Today was another day that we needed to start early. Our ferry to France sails from Rosslare Harbour at 4:00pm, and the only bus that can get us there on time leaves at 8:50am.

We got up early, packed up, slammed down our breakfast, and signed a credit card slip to pay for our room on our way out the door.

The sandwiches that we prepared last night were left forgotten in the fridge. Hopefully, our hosts will enjoy them.

We didn’t have much Irish cash left, and we wanted to avoid making another stop at an Irish money machine when we’re on our way out of the country. So our plan was to use our credit card to buy our bus tickets for Rosslare at the ticket office; and to save our cash for food and such along the way.

When we stopped at the ticket office yesterday, they wouldn’t let us buy tickets for today. But today, the ticket office is closed. So there we stood as we rushed to the door of the bus on Sunday morning, with not enough cash to pay our fare, and no way to pay by credit card.

After explaining our situation to the station manager, he said he’d have a chat with the driver, and then told us we could buy our tickets at the ticket office in Cork.

When we got to Cork (a much more picturesque city than we expected, we’ll have to come back and spend some time there), Obbie got in line to pay for tickets and worried that there were no credit card stickers in the office window. Another driver came up to him and said “don’t worry about it, get on the bus.”

After six hours and five different drivers, no one had pressed us to pay for our tickets.

After having dealt with grouchy and curmudgeonly bus drivers in America, we found the drivers for Bus Eireann to be absolute saints. They knew the difference between someone looking to take advantage of their magnanimity, and someone who was genuinely willing and able to pay but having difficulty doing so.

Sometimes their generosity arose from the need to maintain the schedule. For example, at one point a little old lady got on the bus to ride to the next stop. Rather than wait for her to fumble through her purse for the small bit of change she needed, the driver let her get on the bus for nothing so he could keep the bus moving.

And the two shaggy purple Americans in the front seat were passed from driver to driver, each one letting them slide. An American driver would have directed them to the nearest cash machine, and then left without them when they didn’t make it back on time.

We should also mention that Irish buses are not equipped with on-board toilets as American buses are, and the kindness of the drivers also extended to accommodating bathroom breaks.

At a bit past 3:30, we were deposited at the front door of the ferry terminal. At the door we found the last green Irish mailboxes we were going to see for a while, so RoZ quickly finished writing a postcard to use up our last Irish stamp.

Obbie went to the ticket counter to settle up for two foot passenger fares with a Europass discount, and the night’s rent on a cheap cabin in the bowels of the ship. It all came to 72 punts, or roughly $85.

Irish Ferry to Cherbourg

We waited in the upper level of the ferry terminal and watched cars and trucks being loaded. We looked out at a long enclosed tube snaking out toward the far side of the ship, which would be our walkway.

We got our boarding call at 4:30pm, showed our passports to a security officer at the entrance to the walkway, and embarked on the long march to the boat with our packs rolling on a trolley in front of us. As we lifted our packs off the trolley and stepped on board we were greeted by some members of the crew.

In his brief exposure to Navy life, Obbie was taught that this is the part where you snap to attention, salute, and sound off, “permission to come aboard, sir!”

But these crew members were not here to exercise boarding protocol, they were here to upgrade our cabins. This sailing had so few passengers (216 people on a boat designed for 1600) that it wasn’t worth it for them to have people scattered around in the cheap rooms in the bow on deck 2. So they gave us a room with our own bathroom on deck 6.

The cabin measured about 4×6, with bunk beds occupying half the space. A tiny bathroom extended another 3 feet off one end. There were no windows, and barely enough room to get around each other to get through the bathroom door. The cabin was not a place to hang out. It was a reasonably comfortable place to sleep, and a place to keep our stuff.

After locking our stuff in our cabin, we went out to explore the ship.

Most of the interesting stuff happened on decks 7, 8 and 10. Deck 10 was where you go to sit outside. Most of that deck was open, with lots of benches and wind screens in appropriate places.

Deck 9 was mostly reserved for the crew, but there was a walkway around the perimeter of the ship. This was also where the life boats and other emergency equipment were kept, which we made careful note of, having seen the movie “Titanic.”

Most of the facilities and amenities were on decks 7 and 8. There was a coffee shop, gift shop, cafeteria (they call it a buffet), and a foo-foo sit-down restaurant. There was a large pub/lounge/disco at the stern on deck 7, where we nursed our last pint of this visit to Ireland.

Fortunately, the sea was relatively calm for this voyage. The little white paper bags scattered around the ship were never needed.

It was funny when we sat down for our buffet meal tonight… the place mats on our table were inscribed with the words “Bon appetite!” even though the barf bags were conveniently placed right beside them.

Sleeping on bunk beds felt like being kids again, as the ship gently rocked us to sleep.