The Time I Almost Didn't Go to Ireland

It was a rainy Saturday in Manchester (shocking, I know) and I had just wrapped up the last essay of my masters program a few days before. I was still recovering mentally, and was very much looking forward to spending four days in Ireland decompressing and having a much needed adventure. I had started packing and crossing things off my to-do list. Next on the list was checking into my flight online. I was flying Ryan Air, which is a terrible airline aside from their prices. I guess you get what you pay for. For some reason, I could not find the confirmation email. I searched both of my inboxes multiple times, but with no luck. Without the confirmation number, I couldn't check in online. So I called Ryan air. Did you know they charge 10 pence a minute to call their customer service? Ridiculous. Did you further know that they provide another number to call of you'd like to complain about having to pay that 10 pence a minute to talk to a Ryan Air representative? They only charge 5p/minute for this number. Even more ridiculous. I sent them an email in an attempt to avoid the fee but received a reply that directed me to their phone service, so I called. As I waited on hold for what seemed like an eternity, I counted the pences this call was costing me, folded laundry, and attempted to emotionally prepare myself for being informed that I had not actually booked the flight and would walk away from my year in England without seeing Ireland. I was angry. 

I became even angrier when I finally spoke to a customer rep, who said that she found my name in the system, but because I could not provide her with my confirmation number or the email I had used to book my flight (neither of my email accounts were in her system), I wouldn't be able to fly. Insert more angry thoughts here. So I searched through all of my existing email accounts for the 4th time and finally found an email from a third party that I had apparently purchased my tickets through. They had assigned me some random email address to use when checking in online. It was something like my firstname.lastname@wereassigningyouarandomemailtoannoyyou.com. Mission accomplished. However, I was relieved that I would, in fact, be going to Ireland. So I checked in online, printed my boarding pass, and made my way to the airport the following morning. I'm glad I did, because my time in Ireland turned out to be amazing. 
Day 1: I spent my first day meandering the streets of Dublin, touring castles and cathedrals, popping into pastry shops, and getting rained on. 

I attended evensong at Christ Church Cathedral and visited the crypt beneath after the service, discovering the famous cat and mouse chase scene. Creepy.  

My next stop was the Brazen Head, Dublin's oldest pub. Apparently there is always live music on Sunday evenings, so I picked a great time to grab a drink. Found a chair next to the band and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy 1.5 hours of Irish music. 

The banjo player was real cute. I noticed him, he noticed me. We exchanged "I'm noticing you glances" and I managed to get a wink from him. I was sitting next to a group of English guys and proceeded to strike up a conversation. When the music ended, the banjo player came over to our table and introduced himself as Davy. He then informed me that I didn't have to talk to these guys "just because they're English." Haha. We all became friends and decided to check out the pub across the street, where Davy went played banjo again. After drinking a Guinness, which is not delicious even in Ireland, we decided to leave. Davy invited us to his place, which was right around the corner, for drinks. His apartment overlooked the River Liffey, and we had some great times throwing a couple back, listening to Mumford and Sons, and talking politics and economics. 

Next on the agenda was Temple Bar, where Panic at the Disco had supposedly been earlier in the evening. Fun scene. Davy disappeared for a smoke but did not return in time for me to thank him before I disappeared for the train. He was no doubt devastated.

Day 2: Because I was couch surfing 30 mins outside the city center (if you're a poor student and want a free place to stay when you travel, I highly recommend couchsurfing.com), I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to catch the train for the city where my tour bus awaited me. I had booked a day tour of the Cliffs of Moher and was looking forward to seeing these beauties. I sat in the second row from the front on the left. The only other person in our group traveling solo was a cute guy in red chucks sitting in the front row on the right. As I've mentioned in a previous post, Converses are the most universal shoes I have seen in all of my travels. I approve of this. After a couple of hours, our bus pulled into a gas station for a 15 minute break. I wondered around looking at all the snacks and noticed red shoes close by. He stopped next to me and I told him, "I like your kicks." His response: "I don't speak English." Fail. Our conversation ended and we all piled back into the bus. Next stop was at a castle. 

He and I wandered on the same direction and I proceeded to bust out my Spanish skills that have been latent since 2004. Painful, but between his broken English and my broken Spanish, we managed to converse. Eduardo invited me to sit next to him once we got back on the bus, and I happily accepted, both because I was glad to have a friend, and also because the front row had a much better view out the front window. Win win. We toured the cliffs together, taking each other's pictures and walking dangerously close to the edge. 

At one point, the sun was so warm (did I mention that it was a gorgeous day?!) that I took my coat off and put it underneath my purse while I posed for a picture. In a split second and with a big gust of wind, my coat (the coat I was borrowing from a friend) flew out from under my purse and was headed strait over the edge. Literally. It was about to fly off the cliff, when all of the sudden, it stopped. Eduardo lunged for the coat, and I had several mini heart attacks as I did not want to lose either my new friend or my friend's coat to the waves crashing down below. Both survived. 



















The rest of the day was less eventful but equally glorious. Once we got back to Dublin, Eduardo and I exchanged contact info and are now Facebook friends (the best kind of friendship). He's probably going to think I'm super weird for writing about this if he happens to read it, but hopefully that won't affect his invitation for me to visit him in Argentina sometime. I've added that to my list of places to travel. 

Day 3: Took a bus to Galway and spent the day walking around enjoying the sunshine and music. I took my shoes off, played on the sandy beach, sat on a rock and contemplated my life for a while, and got pooped on by a bird. Good times. 

I ended my day back at the Brazen Head for more live music, where I made friends with a family from DC. They just so happen to live next to the guy who oversees Africa for the World Bank and said they'd be happy to put me in touch. I love connections! 

Day 4: My feet were killing me after walking around like crazy for three days, but I was determined to take advantage of my last day in this fabulous city. So I headed to a tour of Kilmainham Gaol (jail). On my way, I stopped to ask an older gentleman if I was headed in the right direction. He said yes, and then told me to look out for Joe Brady in the jail. Said it was his grandfather, who was one of the Irish National Invincibles hanged at the jail in 1883 for the assassination of Secretary Thomas Henry Burke.



































Lo and behold, there was tons of info on this guy at the jail. How cool that I met his grandfather! 





















After a tour of the jail, I spent a leisurely afternoon reading Bossypants by the River Liffey. Great view and great book! If you haven't read it yet, do yourself a favor and buy a copy. Immediately. I laughed out loud the entire time. 















I've neglected to mention thus far that I did not eat well in Ireland. I gave myself a strict budget, which means I survived on bread, cheese, apples, granola bars, more cheese, coffee, and alcohol. Combined with an estimated 7 miles of walking a day, I'm pretty sure I dropped a couple of pounds. Success! I had some time left before I needed to head to the airport and 13.50 euros in my wallet. I knew I needed 6 for the bus and wanted to give myself a little cushion, but I was also experiencing serious cravings for real food. So what did I do? I found myself a Chinese buffet and grabbed a takeaway box for 5 euros. 















I probably should have gone for an Irish meal instead, but I did not regret my decision. Chinese food is delicious everywhere. I sat on some steps in the Temple Bar area and was serenaded with live music coming from the pub next door. It was awesome. And I ate it all. So much for all that walking. Then I said my goodbyes to Dublin and headed to the airport, so glad that I had found that confirmation email and made it to Ireland.