
Imagine this incredible annoyance for a second: Every 50 feet you pass a bar and hear the loud sounds of someone with a guitar playing "She'll Be Coming Around The Mountain", "Yankee Doodle Dandy", "I've Been Working on the Railroad" and "Turkey in the Straw." Replace those American standards with Irish ones and you have Temple Bar in Dublin; a combination Key West, Amsterdam (without the hookers and weed) with all the authenticity of Times Square 2009.
The amount of Bachelorette or Hen Parties is mind blowing and mind numbing. We're exhausted our first night, but decide to do as the Romans do and pub crawl. It's all a blur of cackling hens in matching outfits singing loudly, drunken men trying to muster up the courage to talk to a woman, sweaty tourists young and old. I think we might hate it here.
I've never been to a place where the disparity of the sexes in the looks department is so great. There is no other place in the world where the men are so much better looking than the women. Even with their awful short and combed forward haircuts and sporty attire, the average guy here is much better looking than me and I'm the barometer for average. My girl is without a doubt the best looking woman in the country. I get reprimanded for checking a girl out by wifey; I had too much to drink and there was an epic ass in tight jeans bouncing along right in front of me. Was I supposed to look away?
I honestly don't know how people manage to reproduce here. There are young women in scandalously slutty outfits (but without makeup) prancing around in a city full of drunk dudes and no one is talking to them or giving them any attention. An outfit that would get a chick so much unwanted attention in NYC that she'd rather wear a burka goes unnoticed here.
Dubliners are wittier than Americans, even witty Americans.
Fuck Me...The Faith No More show is sold out. They haven't been here since '93, someone Irish deserves those tickets more than us.
Chocolate Biscuit Cake at the farmer's market is next level delicious.
After eating at Monte's of Kathmandu, I know why there are no Nepalese restaurants in New York. It's kind of like Indian food, but ruined by the addition of an awful spice. 8 pints of Carlsberg later and my burps could be weaponized and used to fight terrorists.
The city's motto should be "...But unfortunately." "Archaeologists found a thousand year old Viking village at this location, but unfortunately _______ decided to put an office building on the site." Failed rebellions, the global recession, a long history of horrendous decision making and poor planning lead to a slew of "But unfortunately's."
There is bacon everywhere and at any time. A person could eat bacon 3 meals a day if they choose. A bacon and cheddar toastie on a croissant is one of the beautiful things in life.
Dinner with family was fun. I have an excellent Carbonara sauce where they do it the right way instead of that shitty American way where it's a cream laden mess. The Irish bacon 'pancetta' helped.
We have the big drunk night out with an English tattoo artist and an local that looks like Mickey Dolenz we just met in the Auld Dubliner AKA The Auld Foreigner to locals. Whiskeys and lagers are coming at a pace that we can't keep up with. We have to bail before things get too out of hand. We probably left 2 drinks too late and get lectured on why we should have a son, argue with a Gypsy in the street and find myself involved in a conversation with a guy who might as well have 'gangster' stamped on his forehead and can't understand what he's saying through his think Dublin accent, he shakes my hand so I must have nodded at the right points. Lots of funny things happened, but I can't recall. I wish I had a voice recorder, because it was classic. The heavy traditional meal of Boxty, Potato Cake and Colcannon (think potatoes 3 ways) enabled our bodies to handle that amount of alcohol. You should try Boxty if you haven't had it. It's like an Irish burrito/thick crepe.
We do 3 bus tours, but didn't rock a fanny pack. We see the Wicklow mountains, city sights, some ancient things, a castle...you get the idea. It's not bad at all. F- all that live as a local BS you hear on the travel channel, doing thing like a tourist can be fun too.
I really liked it here. I also like the fact that we leave on a Friday afternoon, before Attila and the rest of the Hens invade.
1 comment:
i just learned 2.2 seconds ago that Ireland has the highest rate of schizophrenia. i find this blog...eyeopening!
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