There aren't many things more badass than getting a huge, bright green stamp from Ireland on your passport on St. Patricks day. That stamp will forever be proof that I arrived in Ireland on March 17, 2011. After a long day of planes, trains and automobiles, we finally arrived at our destination, Galway, in the late afternoon of St Paddys day. After dropping our bags at the cute little hostel, we made our way into town in search of dinner. Little did we know, however, that the celebration had long since begun. We were bombarded with green everywhere: all green outfits, shamrock hats, glasses, wigs, and every other cheesy St Paddys gear you could imagine. Not wanting to stick out as tourists, we opted not to adorn our bodies in green shamrocks. So we became just dots of random color amongst the sea of green. At least they don't pinch for not wearing green in Ireland!
Instead of conducting a lengthy search for dinner, we decided to stop and ask the only group of people that didn't already look hammered. The lads we stopped were very nice, but informed us that at this time of night on Paddys day (7 pm) there is only beer to be found. They themselves were on their way to a pub and invited us along, as beer is a good substitute for food in their opinion, but we needed a good meal after a day of travelling, and ended up settling for a pizza by the slice stand. Eating our pizza outside, we were bombarded by drunkards excitedly asking where we got our pizza from. When we pointed up at the large PIZZA sign above our heads, they got ecstatic and ran in. We should have been paid for all the business we gave that pizza shop. Now, let me take a moment here to describe the scene of Paddys day in Ireland. I always thought the Irish could hold their liquor, but clearly that theory goes out the window on this day. The streets were literally packed with the most drunk people I have ever seen in my life. A large, green crowd of chaos ran the streets, amidst fire twirlers, drunken musicians, burly bouncers and debauchery. It certainly was a sight to be seen. Inside the pubs were even crazier. Fighting our way through the thick crowd, we bought our first Bulmers Irish cider and made our way to the stage, where a band was performing. The crowd proved too difficult, and it soon became a mosh pit of spilled beer. By the end of the night, we were all drenched in beer, reeking of God knows what, and just a little beat up from trying to fight our way through the crowds. All in the name of celebration!
Although we would have liked to sleep off the night by staying in the next day, we had booked a bus tour to the cliffs of moher that unfortunately left at 9:45 am. Feeling slightly nauseous, we listened as our bus driver excitedly told us about the landscape of the Burren and involved us in his bizarre, day long, desperate search for bunnies. It seemed as though he stopped short at every field, idling the bus in the middle of the street, desperately scouring the landscape attempting to distinguish the rabbits amongst the rabbit-shaped rocks. When we told our guide for the next day about our driver's odd obsession, he laughed ¨aye that must be Billy! I reckon he fancies himself like a rabbit¨. Despite its lack of bunnies, or shall I say abundance of sneaky rabbit-esque rocks, the landscape was beautiful, with rolling green hills separated by crumbling stone walls. My favorite spot of course had to be the cliffs, which broke off from the landscape into nothingness. Our tour for the next day provided with an entirely different, but equally beautiful landscape. More yellow than green, with small rounded mountains overpowering the landscape, the Connemara area is, as Oscar Wilde accurately describes it, ¨a savage beauty¨. Our less bunny obsessed driver told us stories of Irish folklore as he winded through the mountainous landscape, stopping every now and then for a photo op, or just a pretty thatched roof. Our main stop of the day was Kylemore Abbey, a former palace now converted into a home for nuns. The beautiful Abbey rises from the mountains across a wide lake, providing for beautiful photos despite the dreariness of the sky. We quickly explored the grounds and gardens before the rain settled in, and were thankful to get a warm lunch of soup before our bus ride back to the city.
Saturday night, we set out to the pubs again in search of a more tranquil night after St Paddys day. We returned to a bar we had been to on Thursday, The Front Door, where we stayed most of the night. Of course, no night out in Galway is complete without pizza, so we stopped at our favorite pizza stand around 2:30 for a late night bite. The pizza was so good, in fact, that Rachel ate her plate as well to soak up even more of the flavor (okay maybe not actually, but she did take a few accidental bites).
Sunday we took the day to actually explore Galway, which of course translates into eating a lot. We had an amazing lunch, went to a little tea shop for tea, and finally a bakery for cupcakes to tide us over on the train to Dublin. Our last night in Ireland was spent in the capital city, eating Mexican food and checking out one of the most famous bars there, Temple Bar. Finally tasting a real Guinness, poured the true, Irish way, we sat back and enjoyed the mellow cover band, reminiscing on a great trip.
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