Lifestyle

I love me some Irish. Of course, you have to consider that I am married to an Irishman, so I might possess that recessive gene that is susceptible to their charms. I am crazy for the clever; wild about the wit; a self-proclaimed, unabashed, sucker for the funny.

So when James, our taxi driver in Dublin, took us on an impromptu tour of the city, offering his best recommendations for dining, shopping and drinking; he charmed my socks off. We had just arrived from a six-week stint living in Germany. Though I loved the beauty of Germany, I missed being able to really communicate with people, joking and having witty conversations. Ireland is the perfect remedy for such things. As we arrived at our rental flat, hubby pointed down the wide boulevard and asked, “So where is the nearest pub? Could we walk this way and find one?”

James, the raven-haired, green-eyed cab driver leveled his gaze at me. Something behind those eyes flashed, as the corners of his mouth turned up, ever-so-slightly. “Awww shure,” he replied, “Ye could walk down that way fer awhile….course ye’ll die a turst!” That became the favorite and oft-repeated line of the trip, “Let’s head to the pub, I’m dyin’ a turst.”

Dublin has become a travel hotspot for Europeans primarily because budget airline Ryan Air offers ridiculously cheap flights (less than $20 US) from most major cities. We talked to several people who had flown in for just a few hours, to carouse in the pubs and return home to Germany or France or Switzerland in the wee hours of the morning. We even saw a bride – in full bridal regalia – arriving in baggage claim at the Dublin airport. She and her whole wedding party had come from Frankfurt, fresh from the wedding ceremony, and were off to celebrate together in a pub. They would return to Frankfurt later that evening.

Additionally, the city is a wonderful tourist destination for singles, couples and families. Though I am usually not a fan of tour buses, the city tour of Dublin is fantastic. You pay for entrance once and can get on and off the bus at any of the stops throughout the day. Many people use it as transportation around the city. The tour itself was hilarious thanks to the clever Irish humor of the driver. In offering a little snapshot of local culture, he told us that the residents from North Dublin are considered a little “rough around the edges” when compared to the sophisticated folks from South Dublin. “Tis true,” he said, “A lassie from Dublin South would n’er date a boy from Dublin North– ‘cept a course, to get her handbag back.” We made many loops around the city, feeding our hunger to hear English, understand the jokes and laugh.

After a few days of pubs, churches, pubs, castles and pubs, we decided it was time for a little nature. The city of Dublin has a great train system and we took it along the coast (great views for the price of a train ticket) to a small seaside village called Bray. From there we hiked seven kilometers along the coast to a city just north called Grey Stones. This well-marked, hiking path hugs the walls of the tallest cliffs on the east coast of Ireland. The spectacular vistas allow you to appreciate the rugged coastline as it snakes out into North Atlantic, as well as the dizzying drop-offs to the seashore below. There are ruins of ancient stone walls, all grey and crumbling and spotted with moss, offering great photo opportunities. This easy hike took about two hours and provided just enough physical challenge to make me feel deserving of another Guinness and a hearty bowl of Irish stew in a cozy, local pub. Afterwards, we just hopped on the train for a restful ride back into Dublin.

The kids really enjoyed Dublinia, an underground museum and heritage city. This is a children’s museum of sorts that has re-created a historical version of Dublinia and the Viking World, complete with the sights, sounds and smells of the 1200-1600s. There were chainmail helmets to try on at the blacksmith’s shop, herbs and potions to smell at the medicine shop, and at the “pie-stall,” there were replicas of popular street food to chuck at each other. “Incoming entrails!” was the often-heard battle-cry of the Nolan children. (I blame the museum’s glorification of conquering Viking tribes for that unfortunate bit of misbehavior.)

The grown-ups enjoyed the tour of the Jameson Distillery and the Guinness factory, but mostly the live music in the pubs. Talented musicians walk around the city each evening, carrying their instruments (fiddles, drums, guitars, accordions) and break into impromptu jam sessions in neighborhood pubs. Sometimes they know each other, sometimes they don’t, but all are welcome to participate.

I think my middle son said it best. Upon arrival in the Dublin airport when he began to hear the lilt of those Irish accents, see the red-headed, green-eyed girls, with their freckles and dimples, he turned to me and said, “This is it Mom, these are my people.”

“Mine too baby…mine too.”