Takeoff! And Days 1-4 in Dublin's Fair City

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After enjoying a farewell meal at a local restaurant (if I’d known how many sandwich-type foods I’d be eating on this trip, I might not have had a sandwich for my farewell meal), we were at the airport and on our way. We had to connect in Toronto, where we had a 5 hour wait for our flight to Dublin. We occupied ourselves by having some really terrible chicken wings and downing Diet Cokes that had to be poured into cups because of the ban on liquids. We also heard a few Irish accents and saw a few Irish passports, which caused us to transform into giggly little schoolgirls.

As the plane left the ground, we did little happy dances in our seats and then tried to get some sleep. We put on our very chic eyeshades and settled back into slightly-reclined seats. Instead of sleeping, I had to listen to the flight attendants flirt with the guy two rows up from us who was heading to Ireland to bury his mother. Weird time to pick someone up, but to each her own, I suppose. I got really testy when I was awoken from a fitful, drool-filled sleep by a flight attendant hawking her duty free stuff in a louder-than-normal voice. It was 3:00 am, everyone’s trying to sleep, and you’re using your shouting voice to talk. Guess she wanted her new boyfriend to hear how good she was at selling alcohol. I satisfied myself with a withering glare in her direction and pretended to sleep for the rest of the flight.

Not even the rain could dampen our spirits as we caught our first glimpse of the Dublin Airport. Nor could the sight of a drunk man with a briefcase falling all over the place in the arrivals area. We were in Ireland, and we were freak-out excited. As I was waiting for my baggage, I heard “Are you from here?” for the first time, and it would become all too familiar as the trip went on. We opted for a cab to our accommodation, not wanting to cart our bags around in a strange city after getting off the Aircoach. Us? Budget travellers? Ha! Our cabbie did succeed in freaking us out a little, with stories about all the women who have gone missing in Ireland in the past 10 years and with stories about how our hostel was a place for down-on-their-luck foreigners to stay while they were looking for work. Uh, great, thanks. He seemed to be entertained by our amusement at the franchise name ‘Abrakebabra’ and was shocked that they’re nowhere to be found in Canada. We also grossed him out with tales of poutine and beavertails. Hey, they’re tasty. Anyway, the stories made the 30 euro cab ride a little less painful.

Our first real introduction to cars driving on the left side of the road came shortly after we got dropped off at Citi Hostels on Charlemont (ch as in chicken not as in chiffon, according to the Dubliners) Street. I went in to pay the bill and check in, and Jenn stayed outside with our bags. I heard her laughing and calling me, and I ran outside to see a sheepdog driving a truck. Okay, so you can see where this is going, but to a North American eye, it genuinely looked like the dog was driving. He even looked left before making a turn. We found it hilarious, but as you know, small things…

We couldn’t check into our room for another 2 hours, so we grabbed some sandwiches at a nearby corner store and went back to the common room in the hostel to wait. That’s where we met Isaac, a fellow Canadian who’s been living in London for the past 6 years and who, as a result, has one really messed up accent. I derided his choice of baseball cap (Leafs suck!) and we arranged to meet up later for some drinks.

Now, we grew to like Citi Hostels, but it WAS a little sketchy. It had a life-sized statue of Jesus in the hallway (that’s not the sketchy part) and was indeed attached to a different kind of ‘hostel’ for down-and-out people. We were told not to go through a certain door. Also, someone stole Jenn’s Pringles from the kitchen. Not cool. In spite of all that, it was the only room on our trip that had a full-length mirror. Big points! Also, despite being an only child, I’d always wanted to have bunk beds, so I finally got my wish to sleep in the top bunk. Feeling a tad sleepy, we settled in for a nap (which would prove to be a recurring theme on this trip) and then set out for some sustenance and an off-license (which would also prove to be a recurring theme). We ended up going to Jack Carvill and Sons on Camden Street for our off-license needs - it’s really cozy and old-fashioned looking, and it had better prices than the ubiquitous Spar. Very different from our government-owned liquor stores here in Ontario. Upon heading back to the hostel, we discovered our favourite place in Dublin - Harcourt Diner. It was attached to our hostel (actually, I think our room was above it) and had all kinds of junk food, like pizza, curry fries, kebabs, etc. We ate there at least once every day, the gourmands that we are.

Isaac and his Londoner friend, Khaled, knocked on our door at around 8:00, and we all enjoyed a few drinks while listening to some Canadian music on my iPod and the speakers I’d brought. I was so glad I’d brought these things. We had alot of our fun just listening to music and having a few drinks while getting ourselves all prettied up before heading out on the town. Isaac suggested a bar called The Bleeding Horse on Camden Street, and we immediately took a liking to it. It seems like you’ve seen it all, but then you’ll spot another room to explore. The guys had to head out early the next morning (read: they couldn’t keep up) so they left, which left us free to talk to our first locals. After drinking a disgusting shot (the bartender was a good sport and tried to follow our directions for making Polar Bears, but really was not successful), we ‘joined’ up with a work party and had a fun time chatting about our trip and about Canada and Ireland in general. This would also mark the beginning of the legendary “Can I ask you one question?” question. Throughout the trip, we heard this question dozens of times, and always knew that a question ranging from mildly funny to genuinely hilarious was to follow. This night, the popular question was “Why Ireland?” to which we simply answered, “Why not?”

We eventually made our way outside for some fresh air (which wasn’t so fresh, because we went into the smoking area. Duh.) and ended up chatting with some more locals til the bar closed. They were definitely some funny guys, and told us they knew we were Canadian and not American because of the way we said “What?” Sounds interesting and very scientific eh? They invited us to come to a nearby club with them, and, not ready for our first night to end, we accepted. We walked by the entrance to a club called PoD (aka Place of Dance) and, seeing a huge lineup, went around the back where we got in easily, thanks to one of the people we were with who apparently works there. This place was pretty crazy - it’s in an old restored train station and has two distinct rooms with different styles of DJs spinning. A lot of guys dancing, and not too many girls. Many people seemed to be, umm, under the influence of hallucinogenic substances, and were quite happy. An enthusiastic fellow tried to engage me in a political discussion about Lebanon, but I got rid of him after repeatedly stating that I didn’t want to talk about politics on my holiday. We danced our butts off, got invited to a party by some random person (geez, these Irish are friendly), lost our Bleeding Horse friends, made some new ones and headed over to Harcourt Diner afterwards for some curry fries, yum yum. Stumbled next door and fell asleep at around 4:00 am.

The next day, we awoke around 10:00, and set out on a mission to get some touristy stuff done. After enjoying some toasties (hot, toasted sandwiches) at Café Sol, we headed down to Grafton Street, which is the main shopping area in Dublin, to do a bit of shopping. I tore me eyes away from all the Irish eye candy walking around in suits long enough to buy a cell phone at Vodafone, which cost 50 euros and came with 10 euros worth of credit. I’d researched the phone issue before the trip, and thought this would be the easiest and least expensive way to go for what I wanted. Jenn also picked up a cute shirt and we found a pretty little necklace for a friend back home at a stand in the St. Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre.

We then boarded the hop-on hop-off bus at the Trinity College stop and got the opportunity to listen to some singing from the driver (Molly Malone, The Irish Rover, all that fun, touristy stuff) before getting off at the Guinness Storehouse. I’d like to say here that it’s totally worth it to buy your tickets online beforehand. We got to skip two large lines and were inside doing the tour in 2 minutes. Neither of us are beer drinkers, but we did enjoy the tour (especially the Guinness advertising section), and picked up some cute souvenirs. We also had fun filling out an index card and sticking it on the wall designed for this purpose. Our contribution: Guinness maks me smrtr. Fun times. Like troopers, we got our free pint in the Gravity Bar at the top of the factory, while enjoying the panoramic view of Dublin, and took a sip. Both of us struggled not to make faces, and we nonchalantly put our full pints on a table and left. Hope someone enjoyed them. Jenn told me later she “couldn’t get past the foam.”

After that, we headed over to Kilmainham Gaol, which was my other ‘must-see’ place in Dublin. The jail opened in the 1790s and held both petty criminals as well as those fighting for Irish independence. I wasn’t disappointed - our guide was exceptional, and really evoked the feel of the place, with plenty of dramatic pauses. The tour takes you through the old section of the jail, the chapel, and the newer, panopticon section of the jail before ending up in the execution yard, where the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising were executed. Too bad there was a baby in our group that had crapped its pants and wouldn’t stop wailing. In spite of that, the guide handled himself beautifully and I was really moved - especially in the execution yard, where crosses marked the places of some of those who were killed. Definitely worth the trip.

Feeling a bit worn out by this point, we headed back to the hostel, stopping at an off-license on the way, where I got ID’d (I should take it as a compliment, but I didn’t) and laid down for a nap. We meant to wake up at 8:00, but the alarm didn’t go off and we got up at 9:00 instead. Immediately though, we popped up and started getting ready for another night on the town. We decided to go to Temple Bar this night, even though I’d heard of its reputation as a tourist-filled vomiturium, because we wanted to experience it. We took a cab over, and our cabbie pointed us in the direction of THE Temple Bar, but we never made it. Instead, we stopped in at a place called Farringtons and had a few drinks and fun conversation with some locals, who informed us that our ‘chat-up line’ of “Can we bring our drinks outside?” was not sufficient and that we’d have to come up with something wittier. Some other people pointed out their friend and told us he was a great gaelic football player - in fact, apparently, “He’s so savage, he’d tackle his own mother!” Closer to the end of the night, we moved over to Messrs. Maguires, a bar on the banks of the River Liffey that has its own microbrewery, and enjoyed the corny 80s music they were playing. Gotta be the first time I’ve heard “I Had the Time of My Life” in years. It was great fun.

Back to the Harcourt Diner for some fries afterwards, and another “Can I ask you one question?” session - “Do you know Wayne Gretzky?” We were also lucky enough to be treated to a wonderful choral version of the wacky Goldfinger song ‘Wayne Gretzky’. You know, the one sung by a man and with the lyric “Wayne Gretzky, I wonder what it would be like to sleep with the league’s leading scorer.” Another fun night in Dublin, and I didn’t even witness anyone vomit.

The next morning, we had to get up early (like 7:30!) for our day trip to County Wicklow. It was rough, but you will be pleased to know that we dragged our butts out of bed to actually see some scenery! This was one of my must-dos on the trip, since my family name comes from the Wicklow area and is apparently still quite common there. We had opted for the Wild Wicklow tour and had booked it in advance. It was a piece of cake to board the bus in the morning at a designated pick up point. Our driver-guide’s name was Ita, and she turned out to be fantastic. She talked pretty much non-stop the whole way up through the mountains and was a wealth of information. We stopped to take some pictures at one point in the mountains, at a place called Loch Tay, and these turned out to be some of my favourite pictures of the trip. With the purple heather in bloom, the mountains were breathtaking. We stopped for a break at the Avoca Handweaver’s shop, where I picked up a scarf for my grandma and where we took some pictures in their beautiful gardens. While we were relaxing on a bench in the gardens, a little bird startled us by flying out of a bush behind us and then hopping around contentedly at our feet. We then made our may to the village of Laragh and stopped at Lynham’s, a family run hotel, for a rather expensive carvery lunch. The teen waiters were so cute with their little ties and their politeness, though, so I forgave them for the price.

When we finally got the chance to explore Glendalough, which is an ancient monastic site founded by St. Kevin in the 6th century, it was hard to get a feel for the place because of all the people milling around. In fact, the parking lot was so crowded that Ita couldn’t park the bus and therefore couldn’t guide us around the site. It was still enjoyable to explore, and we opted to take the 20 minute trek to the Upper Lake. Again, I’m sure it’s even more spectacular with less people around. The walk back was a killer, but Ita had some little glasses of whiskey waiting for everyone before the drive home (we didn’t partake though, because whiskey = nasty). Both Jenn and I passed out on the bus on the way back, and then had a relaxing evening at the hostel, calling home with our handy-dandy cell phone and writing in our journals. I suppose the ride over and the two previous late nights had caught up with us a little and we needed an evening to recharge our batteries, especially since Jenn was beginning to feel a cold coming on.

We had gorgeous weather for our last day in Dublin. I had plans to take in Trinity College and, in particular, the Book of Kells exhibit. The Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript of the four gospels, and was created by monks sometime between the 6th and 9th centuries. Jenn wasn’t going to come with me to Trinity College originally, but changed her mind at the last minute. She admitted later that she was really glad she did, because she found the Book of Kells exhibit really interesting. We were both stunned by the Long Room at Trinity…wow. Incredible. We’re both bookworms, so it was especially stunning. Just walking through some of the buildings at Trinity brought back memories of university for both of us too. We picked up some souvenirs at Trinity and then, since the day was so beautiful, we got some tasty looking sandwiches and some “crisps” (Thai Sweet Chili..yum) and made our way over to St. Stephen’s Green, a large public park in the city centre, for a little picnic. We both loved St. Stephen’s Green and took a bunch of photos. Even the homeless people wandering around the park were very friendly. Some more souvenir shopping (and a chat with the Czech clerk about hockey), plus a fruitless search for a ‘nail bar’ and then it was back to the old standby, the Harcourt Diner, for dinner. Yes, we’re quite the foodies. Can you tell? We couldn’t help it….the pizza was so greasy and yummy….mmmm. Before heading back to the hostel, we spent an hour at an internet place around the corner from Harcourt - 1 euro for 1 hour - that’s hard to beat!

We HAD to go out on our last night in Dublin, even though it was a Monday. Doesn’t matter to Dubliners what day of the week it is - I love this city. Through my thorough research, I knew that a place called Flannery’s had a quiz night on Mondays, so we headed over there. Well, turns out the quiz isn’t til after midnight, so to pass the time (for no other reason, really, I promise) we had a few drinks and got started talking to some more locals. One guy was very knowledgeable about Canadian music, which impressed us, and one guy was very touchy-feely, which didn’t impress us so much. We ended up joining forces with this group for the quiz, which turned out to be a good thing, because a lot of the questions were about Irish or European pop culture. The Canadians represented on one question though: “In America, what’s three under par called?” The Irish wanted to say Albatross, but we insisted on Double Eagle and, of course, got the question right. I don’t think we won the quiz though. It was a little hazy at that point. I’m sure you can guess where we headed after that (hint: we had some kebabs) and then off to sleep once again. This was probably our favourite night out in Dublin. And no, it wasn’t because of the touchy-feely guy.

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