Ireland Finally Came

Ireland was like 11 months in the making (thanks to Lindsay Dias). The plane ride was filled with bright light, crying babies, smelly food, and no leg room. But we arrived early. The jet lag nearly killed us (I went on this excursion with co-blog author Lindsay). The first bed felt like cement and the sheets might have actually cut us. It was almost as if we slept outside next to where they crush glass. The second hotel was a beautiful castle (Jennifer Aniston stayed there). The bed was an improvement, but still lacked something. The third hotel sat next to Merrion Square where Oscar Wilde lived (homosexuality was decriminalized in 1993!). It was beautiful. The bed was heaven. The trip saw us attempt to drive on the other side of the road (think the movie "Clueless"). The food was great (it really was). Such great hot chocolate. We rode planes, trains and automobiles. It was exhausting. The sleep was non existent. We went to the first gay bar the George and saw a drag show. The weather was bi-polar. It was rainy, cloudy, sunny, windy, hot - all in about twenty minutes. But it was fun. The people were so nice. Dublin reminded me of Boston. Howth reminded me of Rockport, MA. It wasn't until we arrived at the Cliffs of Moher (see picture) that I felt like I had arrived in Ireland. It felt like heaven. Pictures don't do it justice. It is something all must see. It is like the earth cracked open and what's inside is all that is beautiful and good. But as much as I love to travel, I love my own bed more. And I'm happy to be back in New York City (Lindsay lives in Rhode Island - it's not a road or an island!).