the hydranchula goes to ireland is a series of posts i'm writing during my j term study abroad in dublin, ireland. these posts will look a little different because they will have proper capitalization and pictures because professors like proper capitalization and pictures. please follow me on instagram to see what i'm eating and drinking up to every day.
Dublin Day 4:
Dublin day four was not very interesting. We may or may not
have gone out to Temple Bar (which is a very popular street full of pubs and restaurants, even a TGI Friday's) the night before and had a few glasses of cider. So
on the fourth day, we slept until 15.00 (3 p.m.).
We had dinner that night as a class with a local journalist who spoke to us about what it is like to be a Journalist in Ireland.
The dinner itself was very good. We keep eating this
vegetable soup, which is more like a creamed vegetable soup. It sounds healthy,
but it is probably not because it is so delicious.
After dinner, because we slept all day, we went straight to
bed and didn’t wake up until we had to.
Dublin Day 5:
Since the class started, our days are not very eventful. We
meet lots of interesting people that have lots of interesting things to say, but
it’s all very educational.
We had a bit of free time between our morning class and
dinner, so a few of use decided to try and see some of the National Museums.
After walking around the park, following the street signs for the museums, we
got a little turned around. What would take Google Maps five minutes to walk
to, takes us 20 minutes to walk to.
But we found our way. We walked through a door toward what I
thought was a reception desk. There was a Garda officer (Irish Police officer)
standing at the door. I thought it was weird, but I ignored it. We walked up
to the reception desk. The man behind the desk asked us if he could help us.
“Oh, we just want to see the museum,” Alex said. He told us
the museum was the next building over.
“Oh. Well, what’s this building?”
“This is Parliament.”
Whoops! We turned around and left as fast as we could,
trying to hold in our giggles. I guessed this was the type of thing that made
Americans look stupid in other countries. Only we would think that an official
government building, armed by multiple police and large gates, could be a
museum.
We went to the Arlington Hotel for dinner and a show that
night. I wasn’t very interested in it because the dinner was Irish (and the
vegetarian options at authentic Irish restaurants often, for lack of a better word, suck) and the show was a
mash-up of traditional Irish music and dance. I was into the music, but not
necessarily the dancing.
After spending enough (not a significant amount of time, but
enough) of my childhood following around a friend whose family danced, all I
could picture this show being was a bunch of twelve-year-old girls lined up in
green dresses, throwing their feet on hardwood. I wasn’t feeling it.
For many people, I think the food was very good. But I think that I made terrible menu choices, and I ended up being very hungry. The
dessert was good, even though there was no cobbler or crumble option.
I tried to drag my eating out as long as I could. I figured
I could distract myself from the terrible show if I had something in front of
me to hold my attention. It worked, for a bit. I played “find the potato” in my
little pot of vegetarian chili until the music started.
One of my favorite things about Irish music is the storytelling that goes along with it. A song is never just a song, it's always a story. Stories of love and loss and drinking lots of alcohol.
And then the dancers came. They jumped up on stage, and as
much as I wanted to dislike it, all the pounding and the kicking and the
sparkling outfits, I kind of loved it.
I was a bit sad when the show ended, but I was excited to go
to bed. We met for dinner around 19.00 (7 p.m.), and it didn’t end until 22.30
(10:30 p.m.). We’d been awake since
08:00 (8 a.m.), and I was exhausted.
So, of course, we went out to Temple Bar.
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