Travel Go west to Galway
What does the g in the g hotel and spa stand for? Maybe it’s for gateway to another world? Donal O’Donoghue steps through the looking glass in Galway
In a retail park on the eastern edge of Galway, there is an underground car park to another world. Follow the pink g signs to the lift and you are whisked up to a hotel as imagined by Tim Burton. This is the g hotel and spa, a place of pink chairs and velvet furnishings, designed by one of the world’s most famous milliner, Philip Treacy, from nearby Ahascragh. On the day we visited, the Tom Dixon mirrored balloon lights hung overhead like the promise of a party and Irish rugby star, Bundee Aki, worked the luggage trolley. Well not really, turns out the Ireland squad were training down the road and using the five-star g as a base. It was also the week of the Film Fleadh in a city that doesn’t need an excuse to boogie: time to paint the town pink! We stayed at the g with our 15 month-old in a room big enough to wear him out. Top of the things he loved in that king-sized space was the TV remote control, manically pressing buttons to give us 50 channels in as many
seconds. Fortunately, he is, as yet, unable to order room service or raid the mini-bar. Other things he loved included the super swanky double shower, until he trapped himself behind the glass doors, and the bidet, until he nearly drowned himself. Downstairs he seemed bemused by the kitschy design but broke the land-speed record for crawling along pink carpet to the restaurant.
The following morning on Quay Street I met a large leprechaun with a hangover (least that’s what it said on his sandwich board). Indeed the whole of the Latin Quarter looked like it had weathered a wild night but the tourists were already up and about and the local hostelries were open for business. By St Nicholas’ Church, the crowds nosed through the Saturday market and a short schlep away on High Street, a whiskery busker was strumming out country and western woes. Keeping him company was a terrier with a mouthful of Frisbee. “My friend here doesn’t want your money,” said the gravel-voiced musician who was clearly not of a similar disposition. Money makes this world go round and in the giddy month of July, the tills of the Tribes were alive with the sound of moolah.
Back at the g hotel and spa I was learning that it is the latter where this hotel really earns its spurs. I was booked in for a massage and it was hellishly good. Two weeks ahead of climbing Mt Elbrus in Russia there were a few knots to be ironed out and after 55 minutes of kneading and teasing with stone, hand and elbow, I felt like a new man (or at least a different shaped one). Afterwards, I crashed out in the relaxation room before venturing downstairs to the Thermal Suite where I was pummelled by jets of water in the hydro pool (much more enjoyable than it sounds) and cooled by the arctic spray of the rainbow shower (which explains a wild yelp heard earlier!). So relaxing was this postmassage moment that I fell asleep and didn’t get to check out the rock sauna, the ice fountain or the crystal steam room.
Later that afternoon we decided Salthill was the place to be. Unfortunately, what looked like one million other people had the same brilliant idea. The promenade buzzed with walkers and a few brazen cyclists as the neon casinos blinked in the sunshine. Back at the g we hired a babysitter with the hotel’s help, but Little Lord Fauntleroy refused to stick to the script. Five minutes before we were supposed to be sitting down to dinner he finally crashed. And we crept like ninjas out the door, squeezing past the cot as the babysitter slipped in past us. It was like The Great Escape (tinged with sliver of guilt) but it did remind us that the g really is a romantic breakaway place for couples rather than a refuge for a family with a hyperactive baby.
The evening we dined at Ard Bia at Nimmos where through a narrow window we watched the throngs soaking up the sun at Spanish Arch. In that moment, summer seemed forever. Later, we ambled back to the hotel via Eyre Square and College Road where every second house seemed to be a B&B: a 20-minute stroll from the city centre but a million miles away. At the g, the wee man was still sleeping soundly as we edged crabwise into the room past his snoring cot.
The following morning, buoyed by a hearty breakfast, we descended into the car park, out of the wonderland and into the light, for the journey back to Dublin and reality. But forever more there is a part of summer 2019 that will be pink.
The g hotel and spa ( theghotel.ie) has a special midweek Gourmet Getaway package of 2 nights accommodation in a luxury superior room with breakfast each morning and dinner in the award winning Restaurant GiGi’s on an evening of your choice. From €460 per room. theghotel.ie