The first leg of the journey is already going really well. Flying from Leeds to Dublin was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. The flight literally lasted about half-an-hour (so much for sleeping on the plane) and security and everything was just a snap (especially since I’m not from an EU country and the Non-EU cue is almost non-existent). I was excited to get my first real passport stamp as well. Thus far my passport was naked save for my England Visa and I wanted to join the “brag about my adventures through passport stamps club.” In all my exuberance however I met Dublin’s most irritated immigration guard.

Brandon: (Brandon hands the immigration officer his passport) “Hello, how are you this morning?”
Guard 1: (Rolls eyes as he begrudgingly takes Brandon’s passport) “How many days will you be in Dublin?” (The Irish accented words seem to just leak out of his lips, as if he can’t be bothered to actually speak them.)
Brandon: (Seemingly oblivious to the guards mood) “Oh, just a couple.”
Guard 1: (Spoken louder this time with even less patience) “How many days will you be in Dublin?”
Brandon: (Louder and more clearly) “Just a couple.”
Guard 1: (All patience is lost at this point and his tone proves it) “HOW MANY DAYS WILL YOU BE IN DUBLIN?”
Brandon: (clearly uncertain if the man has a hearing problem, or just mental problems) “Couple? A couple of days.”
Guard 1: (as if he is trying to censor himself from swearing at me) HOW MANY DAYS SPECIFICLY?
Brandon: “Two… a couple means two.”
Guard 1: (spits out the words) “A couple can mean a lot of things.” (His disgust for Brandon is evident. In an attempt to get him out of his sight stamps Brandon’s passport so lightly that you can barely read it. It’s almost as if his hand will not let him apply the correct amount of pressure because then he would have lost his authority over Brandon.)

(Brandon considers asking for a more legible stamp, calculates the odds of a favorable response, and then decides to leave the airport before the guard has him strip-searched in an egomaniacal over indulgence of abused authority.)

I share this experience because this man was the only unfriendly man in all of Dublin. As I entered the city I was really surprised. I guess in my head I pictured Dublin as an Irish London, bustling and huge. It is not. Dublin is a whole lot smaller and has a very different feel to it. It doesn’t feel like a big city at all, and is not nearly as pretty as I imagined. In fact it’s just kind of a dingy grey color lacking in aesthetics. But what is beautiful about Dublin is the people. They are amazingly friendly no matter where you go. Go into a pub and after one pint if you don’t have 6 new friends you aren’t trying. After two pints if you aren’t part of the huge sing-a-long groups or in a jig circle you really aren’t trying.

Dublin is such a drinking culture. I defy you to go a block with out finding a pub full of people. Pubs are the Starbucks of Dublin. And for good reason, after all they have some amazing drinks: Irish Cream, delicious Whisky, and of course Guinness.

Just to fulfill my cheesy touristy stereotype of Dublin, the first thing I did was get Irish stew (that had Guinness in it) and a pint of the ol’ black beauty herself. I’ve always thought that the old “Guinness tastes better in Ireland” belief was rubbish, but when I saw my pint glass my mind was changed. Not only did my Guinness look picture perfect with flawless foam and a slightly darker complexion, but it tasted absolutely amazing. I wouldn’t have believed it, but it really really was THE single greatest pint I’ve ever had. Every sip brought flavors and delight beyond anything I have known to come from a beer. I was sold, Guinness can’t get any better than this! But then the next day I was proven wrong.

I went to the Guinness storehouse. The home of Guinness since (insert forgettable date here) where the brew is still made. Waiting for the tour was terribly exciting. I’ve always liked Guinness but after the previous days insight into what Guinness really tastes like I was just plain giddy. It felt reminiscent of finding a golden ticket in my candy bar wrapper. This place really was Wonka’s factory for the drinking aged. They walk you through the interesting process of how Guinness is made and then it’s history. Although most would dismiss this as being boring, for me it deepened my appreciation for the beverage. And it’s appreciation and insight of the tall, dark, and handsome liquid that makes it so much better. The Guinness in the Guinness storehouse is enough to make a grown man cry. Every taste of it makes you close your eyes and love life. There is nothing as smooth in this world. After each drink I’d take in a deep breath feeling how women must feel after biting into the most exquisite chocolate they’ve ever tasted. The best part is that they give you a free pint at the end of the tour and typically there will be someone who went on the tour who mind numbingly doesn’t like Guinness and will give you their free token. Were one so inclined I imagine you could stay there all day drinking for free. Although tempted to do just this, I had live traditional music to see, and adventures to create.

And so that’s what Dublin was for me, a collection of pubs, cafes, shopping, some famous land marks, but mostly the fun and friendly people you meet. So my advice to any traveling there would be to go with the mindset of going there for the people. The city isn’t terribly pretty and the famous landmarks are a bit boring but the people make the place. If you want something pretty you should go to the south coast or the smaller towns. One caution to ladies however is that in Dublin men seemed to out number females 5 to 1. Not that it is necessarily a bad thing, but they can sometimes be very very friendly with girls. And since there are so many they will just swarm them. I’m still debating whether or not I should have thrown a well-placed right hook into a bloke for his ungentlemanly behavior. I’m pretty certain I should have…. Just be careful OK?

Dublin footnotes…

Please remember that I was only in the city for less then 2 days. There is much I probably didn’t see. If I had more time I would have loved to go on a Joyce tour. I read Dubliners not long before I came and it’d be neat to see all the localities first hand.

Also I realized upon arrival to Dublin that I knew nearly nothing of who Saint Patrick actually was. All I knew is he has his own holiday in which I was pinched for not wearing green. But now I know this:

Saint Patrick, though actually born in Britain, is the patron saint of Ireland. When he was sixteen he was captured by Irish raiders and taken as a slave to Ireland, where he lived for six years before escaping. He later returned to Ireland as a missionary, working in the north and west of the island.

Supposedly Patrick, banished snakes from the Ireland, but post-glacial Ireland never actually had snakes so um… good job? Legend also credits Patrick with teaching the Irish about the concept of the Trinity by showing people the shamrock, a 3-leaved clover, using it to highlight the belief of ‘three divine persons in the one God.’ This was later exaggerated even more with the thought that Saint Patrick introduced shamrocks to Ireland.

It makes me wonder how different Dublin would be without Author Guinness and Saint Patrick.