Paris to Dublin to Dingle

For me, we've entered the truly nostalgic portion of the trip. I spent about 6 month going to school in Dublin 6 years ago, ending it with a three week bicycle trip up the west coast to Northern Ireland. I had visited a few of the places on our trip - Istanbul, Budapest, Prague, Paris - all for a few days each during my time abroad, but it's a totally different sensation revisiting the city that I was moving around every day for half a year. Quite bizarre in a lot of ways, feeling countless little familiarities flooding back as we wander around the center city; it feels a bit like a ghost city, with all the experiences from my first time really living abroad years ago feeling like distant foggy dreams (the city also famously haunted anyway, so my flowery analogy works). We had a long travel day getting to Dublin on Monday, checking out of our Paris hotel at 5am, catching the first metro of the morning (which is an eerie experience in itself), switching twice and then scrambling to the bus depot while other travelers dragging their carry on rollies started running ahead as if we were all competing for some last bus (which we weren't). Easy (and remarkably cheap - about $60 for the both of us) flight into Dublin, being quickly reminded as we descended towards the airport how incredibly green this country is. We grabbed the local bus from the airport to city center, and were dropped off right in front of the same hostel I stayed in when I first arrived in Dublin in 2006 before I found a place to live. It was clear pretty quickly driving down through the city how much has changed since I left. Ireland had been in a huge economic boom, struggling with overwhelming growth, investment, construction, and for the first time in their history, dealing with loads of immigration themselves. The skyline was completely crowded with cranes then, and I'm not sure I saw a single one during our three days back in the city. Maybe I'm just projecting my own dealing with memories of the place, but I swear the city felt a lot more somber. 

We didn't do a whole lot during our time there. I gave Cindhu an impromptu tour of my old university (it is seriously old), we spent some time lounging on St Stephen's green with the throngs of locals celebrating a rare sunny afternoon by getting a bit burnt, introduced her to some of my old favorite pubs, her first proper pint of Guinness, some shared fish and chips, and a bit of traditional music at my absolutely favorite pub tucked into an inconspicuous corner on the north side of Dublin. 

The old school

Many class breaks taken on this square

A bit of rare Irish sunshine on St Stephen's Green

Bank of Ireland, I remember opening an account here. 

St. Patrick's cathedral

River Liffey and the four courts

Every good pub needs a good dog at the door

We decided to devote the rest of our time before our ferry to the Isle of Man on June 3 to retracing bits of my cycling trip up the west coast. We had a bit of a snafu yesterday sorting out trains down to the southwest when we got to the station and realized the prices were double what they would have been online. After finagling some free wifi and buying tickets for the subsequent train down to Tralee, where we were to get a bus out to Dingle (I'm not making these names up, get used to it for the next few posts), but we realized all to late that the last bus to Dingle that we were counting on from the schedule, only runs on Fridays. We had talked a bit already about trying to hitchhike much of this portion of the trip (I had some success with it during parts of my trip years ago) and figured that it was at least worth a shot, there were several B&Bs and hostels in Tralee anyway if it didn't work out. Lo and behold, within a few minutes of finding a reasonable spot to hitch a ride to Dingle, a young couple in a little souped up Mitsubishi pulled over and offered to get us out to the main Dingle road. We hopped out at the edge of some cow pastures, and spent a few more minutes with our thumbs out, at the same time scoping out potential camping spots that would be safe from the view from the road and any stray cows. It couldn't have been more than 5 minutes before a couple of young guys out on a holiday from Dublin pulled over and generously offered to let us squeeze into their back seat with our bags and their friendly collie. We enjoyed a beautiful drive, some great conversation, a quick stop near Connors Pass (which allowed me to feel impressed with my 20 year old cycling self for having made it up the other side) and then dropped off at our hostel (of course where I stayed 6 years ago, again) in town. We wandered the quaint streets a bit, browsing menus and finally settling into a pub for some fish and chips and shepards pie (both fantastic versions). After the filling meal and a pint each (Guinness for me, Bulmers cider for Cindhu), we moved a few doors down to a pub I had remember fondly for great music and were promptly welcomed with the sound of a guitar and a set of beautifully played uilleann pipes. A few more pints and then off to bed. While Ireland may seem a little cliche for a nostalgic trip, I can't imagine any place better suited.

PS a huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY to mom - glad to be following in your Irish hitchhiking footsteps!