Tuesday, November 5th, 2024…

I woke up on a Tuesday at 2 am, ready to take a bus from Mile End to London Stanstead, where I would be boarding a plane that would land in Dublin an hour later.

I know I seem like a person who enjoys traveling, and let me tell you, I really do. Exploring the world is one of the greatest joys of my life, and I feel so lucky that I get to do it from time to time. I also do romanticize airports; there is something about them. But, unfortunately, I am terribly afraid of flying.

The excitement of a trip, for me, comes with unbearable dread. I book the tickets, the hotel, the transportation… and I feel the kind of happiness that only the thrill of a vacation can give you. And then, when everything is ready and it is time to start planning, I completely panic. So during the time between paying and landing at the destination, I rely on therapy sessions and the process of preparing an itinerary (which, by the way, I am really good at).

But let’s go back to that Tuesday in November of last year. I woke up immensely tired, almost removed from any corporeal sensation. In any other occasion, I wouldn’t have slept, but we had exactly 48 hours in Dublin, and we had to make the most of them. I had dreamed of visiting Ireland for so long, and although I knew that two days weren’t nearly enough time to experience a city, let alone a country, I knew it would be a start. My relationship with the nation had just begun.

After a very stressful three-minute ride, which would have merely been a ten-minute walk from the university, we arrived at the bus stop. It could have been a nice nighttime journey if it weren’t for the fact that we had exactly five minutes left to get on the bus (never beating the always-late allegations). From here, I’d like to send the biggest thank you to our driver, who might or might not have taken the less legal route (but safe) to get us there on time.

But, hey, we were there, on a dimly lit bus that arrived at London Stanstead in half the time that it was supposed to, thanks to the absence of traffic during those inhumane hours of the morning. We had all the time in the world to go through security, eat and drink something, and then find our gate and board the plane.

We were late.

We had so much free time that we fell asleep waiting for our flight to appear on the screen. When we woke up, we had to run to our gate. Thankfully, we arrived, panting, before they closed it. We were the final four people to board the plane.

At that point, I hadn’t even had time to panic, so I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. Although I was internally freaking out, that was the first flight in years where I didn’t cry.

After a long time waiting and a very bumpy bus ride, we arrived at the hotel. One of my favorite parts of any trip is exploring my room for the next few days. Only, this time, it would be just for one night. We left all our bags and finally went outside to start exploring. Setting foot in a new country is always exciting.

Five seconds after leaving the building, it started raining. But, at the end of the day, a little rain is always expected in Ireland.

Hungry as we were, we didn’t stop until we arrived at the specific café we wanted to try. And I am happy we didn’t, because their pancakes were marvellous.

After some coffee and with our stomachs full, we were ready to be tourists.

Share notes on the shelf

11:10. A nice but rainy walk through a deserted Saint Patrick’s Park to start our day in a new city.

11:20. And then, a visit to Marsh’s Library. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to find literary spots everywhere I go.

11:50. A slow walk through Nicholas Street to get to the gardens of Christ Church Cathedral.

12:30. Around The Temple Bar during a cloudy morning… A few hours later, we would be drinking beer inside.

12:45. And onto Temple Bar Square.

13:00. Around O’Connell Street, looking for somewhere cheap to eat.

15:00. And after so long, my Sally Rooney dream… Trinity College. Let’s try to forget that a couple of days later, Paul Mescal paid a visit.

15:30. And after half an hour daydreaming about attending Ireland’s most famous university, Dawson Street took us to St. Stephen’s Green Park. We explored the beautiful sight for an hour and watched the sunset from one of the benches facing the lake.

16:45. A few steps ahead, the National Gallery of Ireland waited for us. In the hours between sunset and complete nightfall, we enjoyed the beautiful art, surrounded only by silence and tapping sounds of the very few other people who still walked those same halls.

17:30. It sounds strange to say that at only half past five, we were walking towards a grocery store to buy dinner. But we were. We bought some salad and a few other things that didn’t require much effort to prepare (we were too tired), and went to the hotel. There we ate, relaxed for a bit, and got ready.

21:15. It sounds strange to say that at only nine fifteen we were leaving our rooms to go out. But we were. We bought some beer at the store, some snacks for later—we knew we would be hungry—and made our way to The Temple Bar. It was too hot and too crowded, but I didn’t care; I was having the time of my life living the tourist dream in Dublin.

23:30. It sounds strange to say that after only a couple of hours, it was time to call it a night. But it was. We only had one day left to get to know the city, so we would have to wake up early the next day. At exactly 23:59, we finally got into bed after taking a shower and changing into our pj’s. We were ready to sleep.

And then we talked until 4 am.

Wednesday, November 6th, 2024…

9:30. As much as we tried to leave at nine sharp, the night before had taken its toll on us. So at half past nine, we left the hotel in search of coffee and something to eat. We found a nearby café with good reviews online. And, yes, it was good… and also the most expensive coffee I have ever had.

11:30. After a long walk around the Grand Canal, we got to meet Oscar Wilde! This is another literature-related stop that was completely my idea.

12:20. We walked through St. Anne’s Street all the way to Grafton Street, where we found the Molly Malone Statue.

12:35. We arrived at Love Lane, a colourful, hidden spot in a narrow alley downtown.

14:40. Then, it was time to get on a bus and learn some Irish history. We arrived at Kilmainham Gaol Prison with no tickets and a dream. Luckily, they had exactly four spots left, which didn’t happen very often, and it ended up becoming my favorite part of the trip. I love Irish literature, which is very tied to loving Irish history. The guided tour around the prison and the museum was such a gift; heartbreaking as it might have been, I learned so much about the country I was visiting. I always try to know as much as I can about the places I visit.

16:50. When we left the prison, the sun was setting, and we had already bought the tickets for The Guinness Storehouse. Since it was getting dark and it was a bit of a long way, we waited for the bus. As we were getting on, we realized we had forgotten cash in euros—we had been living in London for two months, so we had already gotten used to only paying with contactless. Apparently, in Dublin you cannot get your change back, you have to pay the exact amount in coins. At that point, we only had a ten-euro bill, so we offered it to the bus driver and told him to keep the two extra euros… He said no.

We walked (kind of ran) for half an hour. Finally, we arrived. And although I was really really tired, we had so much fun. At the end of the visit, we got our free Guinness at the top floor and drank amazing beer with amazing views.

19:00. It was time to find a place to eat. The only problem was: it was too late. Since we had only booked the hotel room for one night, we couldn’t make dinner ourselves, so it would be our one good meal of the trip (it was a low-cost trip, as you may have realized). But the Irish have dinner very early, and every place was already full, so we walked around for quite a while before we found a spot. And I am glad we did, because the food was very good, and the staff very nice—they agreed to charge all of our phones.

21:30. We stayed at the restaurant as long as we could, and at half past nine we were walking back to the hotel, where we had left our bags in the morning. The hotel staff let us change clothes in their restrooms, and leave our luggage in the storage room again until we came back from the club at past three in the morning. Irish people really are lovely.

22:00. We went back to Temple Bar, and this time we stayed for a couple hours. We were about to give up and go sleep at the airport when someone told us there was a club that played good music not too far away. So there we went. It was the night between a Wednesday and a Thursday, so it was pretty empty, but we still had a good time. Finally, at 3 am it was time to walk back to the hotel, change into comfortable clothes, and take the bus to the airport (the driver thankfully took the ten euros).

07:00. After what felt like the longest three hours of my life, we were on the plane ready to fly back. It still feels so special that when we said we couldn’t wait to be home, we meant London.

postcards from london

Here is the video I watch every time I feel nostalgic and have the need to go back to those two days.

I know the pictures on this post aren’t that great, and that is because I focused on getting good quality clips so I could then put this together, and I don’t regret it at all.

Share

A week before…

It was a dark Halloween night in Hackney. We had survived a violent fight at the club (we were NOT the ones fighting), a drunk crowd in the hottest room of all of London, and a street interview. It was time to go home. But, as we all know, parties in England end way too soon, and I was still carrying the high of a very good night. So, holding my dear friend’s hand and looking in the eyes of two people I had only met a few hours before, I said: “What if we go to Dublin next week?”

And the rest is history.

Read my love letter to London here: