Either I had incited the wrath of the mighty Arctic Wind Gods this trip……. or Ireland is just like this in March.
I kid you not: 80% of my journey to Ireland was a constant struggle to breathe and a valiant battle with my own hair (I EVEN CHOPPED IT OFF RIGHT BEFORE THIS TRIP UGH)
All my GoPro selfies can be summed up by this extremely flattering photo montage:
The struggle. was. so. very. real.
If you see any selfies of me with okay-looking hair in this post, just know that it’s photoshop. I photoshopped in all the good hair.
(I didn’t actually but they were indeed rare occasions.)
But reeeeeewind – let’s start from the very beginning. Some background for this trip: I originally planned on a 3-week trip to Iceland and Iceland only. After all – everyone and their mothers seem to be making their way there, given how cheap WOW Air is to fly there nowadays (e.g. I paid $450 Roundtrip, checked luggage and all).
But then, knowing myself and how stir-crazy I tend to get on extended trips, I knew I needed to throw in some additional excitement in there.
WHY NOT GO TO THE OTHER I-LAND. Get it? Iceland? Ireland? I-land? Island? HA. HA. HAAA. HA. ha. …. ha. ha.
(geez tough crowd…)
Anyways, because I had already booked my roundtrip Iceland flights, I just decided to head to Ireland the day after flying to Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland. But that meant one night would be spent in Iceland.
I booked a hotel *pretty* close to the airport for that one night – it was advertised as 1.9km away.
My thoughts: “Hey, I mean, I have nothing to do that day – didn’t rent a car or anything – why don’t I just have EPICHAPPYADVENTURETIME and walk to my hotel straight out of the airport? WHO KNOWS if this is possible – I guess I’ll find out soon enough!”
-________-
Well first off – our flight landed at 3:40AM. And not just that, it took about 1.5 hours for me to retrieve my suitcase for what reason? NO IDEA.
Given it’s wintertime and Iceland is so far up the northern hemisphere, the sun wouldn’t rise until 8:30AM. So I resorted to just buy an overpriced juice and sandwich and sit there until 7:45AM when I would begin said trek.
And then 7:45 rolled around. LEGGO.
Here you are – witness the journey:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BRQMb9Pghmb/?taken-by=mendzzz
https://www.instagram.com/p/BRQSsWugO05/?taken-by=mendzzz
https://www.instagram.com/p/BRQTFgUgXRl/?taken-by=mendzzz
WHO KNEW ONE COULD *ACCIDENTALLY* HITCHHIKE?!
I literally ACCIDENTALLY – WITHOUT ANY INTENTION, EVEN REFUTING IT MANY TIMES – hitchhiked part of the way to my hotel.
……….. *shrug* “oops???”
Oh, btw, I checked GoogleMaps, the journey was actually a little more than 5 kms. I actually might’ve died if I tried to make that walk all by myself.
Them Arctic winds, I tell ya. They were after me alright.
So thank you, wonderful gals from Chicago who forced me into your car; you guys might’ve just rescued this stubborn, deserving Darwin Award recipient. The experience really showed me: y’know, with all the shit happening in the world these days, it’s nice to realize that people are still mostly good in the world. It was a comforting thought.
As you might’ve imagined, I was so exhausted and physically/psychologically spent by the time I arrived at my hotel at 10AM that all I did all day was eat a pack of tuna I brought from home (don’t ask why) and watch YouTube videos all day.
‘Twas the most excellent start to my trip, dontcha think???
I had to get up at 2AM anyway to catch my flight to Dublin.
And hear me out – I wised up and called a taxi to get to the airport because I was NOT going to have hitchhiking adventure part DEUX at the ungodly hour of 3AM in the stinging cold snow/wind again. See? Mendi can (sometimes) be not-so-dumb.
My taxi guy was a freaking SPEED DEMON on those icy roads. He got me to the airport in 5 minutes flat while I clutched helplessly to my seat whispering silent prayers. Sadly I paid a whopping $26 for this trip. For a 5 minute ride. Ridiculous. Hitchhiking suddenly sounds like an awesome idea, don’t it?
Bonus Fun Fact: This is what it looks like when they de-ice a plane!
So I get to Dublin around noon and I end up just walking around the city aimlessly.
I notice the following things about Dublin right off the bat: (1) Every single person seems to smoke, (2) No use bringing an umbrella when the winds are just like NOPE, and (3) Every restaurant claims the “best fish ‘n’ chips in town”. A rampant distrust of all this marketing set in and I decided to shirk Dublin’s fish ‘n’ chips and ended up trying their traditional fish pie instead. Which was…. exactly how you would imagine fish pie would taste.
……………………And with that cue, you know what time it is now. Oh, you definitely do.
……..IT’S FOOD COLLAGE TIME TEEEEEHEEEE
(I ended up getting fish ‘n’ chips in Galway – recommended by a local – IT WAS ACTUALLY THE BEST FISH ‘N’ CHIPS OF MY LIFE AND IT DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A SIGN MARKETING IT AS SUCH. You see, people, best let your food do the talking, knawmsayin?)
The next couple of days were devoted to getting out of Dublin. I had limited time in the country, so I decided book it to the western region of the Republic of Ireland (Cliffs of Moher and Galway); and then to the UK region of Northern Ireland – a completely separate country. Which, admittedly, I didn’t know was a thing until I got there. Geography/History was never my strong suit, heh.
First, the Cliffs of Moher. Amazing views…. but the wind – GOODNESS GRACIOUS THE DAMN WIND. You saw the uglies; here are the more normal photos:
Luckily, during the bulk of our visit it was raining and windy but it wasn’t a debilitating kind of rain. Totally doable, though I did look (and probably smell) like wet dog after. Part of the trail along the cliffs is unfenced, though, and our guide said about 1 person per month goes over the edge in a gust of wind. DEATH ENSUES.
After scoffing when he first mentioned it, I found myself on the cliff, standing – no, SLIPPING – around in the mud created by all the rain/general moisture… and yep, it makes sense. I absolutely didn’t want to be the one to fulfill their death quota this month. NOT TODAY. NOT. TODAY.
About 10 minutes after I sought shelter in the tourist center, I noticed a dense fog roll in from the ocean. You couldn’t see an inch of cliff thereafter. WHEW. Good thing it didn’t make a cameo earlier or else the long unending drive to the West would’ve been in vain.
Next up, we went to the adorable city of Galway. I hope it’s not offended when I call it adorable.
My favorite part was the abundance of buskers on the streets. All extremely talented! Reminded me of the amazing movie “Once”, depicting two struggling musicians in Dublin :).
…. Quick question: Is this racist at all?
The next day I was off to another country! Northern Ireland.
Sadly, jetlag was still plaguing my biological clock so I didn’t get a great night’s rest and ended up sleeping through most of the tour guide’s history lesson on the bus about how the split in Ireland came to be. (Ha, sounds like me in high school U.S. history.)
I did feel guilty for slacking, though (also sounds like me in high school)…. and when given the choice between touring the Titanic museum (it was built in the city of Belfast) or going on a Political History Tour of the city – I chose the latter.
BEST DECISION EVER, THOUGH. I had such an enlightening experience with our amazing tour guide Geordie in a classic black cab.
He gave us recounts of the political and military struggles between the Catholics and Protestants in this city.
So many peace-seeking murals around the city:
They even had to build this 25-foot wall to separate the different “sections” of the city. Originally, it was covered in hate messages for the “other side”. The government decided to step in and hire graffiti artists to cover the wall with messages of love and peace.
While he’s talking about the wall, Geordie pulls out these huge blue markers and asks me for my first initial.
“M,” I say meekly.
He then takes a marker and scribbles this HUMONGOUS “M” on the wall. “I often see people write these itty bitty microscopic messages on this wall. I WANT YOU TO GO AS BIG AS POSSIBLE.”
I stared on in horror. I’ve never graffiti’d anything in my life and he had carved out a HUUUUUGE M.
Clearly very uncomfortable with the situation, I realized there was no going back. I needed to finish what he had started.
Geordie then insisted I take this photo.
“You know, if the police catch you, it’s a 60 euro fine,” he remarks right after.
Again, I stared in horror.
“Why do you think I looked to see if any cars were coming?” he says nonchalantly.
PICTURE FOR SCALE OF MY INCRIMINATING GRAFFITI (that’s Geordie).
Oh yeah, and as you would imagine, even though this was supposed to be a wall of “peace messages”, it’s obviously a WALL. And you know any wall-talk across the globe will always circle back to………….
This is freaking disgusting….
I’m so glad someone added the correction in there:
PEOPLE SOMETIMES SUCK. Hey at least I saw this sign in Dublin the next day:
Oh yeah, I missed the Titanic museum but the building is an amazing architectural feat:
Afterwards, we decided to make some scenic coastal stops in Northern Ireland. First to Dunluce Castle, which was the setting for the House of Greyjoy in Game of Thrones! Almost couldn’t recognize it without the stormy dark weather, amiright?
Oh yeah, and wind (this is literally the best photo I could get…)
Another Bonus Fun Fact: Northern Ireland apparently hires more people to be extras in Game of Thrones than civil servants. LOL
We then went to the Giant’s Causeway, which is a UNESCO Heritage Site, with amazing coastal views, crashing waves, and geometric basalt columns. NATURE IS SO DAMN COOL!
Our last stop was supposed to be a place (whose name escapes me right now) where we could cross a bridge 100 ft above crashing waves. But like I mentioned… that damn wind REALLY doesn’t like me, so authorities actually closed the bridge for crossing.
(Bottom right photo is a park ranger “testing out” the bridge and promptly going YEAH NOPE.)
To appease grumpy unsatisfied tourists (jk we weren’t actually), our guides decided to make a bonus stop at the Dark Hedges – a road also used in Game of Thrones (to represent the Kingsroad that Arya traveled on).
That was a full…damn…day. I was SPEEEEENT. And desperately needed a drink.
…… so that’s what I did the entire next day (last day in Dublin).
FIRST GUINNESS, WHERE I LEARNED HOW TO POUR THE PERFECT PINT.
This is one of the weirder things I saw in the Guinness factory, with zero context/relevance:
Answer: “So like, not at all…..?”
ANYHOO, I literally wasted no time after this Guinness Tour. I immediately ran to yet another tour…. this time going a bit heavier on the ALC%…
(Did I not learn anything in college!? “Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear; Beer before liquor, never been sicker.”)
…. Yeah, I went to the Jameson factory. My favorite alcohol to take shots with (wait who said that not me)
Both of these tours had copious amounts of “tastings”, and then ended in a free drink.
I’m not exactly a heavyweight when it comes to alcohol consumption so…..
Yeeeeeeeeah. Very hungover the rest of the day AND the morning after, when I would be flying out of Dublin.
Couldn’t even look at the photos in my phone of Guinness or Jameson without triggering a gag reflex.
And that’s how I left the country of Ireland: Hungover and wind-burned. That’s how you’re supposed to do Ireland, right? (HAPPY ALMOST-ST. PATTY’S DAY Y’ALL)
…. I’m kidding I actually loved it.
With love,
Mendi
the wanderlust is real. 
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