Everything in Dublin is green (unless it’s grey). From the stamp soaking into my passport page to the lights illuminating the building and signs leading into town, there’s a deliberate emerald glow to everything. It almost feels like a forced smile from the city. “Ha-ha,” Dublin seems to say. “Leprechauns threw up all over everything. Sh-sh-sh-shar shar! Now drink our Guinness and hush up.”We took a bus tour to the Wild Atlantic Way, then to the Burren, and then the Cliffs of Moher. I feel like I should have taken more photos of the cliffs (what else would I ever get to see that would be so picturesque?), but it just didn’t seem right. Besides the fact that I forgot to pack my DSLR for the weekend and I don’t have much luck with iPhones and harsh lighting, it just seemed wrong to try to limit the experience to a few shitty pictures when, surely, I would enjoy it more if I just concentrated on being there and, I don’t know, breathing or something. Then again, you might be scrolling through this post and thinking,“Okay, I get it. There were cliffs.”Dublin is a quiet little city. (In the daytime, anyway. We didn’t check out the pub scene once the sun went down). We spent all of the next day strolling through the misty streets, ducking in and out of markets, teashops, a pub for the obligatory Guinness, some vintage stores, and a park filled with vicious birds. Also, I had the most largest scones, the fanciest water, and the most delicious sausages in my life at tourist hive Avoca. What more could you ask for, really?
It’s been a real treat to see different cities decorated for Christmas. Dublin’s city centre got set up only a few days before I arrived—apparently a few days later than they were initially promised. This, I’m told, is the Irish way:
“What, laid back?”
“No: never on time.”