DAY 1.5 (since I'm running on Jetlag)

I soon realized that jorts were completely out of the question for this 50 degree weather. Thus, I threw on some decent pants and hit the streets of Dublin.

At first I simply went around and took pictures of a few historic landmarks and famous pubs, but then I really got into the “street life” of the Dublin community. It reminds me a lot of New York. People are hurrying in every which way, sprinting to beat each other to the nearest taxi line. You have your hobos on different corners trying to sale Irish flags; your business men in suits, rushing to Davy Byrnes (http://www.davybyrnes.com/) to have a few beers before dinner. And then you have your everyday people, clad in wool jackets and vintage type clothing (at least vintage looking for me). They’re friendly and helpful. A few stopped to direct me to the local Visitor’s Center while others told me the best places to each fish and chips.


I finally settled on Madigan’s for my very first Guinness of the trip. This is where I learned the most valuable lesson from pub owner and newfound friend- Jack. IRISH PEOPLE DON’T DRINK THE SAME AS AMERICANS. Drinking is so much more than a sport or hobby to them…it’s one of their main cultural passions. They don’t mess around here, and I as sat at the bar for about an hour sipping on my dark beer, two 60-year-old men downed three in the same time period.

Borderline. Guinness. Alcoholics.

This was my first thought as I walked out of Madigan’s, realizing that one beer was more than enough for me. As I turned the corner of O’Connell Street, I had somewhat of an epiphany. Drinking is a beautiful thing here. It’s not taken for granted and it’s somewhat what “food” is for Americans. Irish folk gather around pints of Guinness for a family night. They seek refuge at the local restaurant/pub for time spent with friends and gossip. They don’t sprint from bar to bar sucking down shots, trying to conquer 6th street and every dance floor known to man. They actually APPRECIATE their time to sip a Guinness and act responsibly while doing it. Lesson learned.

I ventured around seeking the nearest McDonald’s, and fell upon the Dublin Writer’s Museum. It was already closed, so I vowed to go back soon. Up ahead was the Gate Theatre (this one’s for you Mummsie). The play “Arcadia” was opening its curtains at 8pm, so I decided to go back to the hostel and take a nap before the production.
A $2 hamburger, swollen feet, and 29 traveling brochures later I ended up crashing around 5pm alongside three French girls in the room with me. Needless to say I didn’t make it to the production, but will for sure go back with our group.


*SIDENOTE- The video posted below is me completely delusional and jetlagged. Yes, I look exhausted, un-clean, and overall ridiculous. Please do not judge (mom-talking to you here).

Stephanie arrives tomorrow, so get prepared for the REAL blogging to begin…
Texas fight.