Katie's in Ireland!

Well, I believe I should start off by saying that this installment of “Matt’s in Ireland” is brought to you by a guest writer. It’s Katie. I’m currently on the plane heading back to South Bend after a fantastic week in Dublin. From what I’ve gathered, Matt’s been pretty “busy” across the pond and hasn’t had the time to update his loyal readers with the details of his adventures. But now that I’ve got a good twelve hours to kill before I reach the states, I can at least regale you all with some fun anecdotes from my week in Ireland.

My trip to Ireland was just as all intercontinental trips are – long. Coming off of a show closing and a painful week of midterms, I wasn’t particularly stoked for twenty hours of travel. But once I claimed my bag at the “temporary” terminal at the Dublin airport and saw Matt with his signature airport sunflowers, it made the whole day entirely worth it.

After a gourmet meal at Supermac's we made it back to UCD and I got to see my beloved roommate Kenzie (shout out!) who is also studying at UCD this semester. Kenz, Matt, Ali (one of my current roommates who came to Europe for fall break as well), and I did a whirlwind Dublin tour, with a stroll down Grafton Street, a lounge sesh in St. Stephen’s Green, an encounter with the Cheetah Man, and my first Ireland Guinness at Quay's Bar. We then met up with Maggie who suffered a hellacious travel day from London where she’s studying, grabbed some dinner, and shot the craic.

That reminds me, MATT FACT: Dublin has made our fine friend surprisingly city-saavy. About a year ago, we went to Chicago from Notre Dame one Saturday, and while we were walking, some homeless guy started asking Matt for money. Persistently. And being the generous guy he is, Matt entertained his antics, and pulled out his wallet. Now I, growing up in and around Washington D.C., abide by the “walk fast, pretend like you’re deaf” approach to city-strolling, and promptly pulled him away.

So outside of Quay’s, we were waiting for Kenzie and Ali, who had made a quick stop at the bathroom. I’m standing next to Matt and suddenly this guy slithers – yes, slithers – up to him and says, “want some cocaine?” I freeze up, completely disoriented and don’t know how to respond. But Matt calmly and coolly says, “no thanks.” and the guy scuttles away. In pure awe, I look at him and say, “does that happen often?” and he just laughed at me.

Matt and I traveled to Killarney on Saturday, which was a great introduction to Ireland. A charming, quaint town, Killarney is home to a beautiful national park and the Danny Mann Inn, famous for their All Day Breakfast until 3 pm. No joke. We spent the weekend with Corbin and Krissy soaking up Ireland.

I had a stunning revelation during my trip to Ireland - The food is really good. I began this trip with the preconceived notion that I was most likely going to starve since I will not eat unidentified “puddings” and if I have to cook for myself, I will normally make tuna salad or call Wheat Thins and cheese cubes dinner. However, I ate some of the best sandwiches here and experienced a lovely little cookie which has already been featured in this blog, the Digestive.

MATT FACT: He knows how to cook and is good at it. Talk about a good catch.

Monday was pretty interesting since I was on my own for a while since my Ireland guides were busy with things like “class” and “community service”. So I took the bus to city center with Kenzie and killed a good three hours taking in Dublin – I got a scone with butter and jam, did a lot of shopping (not buying), and managed to not get lost. I apparently looked so together that I got asked for directions, but then promptly blew my cover with my flustered look and obnoxious American accent.

Tuesday was a pretty chill day. The highlights: Edward Scissorhands, Dirty Rice, and Q Bar. It felt like a standard day as if I were actually studying abroad. Go to a little bit of class, make some dinner, learn how to play the native Irish sport “hurling” - which, I think Matt will vouch for me, I was born to play. Watch out Damien Fitzhenry. I still haven’t nailed down the correct gerund for the sport, playing hurling? going hurling? hurl? boot? chowder? - And then go out and have a few overpriced beers.

KATIE FACT: I am absolutely horrible luck in Ireland. It may be because I am genetically distant from Ireland and their stereotypical luck, but Wednesday it rained all day, and before I arrived, everyone had been shocked and amazed at how wonderful the weather had been thus far. Kenzie busted out her wellies for only the second time in two months. I’m sure the weather is absolutely glorious there now. I even saw the sun peeking out as my plane took off…

Despite the weather, Matt and I made a trek to Bray, a small coastal town about a half and hour outside of Dublin. I’m sure it would have been far more enjoyable if it wasn’t deserted and raining sideways because of the wind, but we found a lovely restaurant/bar, took an epic jumping photo, and headed back to Dublin for the pub crawl (make claw motion).

We started at Dawson’s,"Probably the smallest pub in the world", and it most likely is. The whole thing is about the size of three rooms in Morrissey Hall. We then hit O’Donaghue’s, The Oliver St John Gogarty Pub, and then Doyle’s, home of the Irish Heath Ledger and “the sleepy guy”, who we will now on refer to as “S.G.”. Heath was our bartender, and a good one at that. Well, he was about as good as any other bartender, but he looked a lot like Heath Ledger, which is definitely an upgrade from the creepy European guy at the previous bar who was twice my age and very persistent in asking me to dance. But back to "the sleepy guy": We first spotted S.G. sitting on a stool by himself in Doyle’s. He was doing the sleepy head bob – you know, that edge of sleep when you are asleep and then your head falls to the side or to the front and the sudden sensation of falling finally wakes you up, only to have it happen eight more times until you decide whatever you are trying to stay awake for just isn’t worth it. Well, not only was he committing this pub foul, he was on the phone at the same time, and holding a beer. After the third head-bob wake-up, he fell asleep hard and proceeded to drop his beer on the floor. About five minutes later, he assessed his surroundings, clearly organizing reality and dreams, acknowledged his beerlessness, and moved to the bar for a little more support. While sitting at the bar, he noticed about ¾ of "probably the best beer in the world" - Carlsberg - about two and a half feet to his right, unattended. In his drunken stupor, S.G. begins his “stealthy” commandeering of another man’s beer, sloppily reaching down the bar and summoning it to his lips with a disturbing pucker and slurping sound. But Alas! S.G. succeeded. He clutched that Carlsberg like it was the last beer on earth, and nursed himself back to sleep.

Thursday was girl-bonding day with Kenz. She, Anne and I got crepes for lunch and then went to basically every store on Grafton Street. We had an early-evening dessert at Avoca, an Irish Anthropologie and then hit up Dunnes for some groceries. Matt and I made dinner, I got my packing done, and then hung out with some of his roommates and more of the Notre Dame UCD group. A much needed relaxing finale to a whirlwind trip.

So now I’m on a plane in Frankfurt, headed back to the states. For as wonderful as my trip was, the worst part was that I had to say my goodbyes all over again. My goodbye with Kenzie was short and sweet, because I knew that if she asked me to stay and live in her room illegally one more time I probably would have. Matt, being the wonderful guy we all know and love, accompanied me on the unpredictable bus trip out to the airport. I guess that’s why I have such a love-hate relationship with airports. At first, they make everything all better. After nine weeks, that dumpy little terminal in Dublin reunited me with my best friend, and just one short week later, that same building forced me into those horrible security checkpoint queues where I had to say goodbye again for another nine weeks. And for as sad as that goodbye was, I didn’t tear up until right now, but I know that soon enough I’ll see Matt in the airport again, holding sunflowers.