Today a group of us got back from a three-day trip to Dublin, Ireland. No big deal, just went to Dublin for the weekend. I love being abroad! Instead of going to the Inner Harbor for the weekend, I get to fly to Ireland. (No offense Baltimore!) When I originally booked this trip, I had somewhat mixed feelings about it. My aunt got married in Ireland when I was 8, so I was hesitant to go to a country I had already visited. The wedding was in Adare, Ireland, so at least it wasn't the same place. And I figured traveling with my dysfunctional friends would be slightly different than traveling with my dysfunctional family, especially since I'm a few years older now. OH MY GOSHHHH what a difference! I was told to watch the movie PS I Love You before our trip, and between my large, alligator tears I managed to appreciate the accents and handsome, rugged Irishmen . . . uhhh, I mean the beautiful scenery and the culture. It got me much more pumped, but I still wasn't sure. Don't worry, I definitely changed my mind. Ireland was absolutely incredible.
First of all, our flight from Charleroi (Belgium) to Dublin was at 6:50am on Thursday morning, so we had to sleep in the airport on Wednesday night. That was an adventure all in itself, getting to the Leuven train station on time, biking like a maniac, my breath coming out in short spurts, my heart racing, trying to keep up with Nicole and Caroline, sprinting across the Brussels train station to try and catch the shuttle, and then a long, restless night attempting to sleep on the hard floor. It was like sleeping on a large, cold rock. A very uncomfortable rock. We sprawled out all over the floor, trying not to get in anyone’s way. I managed to get some shut eye, partially due to the large wool scarf I had covering my entire face, but most of the girls (and Steve and Dan, sorry for not mentioning you!) only got a half hour of sleep. It's all part of the experience right!
We arrived in Dublin around 10am, and, although we were exhausted, disgusting and grimy, we caught a free tour of Dublin and got to see the city. Our tour guide was hilarious (and not bad looking!) and his charisma and charm made the tour enjoyable. His beard was scruffy and orangy-red, while his hair was messy and light gray. He made gray handsome. He wore a jean shirt circa 1990, but somehow, it worked on him. His name was Ougen, pronounced Owen, and he started off his tour with jokes about his odd name. It was easy for him to laugh at himself, and he made others feel at ease. He had the carefree, I-just-woke-up-but-I-know-I’m-good-looking appeal going on. He had a different funny story for each place we stopped, and the three hours flew by. He was great. He knew tiny, seemingly insignificant facts about Dublin, and knew how to tell them in an amusing way. He was clever and charismatic, chatting about when Ireland’s poor contemplated eating babies and how a stuffed cat and mouse are more famous than the Vikings. I never knew that Dublin had so much rich history, and, although I’ve been on a zillion tours in the past month, none were as fun or interesting as this one.
We ended the tour at O'Neils, a local pub that gave large discounts to tours. I was peer pressured into getting a HUGE helping of Irish beef stew (beef and Guinness, a surprisingly delicious combination) and getting a ticket for a pub crawl the next night. Aleska (Katie's Polish roommate) wasn't feeling very well, so Nicole and I went back to the hostel with her to freshen up (aka finally shower and become somewhat humanized) while the rest of the group went to the Guinness factory.
The next morning, we woke up early (I'm really not a morning person) for our Paddywagon Cliffs of Moher tour. Again, I had mixed feelings about this tour, but it was one of the best parts of Ireland. While I love Dublin, it was very American-ized, and not what I expected Ireland to look like. The tour was EXACTLY how I pictured Ireland, with the rolling hills and rock fences. When I finally woke up from my three hour snooze, I stared longingly out of the opaque window, completely and totally flabbergasted. A few miscellaneous raindrops trickled down, adding to the overall emotion of the scene. All of this is real. I’m actually in Ireland right now and the grass really is this vivid and intense. Our tour guide talked excitedly in his charming accent, but I'll admit, I wasn't really listening. All I could focus on was the endless hills of growth and life, mixed with the light slate of the rock walls. The tour guide explained that there was no cement or any other type of adhesive used in these fences, because it wasn't invented at the time. The harsh winds haven’t destroyed them, because there is just enough room between the rocks for the wind to whistle through. It was straight out of a movie. The Paddywagon tour bus stopped at our first stop, and I was more than eager to get off the humid, smelly bus. The scenery was even more beautiful in person, and I was immediately overwhelmed, taking pictures left and right. I couldn't get enough. In between camera clicks I felt raindrops. The rain started slowly, coming out of nowhere, but picked up quickly, large drops of liquid splashing on the ground. The countryside was breathtaking, and exactly what I needed. We got to see all the different parts of Ireland, from the city to the country to the pub scene that night.
The next day, Aleska, Nicole and I went to the Guinness factory to learn how to pour the perfect pint, and get our free pint of Guinness. I am now a certified pro, but I'm not a big fan of Guinness. It's too heavy for me, almost sludgy. I prefer Stella. (Mom, I can talk as much as I want to about drinking, because not only am I completely legal in all European countries, I am also legal in America.) We ended the night in another pub, and left around 11 for the airport. Our flight back to Brussels was 7:50am this morning, so we spent another wonderful night in the airport. Luckily, the Dublin airport was slightly more accommodating than the Charleroi airport in Belgium, so we got to sleep on the booths outside of McDonalds. It was definitely not 5-star, but it was decent.
Overall, Ireland was a huge success.
But that's not all for this post! I promised you some Dutch, so here it is. Better late than never, right?
I know I'm kinda going a little backwards here, but it makes sense in some crazy way, so just go with it. Now, I'm sure some of you noticed that part of my title is in Dutch. Lets just say that after a week of intensive Dutch class (5 hours a day) and four hours a week since then, I'm relatively fluent. Ik ben Maeda. Ik woon in Leuven. Ik ben geboren in Virginia. Ik ben student, en ik studeer communicatiewettenschappen. I'm not joking, that's Dutch. It means I am Maeda. I live in Leuven. I was born in Virginia. I am a student, and I study communications. If German and English had an awkward one-night stand resulting in an unwanted pregnancy that nobody loved, it would be Dutch. Dutch is the most ridiculous language, but as much as I rag on it, I can't say that I hate it. It's not too difficult, but I can't shake the feeling that some of it has to be made up. There's no way that dit, dat and dank u are real words. If that's true, then my 14 year old sister is fluent in Dutch.
The UK (though I might be wrong in calling Dublin part of the UK... I am shamefully uneducated about Ireland) always has such wonderful tour guides!
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