Saint Patrick’s Day found us in Dublin, Ireland.
Where do I even begin?
The Irish are a breed all their own, and have turned drinking into an art form. Obviously the holiday brought a mix of locals and tourists together into one chaotic wonderful mess and we had a blast. My friend Colleen who is studying in Barcelona, has an Irish friend who lives in Dublin, and we were lucky enough to be able to stay with her. Having someone who knew her way around the city and knew what she was doing was a huge help. We were dead by the end of the weekend because they literally do not stop.
They were already drinking when we arrived on Thursday afternoon, drank all day and night, and when we woke up the next morning to go sightseeing they were still drinking. They napped during the day and were already drinking by the time we got home Friday evening. After going out, we woke up Saturday morning relieved to see that they had actually slept the night before. They were prepared to go out again Saturday night. We, however, had to leave for the airport at 4:30am Sunday morning and thankfully were able to convince them to stay in, where they proceeded to drink and stay up until we left. Did I mention that almost everyone we met in Ireland chain smokes cigarettes?
It’s now a full week later and I’m still recovering from that experience, and I think there is still an excess of second-hand smoke in my lungs. I guess I don’t have what it takes to hang with the Irish..
P.S. Not liking Guinness is NOT acceptable in Ireland. When my dear friend Kim asked for a complimentary water instead of the complimentary Guinness at the Guinness factory, she was given a questioning look and told, “But love, there’s water in Guinness?!”