Dublin

As I said, at 3.55 my alarm sounded for the start of a very long whirlwind day in Dublin. At 6.20 we took off, I reluctantly turned off my data roaming having been told twice by the air hostess (I think she'd have been more sympathetic if she know turning off my data roaming meant goodbye to my straightforward access to the rest of the world until Christmas) and in 40 minutes we had landed in Dublin. The skies were blue, and having been told in absolute certainty it would be raining in Ireland, I felt smug and my distress at leaving home eased a little. 

leaving Leeds behind as the sun comes up

Setting out into the city, in my new boots, I was struck that it was unlike anywhere I had ever been. In this city you could feel the strength of the Irish love and pride for their country and their culture in every way you turned. It wasn't too privileged, yet it wasn't impoverished, and once you stepped out into the city you felt a part of the city. You could see it was rough, unlike some of the sanitised tourist cities in England, but unlike Marseille, that stank of poverty and desperation, it was charming. It short, it was a rough diamond. 

For the first time in my life, my map reading skills failed me entirely in Dublin, and we walked a circle through Temple Bar, City Hall, Christchurch Cathedral and Dublin Castle three times while I tried to lead us into the medieval town. My plan was to head to Bewley's Tea Rooms- the Betty's of Dunlin according to my father- for lunch. Well. I can save anyone the trouble of trekking to Bewley's in future. I am aware, I like to fly the flag for Betty's but Bewley's didn't even come up to Vodka Revolution food standards, and it cost an arm and a leg more. I paid 16€ for the privilege of a soggy bruschetta and over sweet chocolate cake and I don't think I'm a tough food critic. I hope anyone who reads this and goes to Dublin, heeds my advice and searches for a worthier place to spend their money for lunch. 

Christchurch Cathedral

obligatory photo in the grounds of Dublin Castle, with obligatory green scarf

After lunch, rather than face further shame of admitting to the others we had been walking in the wrong direction for 15 minutes, I handed the map over to Becca and we went in the direction of Trinity College. Trinity college was founded in the 1500s, modelled on Oxford and Cambridge and is Ireland's oldest university. It was a highlight of Dublin for me and awe inspiring to wander through the beautiful architecture of the buildings, rather Hogwarts-esque, amongst the many students for whom it was just another day. 

We then went back to the hostel to check in, freshen up, drop off luggage, use the wifi and then made our way back out, women on a mission to find some Guinness. I had been advised from many people trying the Irish Guinness is critical, because of the way they pour it, and use nitrogen to make it as thick and creamy as possible (at least that's what I understood). We stopped at a highly recommended pub in temple bar, the Auld Dubliner and ordered three Guinnesses which we drank and listened sleepily to the live music and the raucous atmosphere. For dinner we crossed the road to the Elephant and Castle which is very popular and very highly recommended restaurant and had substandard overcooked burgers- no comment on this one, I discovered this weekend, either we went to the wrong places or Irish food doesn't come up to scratch. 

you can see the Irish man playing live music behind us to my left.

And then, exhausted, we staggered back to the hostel, having booked a tour to the Cliffs of Moher in the morning, meaning a 6am start. We had a 6 bed girls dorm which meant sharing with three people we didn't know and... it was an experience, my first hostel experience. I had no idea what to expect but before getting into bed I strung up my bags and coats in elaborate places where they would be noisy and an effort to remove to make sure no one could rob me while I was asleep. I locked the door from the inside (which seemed like a logical decision) and got into bed with phone and money on my person. Then I lay there, rigid and stiff as a board, wondering if I would wake up alive. 

It didn't take long for sleep to come and I must have been spark out for a while before I heard the door rattling and loud bangs. For a while I lay, paralyzed half by sleep and half by fear wondering what was going to happen when the noise subsided and again I started to drift away again. And then the banging was louder and more insistent and there was a male voice, and I was just wondering whether to climb out of the window when I heard Katie get up and open the door. The night porter explained tersely the door shouldn't have been locked from the inside, and I realised slowly my mistake, considered confessing, but turned over and went peacefully back to sleep. Or not. The next time I was woken was by shouting in the street, just below the open window. An Irish man seemed to be having a loud angry argument with somebody, except nobody was replying and lying awake, listening for what seemed like a good 45 minutes, my emotions rambling between, fear, exhaustion, shock, irritation and panic, I came to the conclusion he must have been mad. His vocabulary was more than colourful and a few death threats were thrown in as well and my mind wondered vaguely how I'd come so far from York, before deciding it was a character building experience and slowly drifting back to sleep.