To my readers, since I am in Incline Village for the duration and even I might eventually run out of wind describing Tahoe, I am going to start releasing something I've been cleaning up for a while.
In March of 2009, I was living in Herndon, VA with Tom and Paul, having been there since graduation. We three had discussed going to Ireland for the 250th anniversary of Guinness for a long time and, seeing as we were all moving closer to the city and Paul was splitting off for law school, it seemed like a good cab on our time as roommates.
It was a ten-day trip, including travel, and when I came back home, I had so many stories that I simply had to share them. What followed was a series of e-mails to my friend Meghan that, when I finally moved them to Word, went on for 47 pages. It was quite the trip.
And so, while I'm depriving myself of dining out on some of these stories (*cough* Cork *cough*), I thought it was a good opportunity to edit them a bit and share with the people following this blog. I've also been dragging my feet with it, so hopefully owing it to those reading will help curtail that. I also will be probably somewhat eccentric about pictures...you should all go to Ireland if you haven't, anyway.
With that, we begin The Tale of Ireland...
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Friday before the trip, I took a study day and Tom was, as usual, working from home, so we spent the day after Paul left doing nothing but being excited (and some studying). We declared it Ireland Day and had a traditional Ireland Day lunch…at Chick-Fil-A.
When the time came, we split a cab to the airport, said "See you in Dublin!", then went to our separate gates. I spent my wait reading, flipping between Wuthering Heights and Round Ireland with a Fridge. The latter is a hilarious book about a British guy's trip hitchhiking around Ireland with the aforementioned appliance. It captures the hospitality and hilarity of the Irish people so well, and since all three of us read it, we looked to it as the guiding light of our own soon-to-be adventures.
Also, the fridge gets named and signed throughout its travels, which reminds me to introduce the talisman of the trip. You see, having bested 35 Guinnesses on my first week-long trip to the Emerald Isle, the boys suggested I go for an even 50 this time around. Furthermore, Tom had decided that we should mark off the pints I drink on my arm with a Sharpie to keep score. That sounded like a particularly poor plan to me, so I went on a campaign that Friday in search of something to use in my arm's stead. After much searching, I found a Guinness flip-flop my friend Sterling left in my trunk 3 years before when he visited Georgetown. It was unpaired, unclaimed, and forgotten; I declared it perfect.
I hope Sterling never comes calling for that sandal, because it's currently covered in tallymarks, as well as signatures from many of the amazing people we met along the way.
I had my layover in London-Heathrow airport, which is my absolute least favorite airport in the world. It's so confusingly laid out that I half-expect a minotaur to be hidden somewhere in Terminal B.
Finally, I got my Aer Lingus flight to Ireland. After passing out for the entirety of the flight, I landed in Dublin at 10 AM local time. Paul met me at arrivals, having come in a few hours earlier, and once we'd had our "Dude, we're in IRELAND" moment, we stepped out to catch a bus.
As it drove us into the heart of the city, my junior year trip came back to me, as though I’d just left yesterday. Also, going down O'Connell Street with its statues of Irish patriots, I was reminded of how recent a lot of their independence history is. Even setting aside the Troubles of Northern Ireland in the latter half of last century, the Republic of Ireland itself was still fighting for independence in the 40s! There we were passing the big columns of the post office and seeing bullet holes from the 1916 Easter Rising still pockmarked across the marble.
We went on to pass Trinity College and St. Stephen's Green until we finally hopped off the bus on a completely unfamiliar street. Maps and a long walk led us to our Hilton (many thanks to Tom and his Hilton points!), where we found the room not ready. We checked our bags and walked back out into the city. It was such a nice day that Paul suggested we take in some sights before Tommy joined us. We walked the 15 minutes north back to St. Stephen's Green and strolled along the pathways, stopping to identify the busts and statues throughout.
On the other side of the park, we stopped for some sandwiches and let me just say this once, so that I don't annotate this story with constant celebrations of sandwiches...sandwiches in Ireland and the United Kingdom rule. Not only do they have awesome premade sandwiches in every convenience store, but they also just know how to make a sandwich from scratch. For instance, I never thought about how fresh onion can actually add texture as well as taste. I inhale my food and I was still able to appreciate that.
After lunch, we strolled to Merrion Square, an even smaller park, to locate the hilarious statue of Oscar Wilde, where not only is he reclining on a rock with a salacious smirk, but every part of his outfit is made of a different kind of stone, making the statue colorized (green, purple and black). Oscar Wilde never looked more like the Joker.
We then turned west past Trinity College and, as we strolled down Dame Street, I realized I'd seen something familiar. Sure enough, a few paces back, we'd crossed a mosaic in the sidewalk reading "The Stag's Head" with an arrow and a picture of the stag itself.
Remembering the pub as a highlight from my last trip, I diverted us in the direction of the arrow, down a tiny alleyway and to the very foot of the right honorable pub. The bartender inside was warm and welcoming, especially once we started following the soccer game the bar was watching. Since you don't tip the bartenders in Ireland, if a bartender’s friendly, it's just who he is.
It was there that we had our first Guinnesses of the trip. I went three pints to Paul's two before we left, hoping to head back and get into our room. On our way back south, we took Grafton Street, an exciting pedestrian avenue with bright shops and street performers.
Guinness Count: 3
Back at the hotel, we got into the room (a queen and a pullout sofa) and Paul decided to nap. Since I've always been told to power through Day One Jetlag, I let him rest and walked back up to St. Stephen's Green to read, figuring I could then make an easy walk to the bus stop to pick up Tom. After a decent time reading, I walked about and found a place by the bus stop to pass the time.
Guinness Count: 4
Once Tom arrived and dropped his things at the hotel, it was time to head out for pubs and dinner, with an ultimate return to the Stag's Head. Nothing out of the ordinary happened that first night; we simply got our first taste of Dublin and went home to rest, eager to rent our car and head out the next morning.
Guinness Count: 7
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