After bidding farewell to wonderful Galway, Tarrah and I grabbed the rental car and hit the road south towards the Cliffs of Moher. (Having seen the cliffs featured in nearly every Pinterest post on Ireland, we both wanted to have our Aha Gaelic moment with them).
As we took to the open roads, we passed through beautiful open countryside, stopped to grab some Americanos (Europeans don't believe in drip coffee) and more brown scones, and genuinely began to feel like the luckiest ladies in the world - and then we drove by a castle.
Never being the type of ladies who could pass up the chance to feel like Irish princesses, we stopped in and for just a moment, caught up in the beauty and general awesomeness of the moment, I think I forgot I had a care in the world. (My moment of serenity, however, was quickly interrupted by a group of men on Harley's shouting wearing "Make America Great Again" hats, which I interpreted as the universe telling me it was time to move along.).
Back on the open road, we began to make our way to the Cliffs. The road had become significantly more narrow at this point and I felt fairly confident I was now driving in what seemed to be a two lane bike lane. (I got some great practice on my "Pilates breath" every time a double decker tour bus would narrowly squeak by us - our lives flashing before my eyes.)
At one point our two lane road became a one lane road and we found ourselves driving towards a double decker bus that was barreling straight at us. Realizing there was no way we could get by one another, the bus waited patiently as I backed the Ford Focus up the road while their passengers laughed and video taped me on their phones. Once safely passed, we could hardly stop laughing ourselves.
About an hour out from the cliffs it began to pour. (I began to feel like Jonah and the whale. God was clearing testing me and more pointedly, my driving skills).
Still undeterred by the rain, double decker busses, or bike lanes - we continued on- determined to have our Irish moment.
About 30 minutes out from the cliffs, we hit a rock ...a big one. After pulling over into a nearby parking lot, we could hear the air coming out of the tire and knew we had a flat on our hands. (I instantly regretted never paying attention to my multiple lessons various by ex-boyfriends on how to change a tire.). The good news is that we had opted for coverage and roadside assistance (which collectively had cost us a whopping $45) so enterprise agreed to send someone out immediately to get us back on the road - free of charge. The better news is that we happened to have hit a rock directly outside the Kilshanny House Pub and were about to eat one of the best meals of the trip.
We walked into Kilshanny house and Mary, the owner, immediately took care of us. We hooked into the wifi and ordered two Irish coffees (they were amazing) and two orders of the soup of the day which came with Mary's fresh baked bread. I don't know what Mary puts in that bread, but I'm pretty confident I've already had a few dreams about it since.
Next came the fog.
By now Tarrah and I had reached the steps two lane road that would take us up the cliffs. We slowly drove up behind a line of cars on the two lane road, tour busses continuing to wiz by, surrounded by fog so thick you couldn't see more than 5 feet in front of you, and rain pelting to the windshield. To say I was terrified would've been an understatement as I white knuckles the steering wheel, loudly inhaling and exhaling to calm myself. Fittingly, Avicci's song "the nights" played on the stereo and I remember thinking to myself - "Well if you're going to die today, at least you're going to die doing something memorable." (Plus I figured dying behind the wheel is pretty much how everyone imagines I'll go, or so I assume considering everyone's reaction when I told I would be driving a rental car through Ireland.)
Eventually we made it to the Cliffs and I exhaled, relieved we weren't going to die today (or at least not on the way up).
With the fog being as it was, we weren't sure we would be able to actually see the cliffs but were pleasantly surprised with how quickly it lifted. The cliffs turned out to be awesome and were definitely worth the life threatening drive. I was also happy that the drive from the cliffs wasn't nearly as treacherous sans fog.
We had originally planned on spending the night in Mullingar (a tiny town en route between Galway and Dublin) to visit some old Irish friends we had met in Tahoe a few years back. The boys had promised us a true Irish pub experience, but with the lag time from the tire pop we decided to take a different route and just had straight back to Dublin with a brief stop in Limerick for lunch. In Limerick, a bartender who looked like Jonathan Reese Myer's doppleganger served us up some beef stew and bangers and mash, along with two large glasses of Smithicks. We looked at him longingly before realizing that Limerick would be too far a drive in the morning to get our rental car back before 9am and continued on our way.
Being our last night in Ireland, we decided tonight would be the night to get our schmeagol on. Having heard Natalie and my stories of the infamous Copper Face Jacks in Dublin, Tarrah was eager to see if the rumors were true. Our friend Daly told us that there actually is a hotel attached to coppers and if you stay there then you can get into the club free. After realizing it was only $10 more than a private room at a hostel, we were sold.
We arrived in Dublin around 10pm and checked in at Coppers/the Jackson Court hotel. A line had already begun to form outside the club, which you had to enter in order to get to your room. (We got quite a few stares as we jumped the line of cocktail clad Irish with hiking backpacks strapped to us).
We got an equally entertaining look from the woman at reception who checked us into our "triple" (the only room they had available which included 3 twin beds and 2 sets of earplugs). I imagine we weren't their usual clientele.
After a quick shower and transformation, Tarrah and I hit the club. Reputation or not, this place is a must go for any age 18-35 year old American in Dublin. The club features 3 dance floors and played everything from top 40 to the Frozen soundtrack. It was also full of very handsome and friendly Irishmen, so needless to say - we had a blast. Towards the middle of the night we were approached by two Irish gentleman - a blue eyed brunette named Ruiari and a true Irish bearded ginger named Shamus.
"Dibs on the ginger", I told Tarrah.
(I had always dreamed of making out with a real live leprechaun)
The guys were great and proved to be fun dance partners and company for our last evening. We even learned what a "shift" was.
Around 3am, we hit the hay in our triple twins and awoke with just enough time to get the rental car back to enterprise unscathed (quite the feet if you ask me) and hop on our flight to Amsterdam.
(Total rental car cost = $280 euros and worth every penny.)
As we took to the open roads, we passed through beautiful open countryside, stopped to grab some Americanos (Europeans don't believe in drip coffee) and more brown scones, and genuinely began to feel like the luckiest ladies in the world - and then we drove by a castle.
Never being the type of ladies who could pass up the chance to feel like Irish princesses, we stopped in and for just a moment, caught up in the beauty and general awesomeness of the moment, I think I forgot I had a care in the world. (My moment of serenity, however, was quickly interrupted by a group of men on Harley's shouting wearing "Make America Great Again" hats, which I interpreted as the universe telling me it was time to move along.).
(Dungaire Castle)
Back on the open road, we began to make our way to the Cliffs. The road had become significantly more narrow at this point and I felt fairly confident I was now driving in what seemed to be a two lane bike lane. (I got some great practice on my "Pilates breath" every time a double decker tour bus would narrowly squeak by us - our lives flashing before my eyes.)
At one point our two lane road became a one lane road and we found ourselves driving towards a double decker bus that was barreling straight at us. Realizing there was no way we could get by one another, the bus waited patiently as I backed the Ford Focus up the road while their passengers laughed and video taped me on their phones. Once safely passed, we could hardly stop laughing ourselves.
About an hour out from the cliffs it began to pour. (I began to feel like Jonah and the whale. God was clearing testing me and more pointedly, my driving skills).
Still undeterred by the rain, double decker busses, or bike lanes - we continued on- determined to have our Irish moment.
About 30 minutes out from the cliffs, we hit a rock ...a big one. After pulling over into a nearby parking lot, we could hear the air coming out of the tire and knew we had a flat on our hands. (I instantly regretted never paying attention to my multiple lessons various by ex-boyfriends on how to change a tire.). The good news is that we had opted for coverage and roadside assistance (which collectively had cost us a whopping $45) so enterprise agreed to send someone out immediately to get us back on the road - free of charge. The better news is that we happened to have hit a rock directly outside the Kilshanny House Pub and were about to eat one of the best meals of the trip.
(The damage)
We walked into Kilshanny house and Mary, the owner, immediately took care of us. We hooked into the wifi and ordered two Irish coffees (they were amazing) and two orders of the soup of the day which came with Mary's fresh baked bread. I don't know what Mary puts in that bread, but I'm pretty confident I've already had a few dreams about it since.
(Our sweet refuge - Kilshanny House)
True to their promises, enterprise showed up relatively expediently, fixed our tire, and we were back on our way only an hour and a half behind schedule. 
(Our heroes!)
Next came the fog.
By now Tarrah and I had reached the steps two lane road that would take us up the cliffs. We slowly drove up behind a line of cars on the two lane road, tour busses continuing to wiz by, surrounded by fog so thick you couldn't see more than 5 feet in front of you, and rain pelting to the windshield. To say I was terrified would've been an understatement as I white knuckles the steering wheel, loudly inhaling and exhaling to calm myself. Fittingly, Avicci's song "the nights" played on the stereo and I remember thinking to myself - "Well if you're going to die today, at least you're going to die doing something memorable." (Plus I figured dying behind the wheel is pretty much how everyone imagines I'll go, or so I assume considering everyone's reaction when I told I would be driving a rental car through Ireland.)
Eventually we made it to the Cliffs and I exhaled, relieved we weren't going to die today (or at least not on the way up).
With the fog being as it was, we weren't sure we would be able to actually see the cliffs but were pleasantly surprised with how quickly it lifted. The cliffs turned out to be awesome and were definitely worth the life threatening drive. I was also happy that the drive from the cliffs wasn't nearly as treacherous sans fog.
(The incredible Cliffs of Moher)
We had originally planned on spending the night in Mullingar (a tiny town en route between Galway and Dublin) to visit some old Irish friends we had met in Tahoe a few years back. The boys had promised us a true Irish pub experience, but with the lag time from the tire pop we decided to take a different route and just had straight back to Dublin with a brief stop in Limerick for lunch. In Limerick, a bartender who looked like Jonathan Reese Myer's doppleganger served us up some beef stew and bangers and mash, along with two large glasses of Smithicks. We looked at him longingly before realizing that Limerick would be too far a drive in the morning to get our rental car back before 9am and continued on our way.
Being our last night in Ireland, we decided tonight would be the night to get our schmeagol on. Having heard Natalie and my stories of the infamous Copper Face Jacks in Dublin, Tarrah was eager to see if the rumors were true. Our friend Daly told us that there actually is a hotel attached to coppers and if you stay there then you can get into the club free. After realizing it was only $10 more than a private room at a hostel, we were sold.
We arrived in Dublin around 10pm and checked in at Coppers/the Jackson Court hotel. A line had already begun to form outside the club, which you had to enter in order to get to your room. (We got quite a few stares as we jumped the line of cocktail clad Irish with hiking backpacks strapped to us).
We got an equally entertaining look from the woman at reception who checked us into our "triple" (the only room they had available which included 3 twin beds and 2 sets of earplugs). I imagine we weren't their usual clientele.
(Our ridiculous accommodation for the evening)
After a quick shower and transformation, Tarrah and I hit the club. Reputation or not, this place is a must go for any age 18-35 year old American in Dublin. The club features 3 dance floors and played everything from top 40 to the Frozen soundtrack. It was also full of very handsome and friendly Irishmen, so needless to say - we had a blast. Towards the middle of the night we were approached by two Irish gentleman - a blue eyed brunette named Ruiari and a true Irish bearded ginger named Shamus.
"Dibs on the ginger", I told Tarrah.
(I had always dreamed of making out with a real live leprechaun)
The guys were great and proved to be fun dance partners and company for our last evening. We even learned what a "shift" was.
Around 3am, we hit the hay in our triple twins and awoke with just enough time to get the rental car back to enterprise unscathed (quite the feet if you ask me) and hop on our flight to Amsterdam.
(Total rental car cost = $280 euros and worth every penny.)
Where is the picture of the leprechaun??
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