Enjoying Ireland with the typical British hatred for all things wet, rainy and overcast isn’t possible.
I have spent the last 9 days of my life in Ireland. Starting with Dublin, then making my way to Cork and Galway before returning back to Ireland’s capital for a flight in the morning. This to many people all over the world is an envy inducing trip… although I have enjoyed myself over the past week and a bit, I just haven’t been able to share any of that oh-my-god-i’m-travelling-Ireland-isn’t-this-MAGICAL?! feeling that is ever so present in the countless tourists here.
This level of excitement is a bit of an exaggeration. It’s not the typical Ireland reaction I guess, and is maybe just a level of enthusiasm reserved for the American holiday maker. Of which there are many. But either way tourists are pretty psyched about Ireland, and even though I have tried, I have massively failed to get even vaguely excited about being here.
I’m putting it down to being Ireland’s next door – and generally disliked – neighbor. The Irish countryside is pretty similar to the English countryside. We have a lot of pubs in England. Ireland, too, has a lot of pubs. English is widely spoken, and people are generally polite… Ireland and England have a lot of cultural similarities. The weather is the real deal clincher though. To put it nicely, the weather is shit. Irish weather, just like the weather that the British should be used to by now, is shit.
This sounds fairly moany… but of course I have had a good time. It’s just been a bit too similar and too close to home for me to get too into it. Coming from 38 degrees in Rome straight into 14 degrees in Dublin wasn’t a big help, either. But here are some pictures anyway… which include me kissing a very old stone in Blarney castle, the New Zealand photographers of aforementioned picture outside the castle, Dublin, Cliffs of Moher, and an Irish farm complete with tea and cake. Enjoy.