I Love Ireland

I just got back from an amazing trip to Ireland. I had been to Dublin before, and it's one of my favorite cities in the world. Now I'm in love with the whole country. The whole reason for going was to make a pilgrimage of sorts to see a U2 show in Dublin. The fun started on the flight. About three-fourths of the people on the plane from New York to Dublin were going over for the concerts. In Dublin, I have never seen so many U2 t-shirts walking around one place, and U2 music was coming out of just about every pub in the city (and, being Dublin, that's a lot of pubs). Going to Dublin felt like a sort of homecoming for me, and having the streets packed with fellow fanatics just made it better. The concerts (yes, I went to two of them) were absolutely fantastic—even more than I had dreamed they would be. They were more like tribal gatherings than concerts, with people from all over the world coming together for one magnificent event. I sang myself hoarse with tears in my eyes and loved every minute of it.

Then it was off to the Irish countryside. I've been in love with the green Ireland hills and dramatic Irish coastlines of my imagination for a long time, and luckily the real thing didn't disappoint. The hills really are as green as the pictures suggest, and the coastlines are just as dramatic as they are in all of those travel shows I've seen.
The Cliffs of Moher and the Giant's Causeway had both been on my things to see before I die list, and they were incredible. Pictures don't do them justice, but I'll share some just for fun.

I also love that there's history around every bend in the road. You never know when you're going to run into a castle or a wedge tomb from prehistoric times or a thatch-roofed cottage. And speaking of bends in the road, there are a lot of them, and on very tiny roads. I was the lucky one who got to drive on the wrong side of those skinny little roads. Irish drivers are completely nuts, but there's a reason for that: the speed limits are completely nuts. Imagine going 100 km per hour on a winding road that's barely big enough for two small cars to pass. Then throw in an odd tour bus and traffic jams caused by herds of sheep and goats (we actually ran into one of those—great fun), and you get the idea. I was quite proud of myself that I never ran into anything other than flowers and that it took me only two days to figure out which side of the steering wheel the turning indicator was on. (Apparently, that got stuck in my brain because I turned on the windshield wipers in my car three times yesterday while trying to change lanes.)

Now the Ireland of my dreams has become the Ireland of my reality. I am so grateful I was able to go and spend time wandering around the country with my mom and two great friends. The real Ireland is even better than the imaginary one because, for me at least, it will always be associated with a GPS named Fergie, a CD of Irish anthems that I still can't get out of my head, cereal boxes and bananas, and way too many memories to count. Thanks, Mom and Connie and Becky for going along for the ride. I can't wait to go back.