Natalie and I arrived in Dublin devastated that it was our last night of our Europe trip so we decided to do what any normal American Women would do in our sorrow and seek out a giant meal of comfort food to ease our pain.
We had decided to stay at the Dublin Hilton Hotel by the airport for our last night to avoid missing our flight again like the first round in Dublin. The Hilton was a welcome change of pace from our recent month-long hostel hopping. In addition to clean queen beds with beautiful white linen, we were beyond thrilled to see our favorite toiletries supplied in the bathroom - shampoo, conditioner, and even face wash from the great Peter Thomas Roth. (At this point, between the bed bugs and the mixed dorms, we were fairly easily impressed)
After enjoying the PTR and a lengthy shower, Natalie and I asked Joseph, the friendly Irish concierge, where we could go to enjoy a good hearty Irish meal. I was pushing Natalie to head back to Coppers for one last hurrah, but we settled on heading to a restaurant/pub called Gibney's in a "little Irish village" (Joseph's words) a few miles away.
Gibney's was located in Malahide and it reminded me exactly of the type of town and bar you saw in that movie P.S. I love you. I was instantly delighted. I could tell it was an authentic Irish pub because everyone over the age of 40 had some serious orthodontia issues and was delighted that we were American.
Natalie and I ordered some draft beer (I feel it's relevant to embarass her to note that Natalie ordered the "Irish Hooker") and 3 entrees. The bartender, who was one of numerous beautiful young Irish lads working the joint, brought over our feast with the help of a few friends as the dishes weighed about 10 pounds each and barely fit on the table. Like the animals we had become, much to the confusion and laughter of the employees of Gibney's, we devoured every morsel of our 10-man Irish meal. It was probably the best Irish meal I've ever had. Props Gibneys, props.
After stuffing ourselves silly with some outrageously large brews and some finger-licking fish and chips (and mad bangers and mash), Natalie and I went exploring the fantastic Village pub that is Gibneys. The place was absolutely huge with several bars in the pub and an awesome backyard area. If you ever find yourself in Dublin, I would highly recommend visiting this place in Malahide. Every Irish man and woman, old and young, were so incredibly warm and welcoming and we ended up staying the entire night until 1am! www.gibneys.com
As we walked through, I heard some amazing live authentic Irish music coming from the back and proceeded to follow it until I had a serious P.S. I love you moment with the beautiful man singing it. My P.S. I love you moment only got better when he winked at me and started singing "Galway Girl" which basically completed my Irish fantasy bucket list.
"Dibs", I said to Natalie while grinning like an idiot at the musically inclined Irish hottie and desperately wishing I had blue eyes and was from Galway so the song was better fitting to me personally.
Natalie and I continued to wander around the bar making friends, but I kept my eye on the talented, beautiful singer because, obviously, I would be dancing with him later.
During our time wandering, we met a slew of people including one really friendly Irish guy named Ciaran, 3 middle aged Irish women who told me I should move to Ireland for a year and "see what happens" (aka find a husband), the owner of the Gibney's bar (who is awesome and also suggested we just stay in Ireland), and a 60-something year old Irish guy who, upon finding we were from California, proceeded to get a starry look in his eye as he told us about the girl from San Jose that he fell in love with at 18 before she moved back to the States. Everyone was drunk, everyone was dancing, and everyone was adorable.
Our new friend Ciaran introduced us to his friends, including the sexy singer who I found out was named Jimmy. I'd like to note that my P.S. I love you fantasy, in addition to being smoking hot with a nice accent, was really talented. You also can have the joy of ogling his good looks and talent via google by searching Jimmy Sheeran or his band the "Black Bank Folk" (enjoy and you're welcome)
Ciaran also introduced us to some hilarious boys from Czechoslovakia who I have no idea how they ended up in Dublin but kept plying us with drinks. As we danced and drank the night away, I began to wonder if we were once again going to miss our flight.
Luckily, Natalie had a moment of clarity around 1am and we ducked out and sadly headed back to our hotel.
The next morning, I couldn't get those Irish ladies words of wisdom out of my head and seriously considered just staying.
In the end, we hopped in our shuttle bus and headed to the Airport...crying.
Airport security took a bit long. First because they were confused why Natalie was trying to bring all these cans of Sardines and Anchovies in her bag (as was I) and then because we made the mistake of telling the security guard that both our duffell bags were solely filled with stroopwaffle cookies (from Amsterdam), which made them instantly suspicious. Perhaps what we were really trying to do was sabatoge ourselves to get thrown out of the Airport so we would have to stay.
Regardless of our antics, eventually they gave us pass to take our cookies and move on, but not before the airport guard offered up his house for us to stay if we wanted to delay going home - which, I should note, we legitimately considered before remembering that we were out of money and had jobs to return to.
I was definately sad to leave Ireland and Europe. Natalie and I cried a lot on that plane ride to Newark and then we cried some more from Newark to San Francisco. I have decided that if I turn 30 and still haven't found Mr. Right that I will take those Irish ladies suggestion and return to Malahide to scoop up an Irish lad to sire my children. I've decided that if that comes to pass, I'm also going to bring Momma Himmelmann along (and perhaps find that adorable old Irish guy's lost love from San Jose).
I don't know if the Irish are much Karen Himmelmann's speed (they drink a lot and I think the teeth thing of the Irish men of her generation might bug her), but by the time I can afford to go back to Ireland she'll probably be less picky in her old age so it should work.
Until then Ireland! Much love!
We had decided to stay at the Dublin Hilton Hotel by the airport for our last night to avoid missing our flight again like the first round in Dublin. The Hilton was a welcome change of pace from our recent month-long hostel hopping. In addition to clean queen beds with beautiful white linen, we were beyond thrilled to see our favorite toiletries supplied in the bathroom - shampoo, conditioner, and even face wash from the great Peter Thomas Roth. (At this point, between the bed bugs and the mixed dorms, we were fairly easily impressed)
After enjoying the PTR and a lengthy shower, Natalie and I asked Joseph, the friendly Irish concierge, where we could go to enjoy a good hearty Irish meal. I was pushing Natalie to head back to Coppers for one last hurrah, but we settled on heading to a restaurant/pub called Gibney's in a "little Irish village" (Joseph's words) a few miles away.
Gibney's was located in Malahide and it reminded me exactly of the type of town and bar you saw in that movie P.S. I love you. I was instantly delighted. I could tell it was an authentic Irish pub because everyone over the age of 40 had some serious orthodontia issues and was delighted that we were American.
Natalie and I ordered some draft beer (I feel it's relevant to embarass her to note that Natalie ordered the "Irish Hooker") and 3 entrees. The bartender, who was one of numerous beautiful young Irish lads working the joint, brought over our feast with the help of a few friends as the dishes weighed about 10 pounds each and barely fit on the table. Like the animals we had become, much to the confusion and laughter of the employees of Gibney's, we devoured every morsel of our 10-man Irish meal. It was probably the best Irish meal I've ever had. Props Gibneys, props.
After stuffing ourselves silly with some outrageously large brews and some finger-licking fish and chips (and mad bangers and mash), Natalie and I went exploring the fantastic Village pub that is Gibneys. The place was absolutely huge with several bars in the pub and an awesome backyard area. If you ever find yourself in Dublin, I would highly recommend visiting this place in Malahide. Every Irish man and woman, old and young, were so incredibly warm and welcoming and we ended up staying the entire night until 1am! www.gibneys.com
As we walked through, I heard some amazing live authentic Irish music coming from the back and proceeded to follow it until I had a serious P.S. I love you moment with the beautiful man singing it. My P.S. I love you moment only got better when he winked at me and started singing "Galway Girl" which basically completed my Irish fantasy bucket list.
"Dibs", I said to Natalie while grinning like an idiot at the musically inclined Irish hottie and desperately wishing I had blue eyes and was from Galway so the song was better fitting to me personally.
Natalie and I continued to wander around the bar making friends, but I kept my eye on the talented, beautiful singer because, obviously, I would be dancing with him later.
During our time wandering, we met a slew of people including one really friendly Irish guy named Ciaran, 3 middle aged Irish women who told me I should move to Ireland for a year and "see what happens" (aka find a husband), the owner of the Gibney's bar (who is awesome and also suggested we just stay in Ireland), and a 60-something year old Irish guy who, upon finding we were from California, proceeded to get a starry look in his eye as he told us about the girl from San Jose that he fell in love with at 18 before she moved back to the States. Everyone was drunk, everyone was dancing, and everyone was adorable.
Our new friend Ciaran introduced us to his friends, including the sexy singer who I found out was named Jimmy. I'd like to note that my P.S. I love you fantasy, in addition to being smoking hot with a nice accent, was really talented. You also can have the joy of ogling his good looks and talent via google by searching Jimmy Sheeran or his band the "Black Bank Folk" (enjoy and you're welcome)
Ciaran also introduced us to some hilarious boys from Czechoslovakia who I have no idea how they ended up in Dublin but kept plying us with drinks. As we danced and drank the night away, I began to wonder if we were once again going to miss our flight.
Luckily, Natalie had a moment of clarity around 1am and we ducked out and sadly headed back to our hotel.
The next morning, I couldn't get those Irish ladies words of wisdom out of my head and seriously considered just staying.
In the end, we hopped in our shuttle bus and headed to the Airport...crying.
Airport security took a bit long. First because they were confused why Natalie was trying to bring all these cans of Sardines and Anchovies in her bag (as was I) and then because we made the mistake of telling the security guard that both our duffell bags were solely filled with stroopwaffle cookies (from Amsterdam), which made them instantly suspicious. Perhaps what we were really trying to do was sabatoge ourselves to get thrown out of the Airport so we would have to stay.
Regardless of our antics, eventually they gave us pass to take our cookies and move on, but not before the airport guard offered up his house for us to stay if we wanted to delay going home - which, I should note, we legitimately considered before remembering that we were out of money and had jobs to return to.
I was definately sad to leave Ireland and Europe. Natalie and I cried a lot on that plane ride to Newark and then we cried some more from Newark to San Francisco. I have decided that if I turn 30 and still haven't found Mr. Right that I will take those Irish ladies suggestion and return to Malahide to scoop up an Irish lad to sire my children. I've decided that if that comes to pass, I'm also going to bring Momma Himmelmann along (and perhaps find that adorable old Irish guy's lost love from San Jose).
I don't know if the Irish are much Karen Himmelmann's speed (they drink a lot and I think the teeth thing of the Irish men of her generation might bug her), but by the time I can afford to go back to Ireland she'll probably be less picky in her old age so it should work.
Until then Ireland! Much love!
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