Dublin
 

First time in Ireland | Rugby final | Quiet wrap-up

First time in Ireland

Flying into Ireland



Me at the Spike
   
Ha'penny Bridge
Inside Trinity College

 
Molly Malone
Dail Eireann - the Irish Parliament
 

As the plane flies over Ireland, I know the conditions are great for my discovery of this country. The weather is gorgeous, as the sun and the clouds give the land its famous lush green and intense colours. My mate Laurence is there to welcome me at the airport - the perfect ambassador for his country and culture. I had always been tempted to make the trip, but avoided the north of Europe during the winter and always preferred to head to the sea during summer. With this mad colleague, the scale tilted in favour of a visit, as I was eager to share in on some of the great times he has back home, and I knew I'd have a laugh with him as I always do in London.

As Laurence and I head towards his suburban home in Lucan, 9 miles west of Dublin, we already have quite a few activities planned for the three days ahead, but also know all will fall into place nicely. Conveniently, we've hired a car, a strange Ford Agila - a cubic green hairdryer as he puts it. His mother greets us with a nice fry, a B&B quality start to our stay. The house is very friendly, and quite busy, as you could expect in Ireland given the large families. His cousin's family is also spending some time here - I meet the two young sons.

p>After seeing the rugby game, a feast is awaiting us as the husband of Laurence's cousin has cooked a great roast - he used to be a chef. The atmosphere is so nice and friendly, a lot of joking around goes on, and we all enjoy the day's pictures and films, showing Laurence's undeniable talents and camaraderie. It is then time to head out with the boys, as we go to the local pub to meet up with Laurence's mates, accompanied by his sister Susan.

This is the big night out that Laurence had been winding me up about since we had booked our trip - I had even practiced on my Guinness with a few occasional pints in London. As each new lad arrives, the jokes abound, the latest anecdotes and stories, the explanations of nicknames, and any excuse to have a laugh or make a fool of someone else. The evening goes by before I notice it, everyone merry but not drunk, in a very good ambiance with great music to which I start moving. I give Laurence a little kick in the butt for a joke - he turns around and looks straight into the eyes of all the strangers around him as if looking to fight back, only to see his sister and I laughing at him.

It is then time for a happy few to move on to the Ozone nightclub, to which only Laurence, his friend Matt and I go. This is one of the trendiest places west of Dublin, and I am immediately drawn in by the crowd and the music, while Laurence heads to the bar. The next thing I know, a girl grabs my arms and asks if I'm a professional dancer - I must say the Irish are just so friendly, such as this other guy in the pub who just insisted on shaking my hand. Things are going a bit too fast for me almost, yet I fully enjoy the mood and rhythm, and eventually Laurence makes his way onto the dance floor. We have our fair share of excitement throughout the night until the place closes. On the way out, a cute girl I had noticed is waiting for her jacket - she grants Laurence a kiss on my request.

The mission is then to find a taxi back to Lucan, which eventually happens. We end up sitting opposite a mad girl who stretches her legs onto Laurence. I joke around and say she'll fall into Laurence's arms the minute the taxi stops - Laurence strikes back "you fool, that's his boyfriend there", but the guy says he doesn't care. I keep joking and try to put Laurence in a tough spot by whispering that I shouldn't mention his talent for foot massage. The whole ride is messy and funny, as the driver tries to make some sense in the conflicting instructions he is given. Another girl realises Laurence was also in her taxi last time he was in town, and that he knows the guy sitting in the front - one about whom Laurence had told me an anecdote typical of the Irish spirit: whilst recovering from having half a finger cut off in a work accident, he was given a box of Cadbury Finger biscuits that had all been partially bitten off by his mates...


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