A Norwegian couple searched for Westlife, but found bad roads and dirt, writes Rosita Boland in the continuing tourism series.

Before

There is a constant flurry of people coming and going, hauling bags and consulting road-maps, outside the Hertz-Rent-a-Car office in Upper Leeson Street. This is one of Dublin's starting points for tourists heading out of town.

Norwegian couple, Line Staurset (25) and Nils Allergodt (27), are remarkably lively for a pair who've just flown in that morning from Oslo, via Copenhagen. They are completing paperwork for their rental car, which was part of their flight deal. It's Allergodt's first time in Ireland: Staurset spent a work-related weekend in Dublin last year. They've come here for a week because Staurset wanted to see more of Ireland.

"I have seen pictures of Ireland; it looks very amazing," Allergodt says. They are both expecting to see lots of good scenery. Then he adds, "Also, there is the beer. I want to go to Kilkenny, because that is where they make the beer."

"I'd like to see more of the nature," Staurset says. "And I like horses, so Ireland is perfect for me. We're hoping to go to the races somewhere."

They haven't pre-booked any accommodation, but they know where they want to go first - Sligo. That very day. Why Sligo? Yeats country? The scenery? Relatives? We're having coffee in Java's, just across the road from Hertz. Allergodt looks as if he wants to crawl under the table we're sitting at and stay there for the entire week. There is a look of something resembling physical pain on his face. I have a feeling there is something he doesn't want me to know.

"We go to Sligo because of Westlife! We go today! I love their music!" Staurset announces joyfully. She is not daunted at hearing the band don't live there any more. "I will see the place where they grew up! I just want to tell everyone at home I've been there." Is there perhaps an opening for Sligo Tourism in Westlife's boyhood homes, à la Liverpool's most famous sons?

After

Six days later, the Norwegians are back in Dublin, holed up in a Temple Bar café. Dublin, they report, is much, much more expensive than everywhere else; their B & B is costing €45 each here. "And there is much litter here," they agree.

So how did their time out of Dublin go? Staurset is happy because she went to a record shop in Sligo town and had her Westlife moments by proxy. "Oh yes, that was good," she giggles.

Their ad-hoc route was Sligo, Galway, Nenagh, Kilkenny and back to Dublin. Allergodt did all the driving. How did he find it? The Norwegians are trying very hard to be polite, but Allergodt's incredulity wins out.

"I think the Irish people drive like crazy," he says flatly. "Too fast. All the time too fast on these small roads. All the time, I have to pull over and stop and let them past. Otherwise . . ." and he trails off and makes gestures of crashing. Staurset shivers at the memory.

Irish country roads made a poor impression on both of them. "You don't have any place to walk on countryside roads here," Staurset. "There is nowhere for people to walk safely, they must walk on the road. In Norway, it is not like this."

Apart from our driving, Allergodt was also taken aback by poor, or absence of, signposting. "And there are very few petrol stations in the countryside," Staurset says. "We were always worrying that the petrol would last until the next place."

On the plus side, they both thought the Irish were friendly and helpful. Allergodt got to hear traditional music, and says his highlight was the west-coast scenery. For Staurset (apart from the record shop in Sligo), it was the boat-trip they took at Doolin. "But I thought there would be lots of horses," she says. "Horses everywhere, because Ireland is famous for horses. There were sheep and cows, but not many horses, and we didn't find any races."

They wanted to go to the Aran Islands, but the rain and fog put them off. They were amazed to hear they'd been in Galway for two days during the first week of Ireland's biggest arts festival. "We saw a few posters, but we didn't see anything that looked like festival," Staurset reports. They are adamant they never saw any street theatre or visual art installations, or any evidence of festival activity, which is remarkable.

Allergodt got to drink Kilkenny beer in Kilkenny. "I called a friend in Norway and told them I was drinking Kilkenny beer in Kilkenny," he recounts. "In Norway, Kilkenny beer is much more famous than Guinness."

They didn't like Kilkenny much. Allergodt was surprised it was so big. "I was surprised by all the tourists there," Staurset says, several times. "It was full of Italian and Spanish kids. I would have liked to hear the Irish accent instead. I didn't like all the tourists there. And all the dogs! In Kilkenny, the dogs walk themselves. In Norway, dogs cannot go out without leashes."

They stayed in B & Bs all the way; just turning up on spec, paying between €25 and €45 each a night. In Norway, there are no B & Bs; accommodation options are expensive hotels and campsites, so the B & B was a cheap novelty for them. Did they think they got value for money? "They were OK. Nothing special. Sometimes they were very noisy - traffic, the phone ringing, the doorbell. We always were woken up by noise," Staurset says.

Were some of them nicer than others? They look at each other. It's that struggling to be polite look again.

"Well, in Galway, it was raining through the roof of our bedroom," Staurset says apologetically. They woke in the middle of the night to find water dripping down on them in bed. They didn't want to wake anyone up, so "we just slept on the bit that wasn't being rained on". The next morning, they told the B&B owner, and showed her the leak. She apologised - and still charged them the full rate. Every cent. And did not offer them a second night free.

In six days, they spent 8,000 Norwegian kroner (€1,000) on accommodation, meals, and living expenses, and still had to buy presents and souvenirs. Flights and car-hire were separate. Ireland is almost as expensive as Norway, they agree. "The petrol is a little bit cheaper," Allergodt says, still anxious to give the sort of answers he think we might like to hear.