Back from The Island

Seeing as my blog tactics have worked to get out a mass publication of my travels, here is an update from my trip a week ago.

Upon arriving in Irelandia (Ireland, the Island, the Green Isle) we were blasted off the steps of the aircraft by gusts of frigid wind, taking our hair in all directions and causing us to grasp tightly to our coat collars for warmth. Thank the lord for gloves, was all I could think. The bus trip to the center of town took no time at all. We hopped off the bus and proceeded to wander about town with a mediocre map, trying to find our hostel. We found that the city of Dublin had bested us before we even began – the streets had about three names each, starting with one, continuing for a few blocks, then turning into another and then another without so much as a warning or a turn. Straight streets with three titles but only one direction deceived us into going about 3 wrong directions before finally realizing through trial and error which direction we ought to be going.

While wandering the streets I ran into Shane and Lindsey! Go figure, in such a large city within less than 15 minutes of us being there I should run smack into the one person I knew in the entire country. He helped us get our bearings and then we continued in our separate ways, as we had to drop our bags and they were already on their way out for a Guinness.

Our hostel was mediocre at best, it’s highlight being the pointedly attractive and friendly front desk boy who helped us check in. We slept in a room with about 20 bunk beds and a menagerie of other female travelers, whom we never once saw awake. They were napping when we arrived, sleeping when we got home at night, and still sleeping when we went out each morning. By the time our last night arrived in Dublin I was so disappointed at not meeting people during our stay in the hostel that I went downstairs by myself to see who I could mingle with and ended up with two email addresses and quite a few compliments from a few male travelers, both of which were foreign and fluent in over three languages. I went to bed that night feeling a combination of victorious mingling and linguistic inadequacy. Damn America for it’s one-track language program.

Our days were spent rising early, enjoying coffee and muffins at a local cafe (which we frequented about 7 times in our two days), and then touring about the city and surrounding countryside. The day of our arrival we simply wandered the city on foot, finally figuring out the city streets and various neighborhoods, such as Temple Bar. We found Trinity College, also, which is somewhat of an abroad sister college with Berkeley. They even have a Berkeley Library on campus and a golden globe statue that we have on our campus (if you see photos online you will know which one I am talking about). The buildings were very impressive and the campus overall very small, but quaint.

On our second day we took a bus tour through the Wicklow Mountains, where we saw the ruins of an old monastery and several lakes and waterfalls. The monastery used to grant safety to those in need, but once you entered you could not leave for a year, all the while having to help clear your soul of the problems that led you to seek the safety of its walls in the first place. The cemetery was filled with ancient tombstones and celtic crosses, all with faded names and dates grown over with moss. We hiked to a lake above the cemetery and allowed ourselves some time to take in the scenery. Along the way we took detours through the woods, marshes, and up to a waterfall in the foothills. The landscapes and natural formations in Ireland are breathtaking, and I can honestly say that I did not know that green of that hue existed in real life.

While we were there we were confused at one particular phenomenon: the place seemed overrun with men in kilts. From the moment we got off the airplane we noticed it - one of my friends claimed that there must be a "convention of some sort" taking place. We asked around and finally figured out that Scotland was playing Ireland in rugby on Saturday, which apparently was a big deal in Scotland (bigger than in Ireland). All the Scottish came down to watch the game and of course sported their colors as all true Scottsmen do - by wearing plaid skirts and sporens (the little furry purses on the front, which I actually found out they use to keep cell phones and wallets). Every night we rubbed elbows with these guys, all of whom were the friendliest men I have met anywhere in the world. The first night we met some who were lawyers and grad students in Scotland. We drank beer with them and they taught us to sing songs of Scottish pride, which oddly enough included "Do, a Deer" from The Sound of Music. We met several Irish locals in our nights there as well, whom we sampled tall (and small) glasses of Guinness with and danced with. One even showed me how to do an Irish jig, and not the kind that I usually make up in imitation of Riverdance, but the real kind that they do in pubs when celebrating a victory like the kind they had over Scotland's rugby team.

Overall the people were nice, the weather was cold, the food was traditional, and the beer and song was abundant. We left with aching feet and smiles still gripping our faces from the fun we had enjoyed in the land of leprechauns and laddies. The whole way home we made plans of how we could come back to work, or go to law school, or marry an Irishman and live there the rest of our days. I would love to go back someday when I have more time and money to explore the rest of the island. For a weekend trip, however, I could not have asked for a better time.