Saturday, 20th of December
Dublin Airport, Ireland

It was 6:20 a.m. as Rollie and Angie exited their plane. They had been lucky and got a direct flight with Ireland’s native airline “Air Lingus,” so they hadn’t had to bother with changing planes. Angie looked around at the airport. It was still dark outside, and because of the early hour there weren’t too many people at the airport.

The flight had been uneventful. They had watched the in-flight movie, a little romantic comedy called “The Matchmaker,” featuring a Bostonian woman getting to a small village in Ireland when the annual “Matchmaking Festival” was in full swing. The movie had been good to get in the mood for their short vacation/business trip.

Rollie stretched as he exited the plane. The engineers of airplanes hadn’t had persons with his length in mind when building their aircrafts, so whenever he had to fly for a longer period of time he wished he was several inches shorter. Well, he felt like he was right now.

The two effects artists followed the signs through the maze of corridors to the baggage claim. After some time, the bags eventually arrived, and they headed in the direction of the exit. Angie cast a glance at the “Lost Luggage” desk. She always hoped she’d never ever have to go there.

They headed towards the car rental desk and got their contract. They were told to get a shuttle bus from the rental firm that would bring them to their car.

Rollie and Angie left the airport building and stood outside. The air was not warm, but was well above freezing.

“Ah, this is a temperature to live with!“ commented Rollie.

Angie just smiled, since she had anticipated this or a similar comment ever since she read about the climate in Ireland. And the Aussie’s complaints about the harsh New York winters were very familiar with her.

A cheerful elder Irishmen greeted them as they approached the shuttle bus and took care of their baggage. Then they got into the bus. At first, Angie was irritated as the driver took the right seat but mentally shook her head. ‘You *know* that they drive on the other side here,’ she told herself.

The ride went for some minutes before they arrived at the car park. A hulk of a man with broad Irish brogue greeted them and showed them their car, a green Renault. Angie smiled slightly at the accent; it had a melodious note in it.

By tacit understanding Rollie took the driver’s side. Angie was not afraid to drive the car on the “wrong” side, but Rollie was used to it since he had driven a car in Australia before. They would take turns in driving and Angie was curious how driving would be. It should suit her, since she was left-handed and would be changing gears with her left hand.

After they filled the car up they headed to the north. Kim had given them the address of a nice little B&B she had stayed in before, just about a mile away from the visitor centre of Newgrange. They had called beforehand to make sure the landlady would be there since it was not peak season for tourists.

“So, up we head toward Drogheda,” Rollie exclaimed.

Angie sat in the passenger seat with a street map to give him directions. She felt a bit awkward, sitting in the place that normally would be the driver’s seat but without the wheel. ‘Well, I guess I will get used to it soon’, she thought.

They went onto a short strip of motorway that yielded into a national route. Due to the early morning hour and the fact that it was Saturday there was almost no traffic on the streets, a circumstance Rollie was not to sad about since he had yet to get the feeling of driving on the left side again.

Angie put a tape into the tape recorder. In order to “get into the mood,” she recorded some Irish music to play. Some were old Irish Folk songs, some Irish poems with Irish music. She liked one song best, a Romeo and Juliet kind of ballad called “Annachie Gordon.” It was after an old sad story, and the singer and songwriter (a Canadian, but apparently with Irish ancestors) had written the tune for the poem. Angie smiled as she thought of something.

“Why are you smiling?” Rollie asked, who had seen the smile that crossed Angie’s face.

“Oh, I just wondered why almost every Irish song I heard is about love, rather unrequited love, lost love or a love that is forbidden by parents or regulations,” Angie answered.

“Isn’t that the most common topic?” Rollie joked. “But when you look at music in common a big percentage is about that very theme. And I won’t even talk about operas.”

“You’re right. I don’t know why I noticed it here particularly. Perhaps it is the music that fit the words so perfectly, I don’t know,” Angie shrugged.

“Or is it because you experience those very feelings of unrequited love?” Rollie asked her jokingly.

“Yeah, sure,” Angie replied, casting a quick glance toward Rollie.

As they listened to the sometimes lively and sometimes melancholic tunes, Angie and Rollie started to relax. The last months had been busy. First they had worked on three movies back to back with just a few days in between. And just two weeks ago they had helped Mira and Francis catch an assassin who attempted to shoot Chinese minister Zhou. But now, here in Ireland, everything was far away.

As they drove toward Drogheda, the sky grew brighter and they were able to see more of the countryside. Everything was green, with a lot of grass and trees. The trees had lost their leaves, though, and Angie wondered how it must be in autumn when the leaves turn yellow and red.

The horizon was shrouded in a red glow, and fog wavered through the fields. The fields were not big and flat but small and sometimes hilly and surrounded with stonewalls. But even though it had taken a lot of stones to build the walls, there were enough stones left in and outside the fields.

After about half an hour they reached Drogheda and drove through the town and took the road towards Newgrange. After a few minutes they reached the village Donore, where they would stay. ‘Village’ was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but there was a pub and a church, vital buildings for a community.

Rollie turned left into a driveway of a house with a neat garden. The special effects artists exited the car, both stretching their limbs. They walked toward the door and rang the bell. An elderly woman with grey hair and a friendly smile opened the door.

“Good morning, you must be Angie Ramirez from New York,” the women said to Angie, as she had called and reserved their room. “Welcome to Ireland. I am Paula English ….”

“… And I am Rollie Tyler, a friend and colleague of Angie’s,” Rollie said and shook the woman’s outstretched hand.

“Please come in, I will show you to your rooms so you can bring your luggage in. You must be tired after that long flight,” Mrs. English said sympathetically.

“Thank you, Mrs. English. We were able sleep a little during the flight, but we will take a nap right now,” Angie replied.

“Please call me Paula, Dear. If you want some tea, there is a kettle and teabags in your room. Just come to me for milk, though.”

“Thanks a lot, Paula,” Rollie said with a smile.

They had reached a room at the end of a corridor. Paula opened the door to the right and led them to a bright room with windows to the back of the house. There were twin beds in the room, covered with blue bedspreads.

“There you go, my dear. Twin beds as you requested.”

“This room is lovely, Paula,” Angie told the woman. She and Rollie had agreed to share one room with twin beds, since it would be more trouble if they had different rooms. After all, they had slept in one room before when they’ve been on location where sleeping place was limited.

“What are you going to do today? Visit Newgrange I imagine?” Paula asked them.

“Yes indeed, we will visit Newgrange later today to get a first impression. But we also have a place for the special show tomorrow morning,” Rollie told their landlady.

“Oh really? Then you must’ve planned the trip a long time ago!” Paula replied.

“No, we actually planned the trip two weeks ago,” Rollie told their astonished host. “We are part of a film crew that’s going to shoot a movie about Newgrange and the people who built it. And since we are going to create the special effects for the movie – and especially the scene when the sunlight lights the tomb, we wanted to see it ourselves,” Rollie explained to her.

“Oh, I see. This is really nice, a movie about Newgrange, or Brú na Bóinne I should say,” Paula answered, using the tomb’s old name. “Is the filming taking place here as well?”

“No, it will take place at Ardmore Studios in Bray,” Angie told her. Paula nodded as she heard the name. Ardmore Studios was the biggest film studio in Ireland, and a lot of movies – foreign as well as Irish – were shot there nowadays.

“We couldn’t use the monument for the shooting, since there are too many tourist there. And it would be too small for the cameras to fit in. Not to mention the damage that could occur. It will be better for everyone when we rebuild the monument at the studio,” Rollie added.

“So, you can bring your luggage in now. I will be in the kitchen. Please tell me if you need anything,” Paula said to the two young people, who thanked her with a smile.

“Thank you again, Paula. We will be fine for the next few hours while we get some sleep,” Angie said.

She and Rollie went to the car and brought their bags in. Both then fell onto their respective beds.

“Ah, this is good,” Angie murmured.

“You said it. But I think you want to take off your shoes before you sink into Morpheus’ arms,” Rollie told his partner.

“In whose arms? Oh, Morpheus. Yeah, I will take the shoes off and change as well,” Angie said with a yawn and went off into the enclosed bathroom.

Rollie rummaged in his bag for the alarm clock. The plan was that they’d take a nap and then head over to the visitor centre for a tour and the exhibition there.

Angie exited the bathroom in her pyjamas. “It’s all yours,” she told Rollie.

“Thanks. I set the alarm clock. Sleep tight, sweetie.”

“You too, Rol.”