This weekend was the Irish adventure.
Our flight was at 6:25 am, so we caught the latest bus to London the night before and slept in the airport. I was uncomfortable about sleeping there at first. I always feel intimidated by airport authorities, fearing that any wrong move will get me deported back to Hoosierville. It is an unfounded fear fueled by the terrorist obsessed media and my anxieties about traveling. But sleeping in the airport seems to be, well, a thing. A thing that people do, large numbers, I wouldn’t say droves, but enough to maybe call it a community. Walking to our gate at 4:30 in the morning, I could see the transition between our amateurish attempts (sweaters and coats as blankets) to the professionals, who clearly have a system. Some port-sleepers even bring their own inflatable sleeping mat, which is way genius, considering the frigidity of the tile floors, and the hardness that is sure to cause bruises from tossing and turning (my arms suffered a few injuries). The sleeping was not, well… good, but it wasn’t terrible either. I sleep much better on coaches and planes. Especially planes, the change in elevation knocks me out about 2 minutes after take-off. We boarded our plane at 6:25, no problems with security or boarding, straight on, no problems. We even arrived on the isle 15 minutes ahead of schedule. (This is actually a trick the airlines like to play on their customers to make us think that they are uber-efficient. They figure an extra 20 minutes in flight time so when they arrive before the scheduled time, it seems like they have outperformed themselves, when really – they flight took just as long as it should have, or even longer sometimes. ) We went to the tourist information office straight off and picked up 2 bus passes, a great asset in Dublin, especially if you are staying outside of city centre, which I recommend. Off the bus, we were STARVING. So hungry I could feel the muscles of my stomach seizing in preparation for a long haul. So we wandered dreamily down the street in search of some serious munch, Dan was looking forward to a good “fry-up.” Luckily we found it right away in a cafeteria- style joint called kylemore. About €7.50 for eggs, beans, hash browns, sausage, bacon, toast, and tea or coffee. Beautiful stuff. And despite the cafeteria- style (which I later found to be a common thing in Dublin) – it was not tourist central. There were clearly locals who had been meeting there for some time. The people were happy and talkative, looking around intensely, always searching for a friendly face. And this is how I would describe the Irish overall. For instance, while Dan was walking to the table with his tray and bag, he decided that the most efficient way to handle the heavy load would be to carry the tray and kick his bag across the floor to the table. En route, a tall, broad- shouldered, beak-nosed security gaurd approached him. In England, the man surely would have scolded him for childish behaviour, or kicked him out for disturbing some kind of unspoken code, or just caned him for being such a lout. But this beastly man simply picked up the bag, patted Dan on the shoulder and said, “Got quite a load there mate,” and carried the bag over to the table. I was amazed, and felt so welcome.
In the center of Dublin there is a huge, and I mean HUGE knitting needle. At 
nearly 400 ft. tall, ‘the Spire’ or ‘Monument of Light’ is a mystery to locals (our tour guide posited that some one in Australia had driven an enormous stake through the Earth, and the Spire was the end sticking out). It was a great way of orienting ourselves though. Smack in the center of O’Connell St. we could reorient ourselves with a simple glance at the great silver protrusion. This, though, at 8 in the morning after a terrible night’s sleep, was enough to make a weary travel think they were hallucinating. But luckily I was not alone in this.
We started walking in the direction of our hostel. We stopped at a corner to check the map. Suddenly a nice old man stopped and asked if he could help us. No prompting from us whatsoever! We showed him where we wanted to go. I said the name outloud (Iona) – he politely corrected me and said that we wouldn’t want to walk ( as we had planned) that it would take a solid 45 minutes. He suggested that we take the number 19 bus instead, that we would arrive in about 10 minutes that way. We thanked him profusely and he went about his day, strolling down a side-street with his arms clasped behind his back. Just another example of the Irish charisma. We caught the bus, made it to our hostel and slept for about 2 hours.
Back into the city center, we began to walk with renewed energy and cleared minds. Walked down O’Connell, into Trinity College (one of the oldest in the world). At this point we quite accidentally joined a tourist group. We followed them for a bit before getting completely annoyed with their dragging pace. We walked around Trinity. A beautiful college ground. The green courts were marvelous, with clusters of students lining the freshly cut grass.
Following the green theme, we continued onto Stephen’s Green, the first and largest green space in Dublin City Proper. Here we encountered a curious (and gigantic) swan who was swimming close to the edge of the pond nibbling at bits of thrown bread. The park was beautiful, tulips, green, fountains, and happy strolling people. We walked the length before emerging on the back end of the other side.
We continued to walk until we found a shopping mall. A bit peckish, we found an ice-cream stand where I got Raspberry Swirl with “sugar strands” (or really sugary sprinkles) and a hat for €5. We continued our stroll, discovering that Dublin is a huge fan of the American-diner-styled Eddie Rocket’s – we saw at least 6 during our stay. We tried to get some root beer (Dan has yet to indulge), but had no luck.
We found the Dublin Castle – which was… disappointing, really. I mean, maybe I’m spoiled, it is an old castle, but after Edinburgh, I think I have to be courted before I am really impressed by a castle.
I had planned out a little tourist route at some point that ended at the Guinness Storehouse (a must-see in Dublin that I will get to later). So next on our list was St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It was cool to stand on the ground of the Saint that pretty much everyone in the world celebrates for no reason. We sat on a bench for awhile, admiring the serenity of the grounds around the cathedral.
The last picture might seem unrelated, but it was posted just outside the cathedral. This was not the only pet cemetary I encountered, just keep reading and I’ll tell you about the other one.
We left St. Patrick’s with a clear route to the Guinness Storehouse, and immediately got lost. We ended up in a discount district, I would call it “shady” but I won’t because it was just a little grimy, and not even a tinge of danger. We walked, trying to prove that we knew a place we had never been too, but then it started to rain so we asked some nice officers (who are called Guards of the Peace) and they directed us to the Storehouse.
The Guinness Storehouse holds the history of the company and the famous beer. After a brief introduction from an awkwardly-not-funny announcer, we started our self-guided tour through the beer making process (barley, hops, water, fermentation…), the history of Arthur Guinness and his family, Guinness advertising since the 1960′s, and the best part – a taste-testing session, and finally our complimentary pint of the freshest Guinness in the world! I won’t go into detail about all the things I learned, I took enough pictures. But I will say, that I am now a lover of Guinness. Before it seemed bitter and pointless. But after learning how to accurately drink the strong brew, I have fallen in love with the creamy, bitter, hoppy combination. We enjoyed our pints in the highest point of Dublin – The Guinness Storehouse Gravity Bar- which provided a 360• panorama of the city proper. Good pint, great sites.
Then we walked in the rain, caught a bus and returned to our hotel exhausted and starving. The rest will be continued in part 2, Dublin and the Outside.
Mostly right.
