Girl Meets World: décembre 2012

Looking back, getting home at three in the morning Friday night was probably not the wisest choice when I had a 9:15am flight to Dublin Saturday morning. However, in the moment, it was a unanimous decision that I was being the “responsible” one, leaving to go home. Everyone else went to another club, including Massimo, my friend I would be traveling there with. Leslie and I catch a cab back to my house and I double check that everything is ready for the morning. Everything packed, clothes laid out, 5:20am alarm set (or so I thought...).

Half awake and groggy eyed, I roll over and look at the clock. Closing my eyes and dozing ba..... SEVEN TWENTY-FOUR?!?! Flailing out of bed, startling Leslie half to death, I throw my (what I thought was) well pre-prepared clothes on, drop several F bombs, and panic trying to figure out a quick solution. With no better thought to cross my mind, I decide I just need to get to the airport as quickly as possible... I can still make it. Hailing a cab rather rapidly, I tell him to haul it to Beauvais. A quick smirk lit up the cab drivers face, as he knew this was going to make him a pretty penny.

The main airport in Paris is Charles de Gaulle, but flying out of Beauvais can be much cheaper depending on the destination. Inconvenient in every sense, I had an uphill battle cut out for me as I knew this hour long cab right would be cutting it down to the wire. This was the longest hour of my life as I sat in the back seat, sulking, staring at the clock as every minute changed too quickly. For the first time, I see my reflexion in the window and am completely embarrassed at the hot mess starting back at me. Hair everywhere, shirt on backwards, tears welling in my eyes... I’m just trying to keep my composure, telling myself, everything will work out, I’ve never missed a flight in my life, I’m going to make it!

... I didn’t make it.

Gates close at 8:45. I arrived at 8:42. They wouldn’t let me go through security. This definitely qualified as an example of being in agreeance with the common phrase that expats use here: “The only thing wrong with France is the French.” Being an hour outside Paris, with no other flights to Beauvais for the day, I do the only natural thing I can think of... cry. Now I know my looks at the moment weren’t going to win me any points, but not even my crocodile tears could help this debacle. Going outside to the 30 degree weather, I stand in line to purchase a bus ticket to take me back to Paris. What a spectacle/ train wreck/ source of entertainment I must have been to those around. As if this wasn’t bad enough, now I had to break the news to Max. Turns out, he didn’t even go to sleep and went straight to the airport after getting home from the club at seven in the morning. Maybe I should have stayed out... But his flight was now boarding as the Insomniac stands straddling the plane and boarding dock. I tell him to get on the plane and I’ll figure out a way to get there.

As in many other cases of uncertainty, confusion, or crisis, I call my savior Leslie. Still at my house, she gets on my laptop and books me a new flight leaving at four pm out of Charles de Gaulle. Sparing you the details of the rest of this mess, such as my credit card getting declined, issues getting through security, and being the last to board my new flight.... I MAKE IT TO DUBLIN!

Meeting Max at the hotel, we both just laugh at the situation as I apologize over and over again for my six hour delay. For the IRresponsible insomniac, things seemed to have worked out as he was finally able to get some shut eye while waiting for me to get there.

Enough of the “rubbish” part of the weekend, lets talk about the “lovely” part which truly was the remainder of the trip. Once I dropped my bags off, we ended up just strolling around the city which definitely exceeded my expectations, especially lit at night. We walked by Christ Church and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, making some wrong turns along the way, but finally getting over to a popular street lined with cute shops and restaurants. Walking into Against The Grain which our awesome receptionist had suggested, we instantly feel out of place, as the whole restaurant/bar is filled with people in christmas grab and ugly sweaters! It was great! W were ready to have our first Irish beer and this place in particular is well known for having beers from all over the world. Walking to the back, we realize the little place was packed, but luckily were able to snag a table just as a group was leaving (which seemed to be a theme all weekend). Enjoying the atmosphere and beer, it was great to finally breathe and start enjoying the trip. Massimo instantly recognizes the accent to our right and starts chatting it up with his fellow homelanders, Italia! Stomaches growling, we order beef and potato stew, which we later realize is everywhere in this city and for a good reason, the stuff is damn good!

After eating, we decide to head over to check off one of the main attractions... Temple Bar! In Dublin, the most lively, happening district is named Temple Bar. It’s promoted as “Dublin’s cultural quarter” and has preserved most of its medieval street pattern from the 17th century. In the heart of this area, is the appropriately named Temple Bar (Pub). Having a drink here was a must for me but one drink seemed to be enough for the both of us. Screaming to talk to each other over the loud music, I could only imagine what this place turns into after midnight. Once again, the theme of Christmas was apparent through everyones apparel. There wasn’t anything particularly special about this bar aside from the history and knowing it’s Dublin’s most famous bar but I’m glad I was able to see and say I’ve been there :)

Walking approximately twenty steps across the street, we were back at our hotel and were shocked as soon as we opened the door that led into the hotel bar. The place was sardines and just one big party! I didn’t know December 1st was going to be Dublin’s citywide Wear-Your-Ugly-Sweater-Day (not really but we weren’t totally sure). I never miss an opportunity to dress up, and the fact I have a killer ugly sweater back home, I was just simply depressed at this missed opportunity to rock it. Shoving past countless santas, elves, and even lit up christmas tree sweaters, we made our way to the upstairs bar to enjoy the rest of the night.

On a side note, I later asked our friendly receptionist what's up with the ugly sweaters and she looked a me so quizzically Turns out, they call them "Christmas Jumpers" in Ireland (and I'm pretty sure across the UK). Everywhere we walked they were on display for sale in all the store windows... I don't care where you're from, the things are still hideous (yet fabulous).

Waking up Sunday morning, I was already off to a better start than I had the previous day. Googling the closest Starbucks, we headed out for the day. Max works for Nespresso, so we had to camouflage him walking through the doors of my home away from home. Right next to this Starbucks was Trinity College which I was really looking forward to seeing. Once on campus, I was shocked at the actual size of the campus... it was so small! However, to Max, this place was huge. Cultural differences strike again. Either way, we both thought it was very cool to see. Next up we decided to to cross the Liffey River and stroll along O’Connell street (Dublin’s Champs-Elysees). One thing I loved about Dublin is the size of the city. It’s fairly small which gave it a more hometown feel. The river cuts directly through the middle and there are unique bridges about every 100 yards or so. One I read about and was eager to see was O’Connell’s bridge, which reviews seemed enthusiastic on talking about being the only bridge that is as wide as it is long. Once actually on the bridge, it now made sense to me why our receptionist (turned friend) was puzzled when I brought this up. There was nothing special about the bridge whatsoever. It actually is more of an overpass than a bridge but nevertheless, we had to take a picture on this “famous” bridge. O’Connell street and its neighboring alleys were all festively decorated which made the city feel that much more quaint and walking around, you couldn't help but embrace the holiday charm.

Next on the agenda was the highly anticipated, Guinness Storehouse! Since I had already had my “Heineken Experience” in Amsterdam, I had somewhat of an idea of what it would be like. In some ways they were similar. For instance, both places guided us through the beer making process and explained the history behind the product. But in most ways, they were different. There was no virtual brew tour/ride as there was at Heineken (which I was completely fine with), and I felt the whole factory had a much more authentic feel whereas Heineken was much more commercialized. Guinness did have an entire level devoted to their advertising but it was much more interesting and less in your face than Heineken. On the same floor, they had the history of how the “Guinness Book of World Record’s” came to be... in short, it involved a few Guinness employees being curious about the heaviest fish ever caught. Google it if interested. But hands down, the best part of the “Guinness Experience” was the Gravity Bar!

Before ascending to the very top, you pass their “Hall of Fame” wall with all the celebrities who have been there as well. From Obama to Clinton to Sean Penn to Queen Elizabeth II, everyone has cheer’ed here with their Guinness in hand. What makes the Gravity Bar so great is that it’s the highest view point of Dublin, with a 360 degree view of the city. This room alone made the 16 euro entrance fee worth it. Grabbing our beer that the skilled bartenders carve a shamrock on top of the foam, we found a pair of seats (just as people were getting up) and enjoyed the floor to ceiling view of Dublin.

We decided to walk down one floor and stay there for lunch. Again, chowing down on some beef and potato stew and yes, another beer. I was so full (and rather sick of beer by then), I felt like I needed a ramp to be rolled out of the Storehouse. Lunch was great though because we had a table with a view, and live music playing right next to us. Although Irish music is not what I have set on my iPod, I have to say, it’s fantastic! Listening to traditional Irish music with a banjo, bodhran (Irish drum), accordian, guitar, and violin, you can’t help but smile, knowing for certain which country you are in... more to come on this later.

We went back to the hotel to unwind and watched The X Factor for the 29th time. It was the British version but watching a show in English seemed so foreign to me! I was mesmerized, even if it was the same boy band singing over and over again. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how it will feel for me to be back in the states. Situations like these have made me realize how adaptive my life have been here, and going back, I’m preparing to feel a major rush of reverse culture shock. But just like being prepared for it when I moved here, you really don’t know what it will feel like until it’s happening.

Dinner time came and we found a great Gaudi-ish type pub called Turk’s Head. I was on a mission to find fish ‘n chips and all I can say is mission accomplished. One of my favorite authors, Frank McCourt, who wrote Angela’s Ashes, was born and raised in Limerick, Ireland. After reading all three of his books, I’ve had this picture in my head that all Irish people do is sit around in pubs, drink beer, and eat fish ‘n chips. And after being in Ireland, the reformed picture I have in my head is that all Irish people do is sit around in pubs, drink beer, and eat fish ‘n chips (or beef stew). Okay, this is not entirely true, but not far fetched either.

I finally had to wave my white flag at dinner to beer and switched to wine instead. That compliments fish ‘n chips, right? They had wine from both California and Italy, but it was a quick victory for me when Max said he’d never drank wine from Napa Valley. The verdict was out and the Italian liked it :)

Rounding out the trip last but certainly not least was that nights source of entertainment. Earlier in the day, we walked by the Arlington Hotel and saw an advertisement for their nightly Irish music and dancing show. Walking inside to talk to the receptionist, she informed us that you can reserve a spot for their three course dinner, or come around nine and try to get lucky finding a spot at the bar. As mentioned earlier, the seating God’s were on our side the entire weekend and this was no exception. Walking in at 9:05 free of charge, we pop a squat on the two lone bar stools situated directly in front of the stage.

The band had just begun to play and we we’re both blown away with not only how good they were, but how entertaining the whole show was! The five member band played all the classic Irish songs (which I knew maybe one of) and had the audience involved the entire time. On top of these guys, four Irish river dancers came out and danced different numbers throughout the night. The show in its entirety was authentic, genuine, and bona fide awesome. I couldn’t have imagined a better end to the trip. Walking back to the hotel after the show, we both agreed that was the best part of the weekend and is something I certainly will not forget.

Waking up bright and early Monday morning (after a restless night of sleep worrying about my alarm not going off again), we headed to the airport at a quarter to five. Aubree heading back to Paris, Max heading back to Switzerland where he currently lives and works. It’s weekends like these that make me feel unbelievably fortunate and blessed. A year ago, I would not have ever thought I’d be where I am today. And now today, I could never imagine being anywhere else. An American living in France... an Italian living in Switzerland... going to Ireland for a weekend trip. It’s exactly what this whole experience is about and I've loved every minute of it!