Dublin.tripz



Steve and Elaine, the IES AD



Had I not been so exhausted I probably would have been sick upon landing in Ireland.  It was only from sheer tiredness that I couldn’t lean forward and grab the little white bag in front of me and just let go.  Well, tiredness and the ten million thoughts of plane wreckage and dying too young that paralyzed me in my seat.  It was, in a word, bumpy.  No thanks, Aer Lingus, no thanks.



a flower by Christ Cathedral



The morning of Friday October 1^st came far too quickly for my tastes.  I had been in bed since around 10pm, but had failed to fall asleep until nearly 3am.  A combination of nerves and habit was quite disruptive to my foreseen night of beautiful sleep.  Hopped in the shower at 4:30am and left from South Kensington for the Airport at around 6am.  Oofta; that was a morning for the books.  I was deliriously silly with sleep.  Luckily, I hadn’t finished my book and I had some time to knock out some pages before going through three separate checkpoints at the airport. 

Now, to the plane.  Of course I was in the very last row of the air-o-plane, is anyone surprised?  It never fails that Josh Plattner is the lucky individual that gets to listen to the little nuances of people peeing or otherwise in the bathroom he is always close to.  It’s icky.  That being said, I’ve always thought it would be pretty cool to watch as a couple tried to sneakily join the mile high club; how difficult it must be to get away with that!  I’ve heard it happens though… bonkers.

The men next to me did the following things: passenger 29A talked to Karen about picking Mary’s brain so that they could Adam and Darrel to team up against Judy, and could you believe that she just bought her ticket for the conference?  Passenger 29B was reading a transcribed phone interview of what I ascertained to be a perspective employee.  On the copy of the interview, he was taking notes like: “huh…” and “what is he trying to say here?” and, my personal favorite, “Not. Good…”  As I was reading, I noticed that he had written, “should already be terminated…ha!” on his little paper.  It made me giggle because the man was clearly quite proud of himself.  Also, he noticed I was reading his work and quickly decided to dose off with the interview put away.

Note: the stewardesses/flight attendants/whatevers had crazy names.  Stephaniea, Olivianda, and Louise. 

 I think they like to keep the least resilient passengers in the very back so that no one can get too uncomfortable about the crying people sitting next to them.  Luckily, Kelly Murphy was sitting next to me and I have a weird complex that tells me crying is a sign of weakness and appearing weak in front of Kelly would be a severe mistake/shortcoming on my part.  Hooray!  I didn’t cry!  I should have though.  The turbulence was horrendous.  At one point, I actually said aloud, “No one is going to survive this.  Holyshitgoodbyeimsosorryforeverythingivedoneohmygod.”



Dublin Castle



Then we landed. 

Hey, Dublin.





The Hostel was more than accommodating.  It was rather difficult at the time to appreciate how great it was due to some severe lack of energy that would hopefully be revitalized after some food.  We had lunch at some café—unfortunately, the name escapes me—and it was delicious.  There were eight of us so we split up into two tables of four.  I know that some of us had Irish breakfast while the majority of us had burgers.  I may be wrong, but I think that the burger was the best hamburger I’ve ever had (except for the western burger at Patrick’s… yum.)

Unfortunately, immediately following a delicious lunch, we went on a walking tour of Dublin.  It was rough; it was really rough.  Here are some thoughts on the 3 hour walking tour with Tony, the world’s most difficult, overzealous tour guide:

1.       As terrible as it sounds, I do believe that a majority of Dublin’s alleyways reek of urine with just a hint of paint thinner and spilled Guinness.  It was icky.  In my journal, which I use as a reminder for what to write about, I actually wrote: “I think someone peed on me.”

2.       Many times, the tour was punctuated by audible groans and a general grumbliness.  Perhaps starting off with a walking tour was not the greatest idea.  Everyone’s irritation was palpable, I do believe. 

Following a period of much needed rest after the longest tour in the history of the world, our group went out for dinner at an Italian restaurant near Jacobs Inn.  The menu was pretty minimal as IES paid for dinner—drink not included: lame.  The food was either delicious or disastrous depending on what you ordered.  The arribiata was unbearably hot and the Caesar salad was overly fishy.  The carbonara, however, was UNREAL…so tasty.  I could have eaten another four bowls of that yummy dish.   I sat next to Rachel and it was quite the treat; she is a very enjoyable human being.  We thought about ordering some cocktails with our meal, but the €11 price tag was not appealing.

After dinner, a great number of us went to the liquor store to pick up some drinks for the evening.  Izzy, Drew, Steve, and I split two bottles of wine.  Both were okay, and we managed to down them pretty quickly.  Izzy may or may not have been feeling it more than the other three of us; meanwhile, Jenny was finding it difficult to stand up.  She was hilarious.  Anyway, everyone was in a going out mood so we decided to go to The Temple Bar area of Ireland to party the night away.  Regrettably, this fool forgot his ID back home and wasn’t allowed in.  Coincidently, I was the OLDEST person on the trip.  Boo. 

After beating myself up for being a moron—which apparently didn’t end in Ireland: see next blog—I walked back to the Inn with Izzy, Drew, and Steve.  These three literally make my life.

When we got back to the hostel, we stumbled upon Jenny with *gasp* a boy.  Dun dun dun!  Luckily, Jenny was much more excited to see us and was more than willing to see her guest leave.  To quote, “This is perfect timing!  I just wanted to see my homies!”  She’s a nice girl.



The Irish Green Grass



It felt good to go to sleep.

Breakfast consisted of TOAST and cereal on Saturday morning.  While over here, I have discovered a strange affinity for toasted bread and its delectable characteristics.  It’s quite good with butter, peanut butter, or even jelly; who knew breakfast could be good?  All those years of Granny asking me if I was hungry in the morning might have actually taken some hold after all.

 I wore my green scarf all day.  For those of you unaware, the scarf belongs to Spencer and I may have taken it from him because it’s quite lovely.  He may or may not have given me permission.  Either way, mine now!   The scarf sort of symbolized his presence in Ireland a year earlier and I thought it would be a romantic gesture for him to share it with me again…  It’s a little weird, I know.  Whatever.

We visited the writer’s museum in Dublin.  There wasn’t much to see and it was quite small, but I did get to see the original copy of Gulliver’s Travels.  Still, it was a swift visit…  bahaha, get it?  Swift visit?

Steve, Drew, Izzy, Stacy, and I went exploring and found some cool little fountains, memorials, and cathedrals.  We revisited Christ Cathedral and saw St Patrick’s Cathedral as well.  While visiting St Patty’s, Drew voiced this little quote about the beautiful, luscious grass around us: “I would, like, have sex with the grass.”  It really is nice grass.  Following a ketchupless lunch at a diner called “Abrakebabra,” we returned to the hostel for a trip on the train to the coast.

The coast is unreal.  I can’t actually write about it without the pangs of doing it injustice.  From my journal: Spectacular.  Just spectacular.  We met an adorable dog (named it Jamie Joyce after our absent friend), explored the land, and didn’t find delicious cupcakes.  God knows we tried though.



Steve, Izzy, Stacy, and Drew



View from the Guinness Bar

Sunday went by all too fast.  A few of us toured the Guinness factory and sampled the international favorite.  I am not a beer person, and I don’t think I ever will be, but Guinness is quite tasty.  There was a lot to see and learn about the whole process; I think I came out respecting beer a lot more than I did going in.  Following the tour: homeward bound.

Jenny and Drew with Jamie Joyce

The plane ride was another rough one.  At one point, I looked at Izzy and said, “we’re going to die.  We’re going to die.”  She calmed me down, or tried to the best of her ability, but admitted to me at the end of the flight that she was quite worried herself.  My mother might have actually passed out on board.  No joke.

It was delightful to be in London.  I missed it.

Most enjoyably, it felt like I was coming home.