Exit Dublin, Bonjour Paris

The whirlwind traveling continues.

My last day in Dublin was appropriately awesome.  Not wonderful, or magical; just awesome.  After leaving the hotel in the morning I started wandering in the direction of the motherland, aka the Guinness Storehouse.  However being the easily distracted type it took me several hours to get there.  First I ran smack into Dublin castle, where for something like 6 euros I took myself on a little tour of the state apartments.

First, you'll note the lack of people in the photos of the inside.  That's because there was literally nobody but me in the entire castle.  No, seriously.

I believe I win the award for excellent timing.

From there I found myself at the real Christchurch, because apparently all the architecture in Dublin looks vaguely the same to me so whatever I found the day before was something else that looked exactly like Christchurch.  Yeah, I'm confused too.  But anyway, this is the real deal Christchurch.  For sure.  There was a sign.

As I left Christchurch and wandered in the direction of the motherland once again, I stumbled upon one of the best. Things. Ever.

Dublinia.

Now, when I come upon a sign that says "lose yourself in Viking and medieval Dublin," you've got my attention.  Vikings?  Um, yes please.

I didn't take any pictures, because, graphically, most of the exhibits were really, seriously campy.  When you have an entire scene dedicated to teaching people that the Vikings used moss as toilet paper COMPLETE with mannequin making embarrassing groaning and farting noises, you tend to lose a little street cred.  That aside, I actually did learn a lot of new information, and the third floor (coincidentally the only one you couldn't take photos on) had a bunch of real artifacts, skeletons, and other really nerdy fun stuff.  So I got my Viking fix in, check.

And then finally, it happened...

But, not before I got myself hopelessly lost because who knew Guinness owns a compound the size of Rhode Island and I wasn't reading my damn map properly.  Literally circled the entire thing which, you should know, is about four by four massive city blocks.  So much walking.  But to the persistent come many rewards.

18 euros later (they can charge it because people will pay it) I found myself walking through a multilevel museum dedicated to teaching you about beer.  You have to love the spirit.

Here are a few pics.

The magnificent entrance to your touring experience, complete with waterfall and pool full of coins that they apparently donate to bringing clean water to those in need (because nothing brings to mind philanthropy more than a cold pint).

Learning about cooperage.

Getting my coveted certificate at the Guinness Academy for learning to pour the perfect pint. 

Finally, the entire reason for this excursion.

In the end I did learn how to properly taste beer, which was definitely my favorite part.  I mean, that take it SERIOUSLY.  You go through a darkened corridor into a bright, clean, white room with four scent dispensers (for lack of a better explanation).  You first smell all the main components of Guinness (hops, toasted barley, etc), they you go to another room where you're schooled on exactly how to taste it like the pros do.  You are absolutely never under any circumstances to sip Guinness.  You must drink with confidence!

By the time I wandered through the gift shop and got myself a new tee shirt and luggage tag it was raining outside so I started walking back homeward.  The umbrella that dad sent me with?  Yeah, in the hotel room.  Thank goodness I brought my jacket at least.  

A leisurely pit stop at a pub for a pint and newspaper brought me almost to opening time of the restaurant I had been coveting, and to kill the last fifteen minutes I wandered back to a shoe store I'd stumbled upon the day before and decided to revert to my high school days and pick up a pair of converse.  I love my Toms boots, but at some point I'm going to need a pair of shoes I can wear above 40 degrees, so here it is.

I rather like them.  My credit card company was highly suspicious however and froze my card soon after.  But no harm no foul, all resolved now.

And last night's dinner was out of this world.  I'd heard good things about The Pig's Ear, so decided to check it out.  I was decidedly underdressed in my jeans, sweatshirt, and knit hat, but fuck it.  

To start, green tea cured salmon with cucumbers, smoked salmon, trout roe, buttermilk, and dill.  If the lighting hadn't been that romantic candlelight junk my camera hates I would have taken lots of pictures because the plating was beautiful.  Light, crisp, flavorful, yummy.  Follow that up with a nice glass of Spanish Tempranillo and venison medallions with beets, crispy kale, butter roasted potato, and pickled blackberries and my little foodie heart was fit to burst.  By the way, never had venison before, but I'm an instant fan.  Delicious.

Made it home without incident, then off to bed, but not without a few salt and vinegar chips for dessert.

So, got up this morning at some ungodly hour (especially so since my body is still thoroughly confused about what the hell time it is) and made it to the airport.  Thankfully the taxi driver this morning wasn't the chatty type.  Silence is beautiful at 7:30 am.

Flight to Paris, AGAIN not full so an entire row to myself this time!  Landed, my bag was one of the first off the carousel, and then found my way to the shuttle to terminal 3 where I bought a 3 day metro pass and hopped a train to Paris.  Three connections and one wrong turn juggling a large, unruly backpack later, I found my hotel.  La Maison Montparnasse is cute, colorful, and friendly.  But, more on my subsequent Paris adventures later, I'm done in.

Bon soir!

~Swan