One non-negotiable fact in my relationship with Jenna has been that some day we would have to go to Ireland. It's her dreamland. The majesty of the patchwork Irish countryside and the rocky coastlines and such - it's just been her dream to go there. I certainly didn't object. So when we realized that we'd be starting classes on Monday, the 22nd of September, we decided to book our last long-trip til Christmas - we'd go Wednesday to Ireland, and we'd come back really early Sunday morning. Flights were cheap, we could day-trip to the Cliffs of Moher, we'd spend a couple of days in Dublin, and then we'd rent a car and drive around on Saturday. Bulletproof.
Our next day was the day-trip: We left exceedingly early and took a bus from the east coast to the west coast of Ireland, seeing virtually nothing in between because of the fog-so-thick-you-could-cut-it-with-a-knife. It was a blanket. It was really disheartening. There was a stop to stroll through Galway, which was nice, and then the bus continued on to main event. We thought the cliffs would be worthless upon arrival, as the fog was not lifting. There were some pretty downtrodden moments on the bus. However, it started to clear up juuuust enough to give them a haunting, alien, incredible vibe.
We arrived on Wednesday and began wandering Dublin. It was, shockingly, a pretty overcast day, so nothing looked quite as pretty as we'd hoped. We visited Trinity College and decided not to pay 10 euros to see the Book of Kells, watched a man feeding swans at St. Stephen's Green from his hands, sat by the pond where said-swans were hanging out, strolled the shopping streets, took a look at Dublin Castle, walked along the River Liffey, and found our way to the place we'd rented on AirBnB.
If that sounds like a lot for one day, it's because Dublin didn't really tickle us as a city. We had a nice time in the city, but we didn't really do a whole lot. On Friday, St. Patrick's Cathedral (below) was charming, and we spent several hours there, but it was mostly because we didn't feel like doing anything else and we saw someone with a bulldog that *ran* past us - can you even imagine a bulldog running? No, you can't. I understand that feeling.
Our next day was the day-trip: We left exceedingly early and took a bus from the east coast to the west coast of Ireland, seeing virtually nothing in between because of the fog-so-thick-you-could-cut-it-with-a-knife. It was a blanket. It was really disheartening. There was a stop to stroll through Galway, which was nice, and then the bus continued on to main event. We thought the cliffs would be worthless upon arrival, as the fog was not lifting. There were some pretty downtrodden moments on the bus. However, it started to clear up juuuust enough to give them a haunting, alien, incredible vibe.
You've likely all seen pictures, but it's just outrageously impressive to see in person. They're huge, sheer, and look like they belong in a movie rather than reality. The adjacent fields and fields of cows lend to the majesty in some weird way: The weird way for us was having an enormous Scotch Highland peek its head between fence-slats and say hello to us. Its head was about the size of our torsos and probably quite a bit heavier. I could talk about the cliffs and their majesty for days, but we must get to Saturday.
Saturday began with the worst rental car experience of my life. If anyone would like to read my letter to Sixt Rent-a-car's customer service department, I'd be glad to send it out. In short, we waited for one hour at the pickup location (rental desk at terminal, cars at rental lot) and ultimately were shuttled over by another company who just felt bad for us. Then, despite already having a reservation, the walking corpse of an attendant (Ray was his name) managed to use another 30 minutes re-reserving my car. When an annoyed customer said "just so you know, we waited forever and there are still people waiting at the terminal," a pleasant young woman working for Sixt snottily replied "I know." When he said "you know? And you don't want to do anything about it?" She said "Well I don't drive the vans, so no, I'm not going to do anything about it."
Don't use Sixt. Pay more to use a less-shitty company. I'm getting sidetracked.
A friend of mine had attended Trinity College in Dublin and suggested we check out an area north of the city called Howth, which we chose to pronounce as "house" with a lisp. We initially actually went north of Howth in an attempt to just kind of see what was around, and we stumbled onto a beautiful rocky beach area which I'll never know the name of (unless I look in Jenna's pictures, because I think she took a photo of the sign).
But we continued. We found our way to Howth. It was wondrous. It's a not-quite-island that looks toward Dublin about 10 miles away, but the majority of the island (screw it, I'm calling it an island) is a pair of really big hills. So you can sit up at the top, looking down several hundred feet at the waves and lighthouse below, or off into the distance at Dublin. Or if you go to the harborside, there's a beautiful town and harbor with lovely views in the other direction. It was one of the best surprises we could've imagined.
But it wasn't even the best surprise of the day. Not even close.
That honor goes to a place called Skerries. It's apparently known for having a few windmills - which we saw off in the distance - and a nice harbor area with some restaurants. It also has seals. That's right, seals. We saw them. We were so close to them that we could hear WILD SEALS breathing. We named them Larry and Sherry, the seals of Skerries. And they were our best friends. If only we'd had fish, they would have loved us forever.
The other thing Skerries had was a sunset of mind-blowing beauty. I took 30+ photos in the time we were there, and that was while trying to put the camera down and enjoy life. I'll only attach one.
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There was much more. There was a tiny town where we got lost and took a walk through a beautiful little cemetery. There was the realization that zero restaurants were open past 9:30 on a Saturday night and we'd end up paying $25 for Burger King at a rest stop. There was the knowledge that we didn't have a place to stay Saturday night, so we would sleep in the car for a few hours, under the stars, at that same lookout point in Howth. There was the charming young family eating ice cream before we left Skerries, who informed us how wrongly we'd been pronouncing "Howth" all day. There was the fact that all of this driving was done on the left side of the road, from the right side of the car, in a manual. There was even the faint suspicion that the other cars at the lookout point at 3:00 a.m. were either soliciting sex or dealing drugs.
None of it mattered. It was a heavenly end to the trip.
If anyone wants to see more pictures, I have a few dropbox albums up and can share the links, so just ask.
Coming up next: Nice, France, September 27-29.
Don't use Sixt. Pay more to use a less-shitty company. I'm getting sidetracked.
A friend of mine had attended Trinity College in Dublin and suggested we check out an area north of the city called Howth, which we chose to pronounce as "house" with a lisp. We initially actually went north of Howth in an attempt to just kind of see what was around, and we stumbled onto a beautiful rocky beach area which I'll never know the name of (unless I look in Jenna's pictures, because I think she took a photo of the sign).
But we continued. We found our way to Howth. It was wondrous. It's a not-quite-island that looks toward Dublin about 10 miles away, but the majority of the island (screw it, I'm calling it an island) is a pair of really big hills. So you can sit up at the top, looking down several hundred feet at the waves and lighthouse below, or off into the distance at Dublin. Or if you go to the harborside, there's a beautiful town and harbor with lovely views in the other direction. It was one of the best surprises we could've imagined.
But it wasn't even the best surprise of the day. Not even close.
That honor goes to a place called Skerries. It's apparently known for having a few windmills - which we saw off in the distance - and a nice harbor area with some restaurants. It also has seals. That's right, seals. We saw them. We were so close to them that we could hear WILD SEALS breathing. We named them Larry and Sherry, the seals of Skerries. And they were our best friends. If only we'd had fish, they would have loved us forever.
The other thing Skerries had was a sunset of mind-blowing beauty. I took 30+ photos in the time we were there, and that was while trying to put the camera down and enjoy life. I'll only attach one.
There was much more. There was a tiny town where we got lost and took a walk through a beautiful little cemetery. There was the realization that zero restaurants were open past 9:30 on a Saturday night and we'd end up paying $25 for Burger King at a rest stop. There was the knowledge that we didn't have a place to stay Saturday night, so we would sleep in the car for a few hours, under the stars, at that same lookout point in Howth. There was the charming young family eating ice cream before we left Skerries, who informed us how wrongly we'd been pronouncing "Howth" all day. There was the fact that all of this driving was done on the left side of the road, from the right side of the car, in a manual. There was even the faint suspicion that the other cars at the lookout point at 3:00 a.m. were either soliciting sex or dealing drugs.
None of it mattered. It was a heavenly end to the trip.
If anyone wants to see more pictures, I have a few dropbox albums up and can share the links, so just ask.
Coming up next: Nice, France, September 27-29.
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