April, 2010. I flew into Dublin from Chicago because it was, by far, the cheapest place to fly to in all of Europe. Ireland was not really on my list of places I wanted to spend any prolonged amount of time in, but it was a good starting off point.
As the plane was descending over the Emerald Isle, I gazed out the window at what really was the greenest place I had ever seen. Shimmery even. I was seated next to a man on the plane who was about 50 years old and had dreamed of going to Ireland his whole life and this was his first time, so he was very excited and it was rubbing off on me.
I made my way from the airport, by bus, to my hotel which was situated right in the heart of Temple Bar. Within Temple Bar lies Grafton Street - probably the most famous street in Ireland, except for maybe that street where Bloody Sunday occurred in Belfast, but Northern Ireland is a whole other story. Anyway, my hotel was called The Fleet Street Hotel and it was well before check-in time so I wandered around, trying to find a pub that was open so that I could have a few pints. I met a window washer named Pat (how original!) who pointed out the towering "spur" monument near the river Liffey and referred to it as "the syringe" and then gave me a ride in his window washer van to the only open pub in the neighborhood. I remember trying to get in to the van on the drivers' side and he said "oh ye're drivin' are ye?" and I sheepishly made my way around to the other side. I wish I could remember the name of the place he took me to, but it was a nice place that served a good lunch and I got quite hammered on Guinness. I met a lovely girl who was telling me all about how I had to go to a store called Penney's before I left Dublin. She also helped me get a taxi and sent me on my way to my hotel. I had a nice little room with a private bathroom (something I took for granted at the time).
The weather in Dublin was quite nippy that week in early April and I was packed for spring-like weather so I really had to layer on the clothing when I ventured outside. I had watched a documentary on famous Dublin pubs hosted by Frank McCourt (the author of Angela's Ashes) before I embarked on this trip, so I had a list of places I wanted to check out. Two places that really stuck out were John Kehoe's and Toner's.
I have never been much of a typical tourist. I am not very interested in seeing all of the monuments and museums and taking guided tours and what have you. I am more of a bar-hopping people person, and to me, the people ARE the attraction. I'm also an alcoholic, so naturally I spent a lot of time in pubs.
This initial stay in Dublin was only planned for 2 days and 3 nights because I wanted to check out a little bit of the city before I had to meet my friend in Scotland. I mostly wandered around Temple Bar, hit a lot of pubs, met a lot of super nice people, struggled to stay warm and stuck out like a sore thumb. I met a nice Irish guy named Jack and he took me to John Kehoe's (crossed that one off my list), which was packed full of Irish men in suits who all got a major kick out of me. I drank a LOT of Guinness. It was a LOT of fun.
Back in my hotel room, I was able to catch my first glimpse of a soap opera called Emmerdale. More on that in blogs to come. Anyway, my last day in Dublin I decided to have a bit of food at a really cool pub with a gorgeous mosaic wall and I met this bohemian-like couple who were really sweet and the guy even gave me a pill that he said would relax me for my flight. I washed it down with a pint of Guinness (what else?) and proceeded to catch the bus to the airport as the pill was really starting to take effect. I had some time to kill so I sat down at a table in an airport pub with a pint of Guinness and promptly fell asleep, missing my flight. Shit. I woke up several hours after it had departed and, in a panic, scrambled to find a way to get to Glasgow. Fortunately, RyanAir is dirt cheap and I was able to get a reasonably-priced, last-minute flight the next morning.
All in all, my first Irish experience was a positive one. Looking back, I was starry eyed and invincible, awestruck and trusting to a fault. I walked the streets of Dublin as if they were my own and I hadn't a care in the world. All of these illusions would disintegrate and float off into random shards of fuzzy memories as my European adventure continued, and by time I would return to Dublin, the city would take on a whole new light.
Stay tuned for Part 2.
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