pub crawl smub prawl.
i was jolted out of sleep from my nap for laura running into the room screaming "we're leaving for a pub crawl RIGHT NOW!" - chelsey and i groan and then laura and bridget were gone. needless to say, once we had awoken and dressed, they were no where to be found. this lack of having a phone is proving to be difficult.
so regardless, chelsey and i got up and headed for the town. we roamed the roads and found our way down dawson street. then we found "dawson lounge - the smallest pub in ireland!" and decided that was the best place to go.
we sat and finished a bottle of wine each and talked to the bartender who's name was derek. he was originally from dublin, and said he did not have any bad vibes about americans. we chatted him up for an hour or two when a very stereo-typical irish drunk stumbled in and sat down next to me. i don't recall his name. but he rambled in what i thought was english. then the girl he was with, a black woman from south africa, told me that we the americans were "the bad guys" - she is here in dublin for a conference about a ban on bombs.
after the bottle of wine and of course, a pint of guinness, we headed to our next location - a bar i don't remember the name of that the previous bartender told us to go to. it used to be a bar on the bottom floor and the upstairs was the owners apartment. when the owner died, they made the upstairs into more bar area - but didn't change a thing. it was still like a big living room with a bar randomly in the middle. chels and i went out on the terrace so i could smoke and a man and a woman were discussing how straight men act strangely around gay men. when the woman left the man, whose name was patrick - he was from london and has lived in dublin the last 3 years as a tailor - sat and talked politics with us. we chain-smoked and he was hilarious. he used the phrase "bloody hell" and was incredibly knowledgeable of everything going on in america, and for that matter, the rest of the world. we talked with him for an hour or two and he's supposed to "facebook" us.
two irish women befriended me in the bathroom and told me that dublin was not an accurate account of the country. that i needed to travel elsewhere if i wanted to get the real vibe. they were nice and irish as can be.
after dragging ourselves out of that bar, we roamed down our street, temple street to be exact, and found a grocery store where we bought what we thought was pizza and chips. the pizza turned out to be some sort of mayonnaise, pickle, corn, pepper, tomato, bacon, chicken thing. i ate it regardless.
i planned on taking a shower and hitting the bed - but the water in our hostel isn't working so the shower has to wait until the morning. i feel disgusting. my hair is so oily it's wrong.
time to try and sleep to the drone of busy streets.
so regardless, chelsey and i got up and headed for the town. we roamed the roads and found our way down dawson street. then we found "dawson lounge - the smallest pub in ireland!" and decided that was the best place to go.
we sat and finished a bottle of wine each and talked to the bartender who's name was derek. he was originally from dublin, and said he did not have any bad vibes about americans. we chatted him up for an hour or two when a very stereo-typical irish drunk stumbled in and sat down next to me. i don't recall his name. but he rambled in what i thought was english. then the girl he was with, a black woman from south africa, told me that we the americans were "the bad guys" - she is here in dublin for a conference about a ban on bombs.
after the bottle of wine and of course, a pint of guinness, we headed to our next location - a bar i don't remember the name of that the previous bartender told us to go to. it used to be a bar on the bottom floor and the upstairs was the owners apartment. when the owner died, they made the upstairs into more bar area - but didn't change a thing. it was still like a big living room with a bar randomly in the middle. chels and i went out on the terrace so i could smoke and a man and a woman were discussing how straight men act strangely around gay men. when the woman left the man, whose name was patrick - he was from london and has lived in dublin the last 3 years as a tailor - sat and talked politics with us. we chain-smoked and he was hilarious. he used the phrase "bloody hell" and was incredibly knowledgeable of everything going on in america, and for that matter, the rest of the world. we talked with him for an hour or two and he's supposed to "facebook" us.
two irish women befriended me in the bathroom and told me that dublin was not an accurate account of the country. that i needed to travel elsewhere if i wanted to get the real vibe. they were nice and irish as can be.
after dragging ourselves out of that bar, we roamed down our street, temple street to be exact, and found a grocery store where we bought what we thought was pizza and chips. the pizza turned out to be some sort of mayonnaise, pickle, corn, pepper, tomato, bacon, chicken thing. i ate it regardless.
i planned on taking a shower and hitting the bed - but the water in our hostel isn't working so the shower has to wait until the morning. i feel disgusting. my hair is so oily it's wrong.
time to try and sleep to the drone of busy streets.