Laoghaire and ask for some help. The guy gives us a free map, some brochures, and tells us what bus we can take down to Dun Laoghaire. We thank him, find the bus stop, and realize that the bus only comes in one-and-a-half hour intervals. And, given our luck with such things, we just missed it. So we sit down and wait it out. Luke finds a place to buy our tickets and there is no hassle when the bus comes.

We sit on the top of the double decker bus to have a good view. That good view includes many famous buildings and statues, but also an alarming fact: the bus has no announcements or banners to inform passengers of the stops, and the stops themselves have no signs to indicate what they are. A little while of mild freaking out led to a realization: THEY SPEAK ENGLISH HERE. So, with no hesitation, I asked the guy in the row beside us if he knew when to get off if we were staying in Dun Laoghaire. He said he didn't even know if this bus went there, but if it did, don't expect to be getting off any time soon. I thanked him and, before he got off at his stop, he said "After you cross the river, wait about 20 to 30 minutes before you even start looking for it." Great.

A few stops later, a woman sits in the same seat, and I ask her for advice as well. She is a little more helpful. She explains the order of the little provinces of town and that we'll probably go down a long road and see nothing for a while, and then we'll see the coast and then some signs for Stillorgan and Dun Laoghaire would be next. She was right. But, because it was getting dark and we still weren't entirely comfortable, Luke asked the bus driver when we came to a stop. The answer wasn't very helpful, so we just got off and crossed our fingers . . . and magically were on the same street as the hostel.

















We buzzed the door and explained that our plane was delayed by hours and then the bus trip was forever-long so we were much later than anticipated. New Zealander Phil, the hostel owner, asked us if we knew why our plane was delayed. He said that it was because there was a bomb threat. This one seemed to have been a copy-cat, he informed us, a hoax based off of a real threat from about 3 days before.

We spent the rest of the evening settling in, eating bad Chinese food (( the take-away place was the only thing open by that point )), and trying to plan something for tomorrow.