Alive, Alive, Oh!

*Let me first off just apologize for the lack of blogging over the last two weeks. Three countries have been conquered over the past 15 days, with Internet being a rare gift in each of them. Here's just a taste of what my adventures in Dublin, Ireland were like. Belgium and Germany will soon follow*


As I stepped up to the customs agent at the Dublin Airport, he looked at my passport, smiled, and read my obviously Irish name in a heavy brogue. “Ryan William Donovan.” I nodded. His reply? “Welcome home son.” Nearly pissed myself.

I couldn’t have asked for a better greeting for my weekend in Dublin. For those that don’t know, my family is 100% Irish. I grew up hearing about our family coming over to America from “the land of Éire,” eating my Nana’s Irish potatoes, and doing every elementary school family heritage project on Ireland. Not like the other kids who were 20% Italian, 40% Greek, 17.3% Guatemalan, etc. So I was excited to feel that connection to a homeland to which I’ve never been. Which I guess explained why I couldn’t stop smiling as our cab driver drove us to our hostel, pointing out all the sights and little places off the beaten tourist trail.

We got to the hostel and dropped off our stuff. Now for the last two weeks in Paris it hadn’t gotten above 20 degrees Fahrenheit, which caused us to curl up inside to stave off the cold. We were suffering intense cabin fever. But in Dublin it was a mild 45 degrees, which felt like a tropical paradise to us, so we immediately took to the streets of the Temple Bar area of the city.

Huge tourist trap, but we didn't care. Tons of very colorful characters were already filling up the bars, and it was only 4 o' clock in the afternoon. I needed to catch up. Enter: A pint of Guinness. We entered the closest restaurant, a spot called The Old Mill Inn Restaurant. Opened the menu. Saw pints of Guinness for 3 euro. Saw fish and chips. Decision made. 

People have said the if you want the best tasting Guinness, you need to get one in Dublin. Never a truer word was uttered. The stuff was ten times better than any of the Guinness I've had back in the states, like a leprechaun came along and pulled an Emeril, throwing a fistful of Irish magic into a glass. BAM! What a taste. As to be expected, Devyn wasn't the biggest fan. But the place had pickles, and everyone spoke English, so she was overjoyed. The meal was capped off with some coffee and a slice of Bailey's Cheesecake that was so good, I was forced to lick every last crumb off the plate when no one was looking. Hey, the Irish aren't well known for their table manners.

The sun had begun to set as we left the restaurant. We set off around the city, walking across the bridge to the North end, where there was a ton of outdoor markets, still going strong despite the sun setting. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, the sky became a twilight blue, and the city began to light up. As we walked down the banks of the River Liffey, I found there to be too many great photo opportunities to take advantage of, which eventually separated me from the group. I had no complaints though. Managed to take in the views of a city that I just kind of felt in tune with.

Fast forward to 9 o'clock that night. I made it back to the hostel and we had showered and were ready to hit the bars. A few staff members at our hostel recommended a few good places to see some Irish music, so Kearney's was our destination. As we walked down Dame Street, we were greeted by a miraculous sight. A 24 hour diner. Something unheard of in Paris. The three of us immediately swore that we would be back there before the night was over. But the miraculous sights didn't end there. We walked into Kearney's, found a Jameson's Whiskey barrel to sit around, and went up to the bar to order. What miraculous sight was there waiting for me? Coors Light on draft. Another anomaly in Paris. I was a pretty happy guy.

The pint glasses were full, the music began to play, and before we knew it, people in their 20s all the way into their 70s were dancing around the bar, jumping around and treating each other like a big family that hadn't gotten together in a long time. An old Irishman, breath smelling intensely of Jameson, stumbled up to us and quizzed us for a solid 10 minutes on Irish trivia, most of which we didn't know. He finishes the trivia game with a slurred announcement that he has to go to the bathroom and off he went. 20 minutes later, when I needed to use the bathroom as well, I found the guy still standing there struggling to take care of his business. Poor guy. Well he couldn't empty his tank, but he sure drank like a tank, so I guess nobody's perfect. If you look in the picture below, the old guy in the middle left with the glasses and newsie cap on. That's our guy. What a champ.

The three of us continue to hop from bar to bar, having one of those nights where everybody seems like your friend. Just a whirlwind of random events. At one bar, we met Sheila, a woman in her 60s who was having a big retirement party. Way to go Sheila! After leaving Sheila's party, we snuck on a pub crawl with a bunch of British people. God save the queen! However, we were kicked out of a bar for not having the pub crawl wristbands, so our cover was blown. So we entered the closest bar and headed down some stairs, past a bouncer, and into a basement with smooth, marble walls. Great music, crazy lights. We started dancing when I felt Devyn pull on my arm, telling me it was time to leave. I started to protest, saying this place was awesome, when she ordered me to look around. I followed her instructions and as I scanned the room, I noticed that every single person in that basement was 4-5 years younger than me. Then I saw the decorations. Holy crap. We crashed a 16th birthday party. We were outta there before they could spot the grey hairs on our heads. We finished the night at another bar where a band was playing classic American hits like "Born to Run" and "Roxanne," to which we all raucously sang along.


This was the exact kind of night I hoped to have while abroad. A night where you leave the house without much of a plan, have a whirlwind of experiences, meet all kinds of great people, and laugh as hard as a person can laugh. Just as the lyrics to Dublins unofficial anthem "Molly Malone" says, we felt "alive, alive, oh!"