These are pictures of the beach, and some from Sandymount.
Saturday night we started at a pub called The Porter House. It's in an area called Temple Bar, which is a large tourist attraction. We went and they had this strawberry beer that tasted like pop rocks, sprite, and apple juice all mixed together. It was a party for my taste buds, I loved it. Though I did not personally buy one of these beers in a pint, I had the pleasure of taste testing everyone's; to make sure there was nothing wrong with it of course. A pint ran you about 5 euro, while a glass (which is what I stick to now since my Irish lover told me that pints are not lady like) is only about 2.60 euro. Much more budget friendly for me seeing as I'm wasting away money like its sand at the beach. I have found that the first week abroad is a "get out of jail free" card in a way. You just make bad money decisions and then can just use the 'well it's my first week here, I don't know any better' excuse. This will all cease starting Monday. I am writing up a budget plan involving food costs, bus costs, and travel plans. Then the left over will be for fun purchases such as drinks. We'll see if this actually happens.
My friend Sarah and I decided it was our goal to meet as many locals as possible. We meandered up to this group of guys and started chatting. The guys I was talking to was named Kevin. I introduce myself and he asks where I go to school. I said UCD, and it's just a coincidence that he goes to Trinity. I didn't mention before, but Trinity and UCD are rivals. They hate each other, so clearly we are off on the wrong foot. Kevin gets over the fact that I am a UCD attendee, and we talk for about 15 more minutes until my beer runs out. I knew at this time that all our friends we came with had moved spots so we needed to go find them. Kevin offers to buy me a drink and I decline with the excuse that "I need to find my friends, sorry, but thank you." I am dumb. I have no made a serious mental etching into my brain that if someone offers you a drink, you take it. Feeling stupid, we walk over and find our friends in another corner on the opposite side of the pub. It seems to me the Americans are always the loudest people in the pub. And somehow, there is always a dance party revolving around a classic 90's song of my childhood. Tonight's tune of choice, Bad Touch by the Bloodhound Gang. I know every word, so I rapped and was in euphoria because this song was a staple my sophomore year of high school.
(All of us at The Porter House)
My friend Francesca had met a boy on Friday night who played in a band. We call him Guitar. Guitar strolls into the Porter House and says that he has mates over at this bar called Fitzsimons. I heard that he had mates and made the case that we should go over there and meet Guitar's band friends. What's there to lose when there are Irish men, in a band? We walk to Fitzsimons and it's packed. Sarah, Caitlin and I decide we're going to branch off yet again and talk to these three guys, who we think are locals. They are not. These three men hail from Germany, Spain and Italy. Now I thought there was a language barrier between myself and the Irish, but I was wrong. I had to try and speak three different languages to communicate with these people. I was so excited that this one boy was from Spain I took the liberty of pulling him aside and practicing my four high school years worth of Spanish on him. At the end of the 45 minute conversation (which was really me speaking broken Spanish, and him laughing at my attempts) he told me I had a nice accent, and my Spanish was okay. I guess I have Senora Villamarin to thank for that one. NOT. Somehow it was understood by the Italian and the Spaniard that Sarah and I would be at St. Steven's Green at 11:30 (or Once Y Media as I shouted) Sunday morning. This prompted the boys to ask to take us on dancing dates, and somehow we decided this was a good idea. It wasn't.
I started getting phone calls at 11:30 from an unknown number and realized what I had done. I had agreed to go dancing with two men who could not speak more than 8 words of English each. Sarah and I walked through each corner with our eyes peeled, ready to jump into a crowd of people at the sight of either of the men. We took the walking tour of historical Dublin. It was pouring rain but I still managed to enjoy the gorgeous architecture Dublin has to offer, I'll post pictures below.
That's it for now, one week down.
Pictured : Trinity College courtyard and clock tower, colorful Dublin doors, St. Steven's green.
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