"How did so late, get so soon?"-Dr. Seuss
It seems like it was just yesterday I was counting down the days to run rampant through the streets of Dublin for the one day where Irish blood runs through even the most foreign of people- St. Patricks day. And now, I'm scrambling to remember all the details (maybe this is due to copious pints?)
They say that American's treat this holiday with more enthusiasm than the actual Irish; but I beg to differ. From what we experienced in this magical city, the Irish do St. Pat's pretty damn big. With an unnatural green tint to the city, the streets were flooded with people from all over the world, and pungent aromas of stale beer were unavoidable (ah, sweet, sweet tailgate).
Of course the very first thing we did once stepping off that Godforsaken bus, was slurp down a shamrock shake. It almost felt like a necessary right of passage to truly begin the experience, and act like an American idiot whist doing so. After struggling to find the hotel, and successfully sneaking 8 people into our 2 person room- not an easy task when you're being stalked by security, we called it an early night and mentally prepared ourselves for the tailgate of of tailgates that is March 17th in Dublin. Oy.
In true Hawkeye tailgate fashion, the alarms were sounding bright and early and we put on our most obnoxious attire (capes, glasses, suspenders, the usual) and went through an unreal amount of prinking (pre-drinking: better than pre-gaming) and headed out to the parade. The parade wasn't too much of a show, more than likely due to the fact that I couldn't see over the people in front of me and that the parade floats were actually really creepy creatures just floating around. After the parade ended, we turned around and walked directly to the nearest pub, ironically directly behind us less than 50 feet away. The fun part is, we walked into the pub at 1pm and didn't end up leaving until 1am…oh Dublin, you rascal.
In this gross amount of time the following happened:
1. George, the 47 year old bouncer, proposed to me- only after he planted a wet one right on the kisser
2. Made friends with a cop from Wisconsin and a lesbian from DeWitt (naturally)
3. The bartender started giving us free drinks
4. I took a nap in the corner booth
5. Shattered a glass
6. A man in a wheelchair asked if he could "roll me around Dublin"
7. Took a nap in the hotel lobby
8. Woke up in my hotel room at 7 am, 100% still drunk.
The bus ride home was easily comparable to how I felt the day after my 21st birthday (wretched, worthless, nauseous, pick an adjective any adjective).
But Dublin, you were sassy and (mostly) memorable, and full of so many new friends (George, some french guy, and Keith- lol) and old (hi Mitch Grant, hi Courtney!)
After taking a few days to recover, oh and write that paper I forgot about about, I headed up the west coast with the lovely Zenisek clan. Looping through the Ring of Kerry and winding up in Sneem (yeah, where is that?), we learned to appreciate the little things in life- you know, washcloths, hairdryers, conditioner, wifi- the stuff normal places have. Sneem was cute though, but don't blink- you could miss it. We then continued up the coast to the Cliffs of Moher, still as beautiful as ever and ended up in Galway. Galway is absolutely stunningly cheerful, bright, and full of life- all I want in life is to be a Galway girl, so maybe this counts.
En route back to Cork, we decided to stop and stay in this quaint town called Ennis- but quaint it wasn't. After meeting a man named Dave who bought us all too many rounds of drinks after the Liverpool victory, we soon were informed by worried townies that hanging out with Dave would lead to trouble, because apparently even in small tiny towns like Ennis- conmen exist. Damn conmen- but hey, we got drinks and memories out of it? Bye Dave!
Not only did this weekend consist of new places and people- But now I can also officially say that I've tried new Irish foods (besides my weekly fish and chips). I was able to finally try black pudding*, Jameson, and Irish Stew- wow, so many flavors in such little time.
Just as quickly as time has passed from Dublin to today, I can only assume that time will fly even faster as I anxiously await the month long adventure that lays ahead as we embark on a real-life EuroTrip that will take us from Budapest, Barcelona, Venice, Rome, Tuscany, Prague, Munich and Edinburgh…honestly, pray for us.
*Black Pudding is NOT pudding. It's vampire food.
It seems like it was just yesterday I was counting down the days to run rampant through the streets of Dublin for the one day where Irish blood runs through even the most foreign of people- St. Patricks day. And now, I'm scrambling to remember all the details (maybe this is due to copious pints?)
They say that American's treat this holiday with more enthusiasm than the actual Irish; but I beg to differ. From what we experienced in this magical city, the Irish do St. Pat's pretty damn big. With an unnatural green tint to the city, the streets were flooded with people from all over the world, and pungent aromas of stale beer were unavoidable (ah, sweet, sweet tailgate).
Of course the very first thing we did once stepping off that Godforsaken bus, was slurp down a shamrock shake. It almost felt like a necessary right of passage to truly begin the experience, and act like an American idiot whist doing so. After struggling to find the hotel, and successfully sneaking 8 people into our 2 person room- not an easy task when you're being stalked by security, we called it an early night and mentally prepared ourselves for the tailgate of of tailgates that is March 17th in Dublin. Oy.
In true Hawkeye tailgate fashion, the alarms were sounding bright and early and we put on our most obnoxious attire (capes, glasses, suspenders, the usual) and went through an unreal amount of prinking (pre-drinking: better than pre-gaming) and headed out to the parade. The parade wasn't too much of a show, more than likely due to the fact that I couldn't see over the people in front of me and that the parade floats were actually really creepy creatures just floating around. After the parade ended, we turned around and walked directly to the nearest pub, ironically directly behind us less than 50 feet away. The fun part is, we walked into the pub at 1pm and didn't end up leaving until 1am…oh Dublin, you rascal.
In this gross amount of time the following happened:
1. George, the 47 year old bouncer, proposed to me- only after he planted a wet one right on the kisser
2. Made friends with a cop from Wisconsin and a lesbian from DeWitt (naturally)
3. The bartender started giving us free drinks
4. I took a nap in the corner booth
5. Shattered a glass
6. A man in a wheelchair asked if he could "roll me around Dublin"
7. Took a nap in the hotel lobby
8. Woke up in my hotel room at 7 am, 100% still drunk.
The bus ride home was easily comparable to how I felt the day after my 21st birthday (wretched, worthless, nauseous, pick an adjective any adjective).
But Dublin, you were sassy and (mostly) memorable, and full of so many new friends (George, some french guy, and Keith- lol) and old (hi Mitch Grant, hi Courtney!)
After taking a few days to recover, oh and write that paper I forgot about about, I headed up the west coast with the lovely Zenisek clan. Looping through the Ring of Kerry and winding up in Sneem (yeah, where is that?), we learned to appreciate the little things in life- you know, washcloths, hairdryers, conditioner, wifi- the stuff normal places have. Sneem was cute though, but don't blink- you could miss it. We then continued up the coast to the Cliffs of Moher, still as beautiful as ever and ended up in Galway. Galway is absolutely stunningly cheerful, bright, and full of life- all I want in life is to be a Galway girl, so maybe this counts.
En route back to Cork, we decided to stop and stay in this quaint town called Ennis- but quaint it wasn't. After meeting a man named Dave who bought us all too many rounds of drinks after the Liverpool victory, we soon were informed by worried townies that hanging out with Dave would lead to trouble, because apparently even in small tiny towns like Ennis- conmen exist. Damn conmen- but hey, we got drinks and memories out of it? Bye Dave!
Not only did this weekend consist of new places and people- But now I can also officially say that I've tried new Irish foods (besides my weekly fish and chips). I was able to finally try black pudding*, Jameson, and Irish Stew- wow, so many flavors in such little time.
Just as quickly as time has passed from Dublin to today, I can only assume that time will fly even faster as I anxiously await the month long adventure that lays ahead as we embark on a real-life EuroTrip that will take us from Budapest, Barcelona, Venice, Rome, Tuscany, Prague, Munich and Edinburgh…honestly, pray for us.
*Black Pudding is NOT pudding. It's vampire food.
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| Molly's Cupcakes Takes Dublin |
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| Ok. |
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| behind the bar- because we can |
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| oh, Dave. |
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| Galway Farmer's Market! |
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