Kinsale is a gorgeous, seaside town on Ireland's southern coast. It is also one of the "foodie" capitols of Ireland. My dear friend Reena led me to want to go to Kinsale - she said it was always her first night stop out of Dublin and it was doable in about four hours.
I guess she didn't do the drive in the winter, when it got dark sooner or in the rain. It was a nerve-wracking experience. Here the drive was the absolute worst. It was dark, it was raining and the roads were narrow with serious bends and the speed limit was 100 kmph and I had drivers bearing down on my back, with no place to pull off/over. I was a wreck.
We didn't have a place to stay on this night, as I couldn't get anyone to respond to email, so as we were winding our way through the very narrow streets, I saw a B and B with the shamrock sign (where our pre-paid vouchers were good) and a woman standing at the door. Bick said he would go ask her if she was open/had room and so he popped out. He came back to the car saying that her B and B was closed, but her friend Mary, back up at the top of the hill, was open, our vouchers were accepted, and she had room for us. We continued to drive further into the beautiful, medievel city center and finally stopped the car beside a pretty non-descript little pub. As we got out of the car, Bick said to me:
"I don't care what it costs to stay down here, I don't have big enough balls enough to make that trip back up to the top of the hill. Roxie, I think I may have crimped a crease in the passenger seat and I hope we don't have to pay rental car damages".
So we wandered into the pub for a pint and a lady's glass of cider. Serendipity soon intervened.