A Letter from Dublin

My second favorite city in Ireland...

Dear friends, family, and random accumulated Substack community (hi guys, thanks for being here ^3),

Ever wanted to feel famous, even just a little? I have your solution… board a flight that requires you to walk across the tarmac to the plane. And do it behind the effortlessly elegant Nina Gentles. Nina embodies the it girl like no one else I know. Chasing her in her long black puffer and knee-high boots with her colorful carry-on suitcase made me feel like we were going somewhere opulent (fashion week, movie premiere, restaurant opening, the rapture, you decide). The flight was similar in length and scope to the flight between Chicago and Minneapolis but we landed in a rare moment of sun on the island. There was a rainbow shining through the window at the end of the loading bridge and our professor Barbara gave celebratory hugs to everyone. Remember how I wrote that I expected landing in any foreign country would immediately fill me with joy and delight appropriate for the season? I learned when landing in Dublin that that is only an Ireland thing, for me at least. I feel such joy there, even on the dreariest of days.

Please, she is so elegant and perfect

Returning to the Harding Hotel was fine from a room perspective (though the discrepancy between the sizes of the beds was HEINOUS) but I was most excited to reacquaint myself with the fantastic hotel restaurant and adjoining pub, Darkey Kelley’s, home of my first legal drink (at age 19) and origin of my love of the baby Guinness shot. I was shocked by how familiar Dublin felt, though I suppose the fact that we stayed in the same hotel freshman year probably helped. I remembered the way to my favorite coffee establishments and restaurants as well as the Brazen Head, Ireland’s oldest pub! I rarely have any semblance of a sense of direction, so that was life-affirming.

Dublin was as Dublin always is… friendly, colorful, cobbled… And an exciting list of ins and outs to reflect the experience.

In

• Strolling with Kate Riley

Immediately after landing in Dublin, I began to feel incredibly restless. I texted Bella, Lily, Eva, Agnes, and Kate to see if anyone was feeling up for some exploration, and thank God Kate Riley answered the call. We had been bonding over only the two most excellent things… shared illness and a love of literature (Percy Jackson and various forms of high fantasy smut specifically, hate to expose both of us but it’s true enough) but this coffee extravaganza was the start of something I feel. We happened upon the Music Cafe where Kate indulged in a Bailey’s hot cocoa and it’s probably my greatest regret that I did not join her in that endeavor. We did, however, discuss such fascinating topics as publishing, Kate’s recent admittance to Raya, and the effect she was undeniably having on the people of Dublin (they were all freaking out you guys). We went on to have many other illustrious shared journies, most notably a laundry run to the most normal laundry establishment in the world. Working everything was a high. Stress. Experience. We annihilated Kate’s budget of physical euros and left with only slightly damp clothes and managed to arrive at our next class activity pretty much on time? I can’t recall how late we were. Whatever, we just shared many beautiful journaling moments there and in the cafe around the corner where I had only the BEST Rueben of my life… Not that I indulge particularly often in Reubens and I’m pretty sure Kate’s food was startlingly average but it was still one of my favorite dining experiences of the trip. Kate Riley is and has always been IN. As I wrote in my journal, that woman rocks my world.

Myself and Katherine Riley, balling out

That really awesome sandwich

• The Brazen Head

Not only does it sound like something straight out of Lord of the Rings, the Brazen Head is Ireland’s self-described oldest pub, established in 1198. It’s really a delightful scene. Supposedly its indoor seating is extensive and cozy but since I’ve never gone there to order food I’ve been relegated to the outdoor seating area. Great stools, 10/10. On my previous trip to Ireland, the Brazen Head was a kind of frantic, early nightcap and I didn’t settle in and enjoy the experience, I was just ready for bed moments after arriving. Not so on this trip. We graced the Brazen Head not once but twice and both times greeted me with much joy and revelry. And Guinness! Outdoors at the Brazen Head is a tale of high tables and heat lamps, though Dublin weather was fairly kind to us there, out of the worst of the breeze. It hosted us both for a delightful night of mild drinking, after which Eva and I tackled the hill one must climb when returning with (dare I say it) speed and aplomb and for the 22nd birthday of our Gwyneth. Gwyneth is the coolest and kindest person ever and they also braved a birthday case of sinusitis so that we could celebrate them. Truly stunning night. Truly stunning pub.

Bella (a kindred spirit of the highest order) and myself at the Brazen Head

Lily Baird (home and sunshine in a girl) after splitting the G at the Brazen Head

• The MoLI

Ireland’s Museum of Literature was an odd but fantastic museum experience. First of all, it took place on the morning of pub crawl night and everyone in class was DRESSED which was fun from a complimenting-one’s-friends perspective. The physical plant itself was a little bit off-kilter, morphing from a historic house into a modern, strangely constructed museum. Sure you have your photo walls and room-spanning timelines but you also have motion-activated audio displays that read snippets of Irish literature in the ceiling and a large assemblage of pillows next to a quote screen and a room featuring nothing but paper, pencils, and microphones which one could pick up to listen to a particular author describe their creative process. I wrote two pages of nonsequiturs and went on my merry way but not before discovering a quote from Derrick Landy who famously wrote the Skullduggery Pleasant series that I adored as a fourth grader. Full circle.

• The Literary Pub Crawl

The pub crawl so nice I’ve been on it twice… I love this experience. Finbar, our incredible tour guide for both of our literary pub adventures did not disappoint (and would never, Finbar holds the trophy for best tour guide in Ireland two trips running). Did you know that Oscar Wilde once outdrank a group of miners in the United States and was the only one sober enough to liberate them from the mines they were stuck in? I sure did, because Finbar told me two years ago. I swear to high heaven, this guy doesn’t go anywhere without seeing people who know him. Every single pub we walk into and place we pass has a friend of Finbar’s around somewhere. Most popular thespian tour guide in the land. I bravely asked him if he’d read Ulysses. He has, partially.

I never expected to see Finbar ever again after my freshman year, so seeing him again kind of stopped me in my tracks. You never know when you’ll weave back into someone’s life or they’ll weave into yours. I’m sure Finbar doesn’t have any memory of who I am (though he did follow me back on Instagram, so hi, if you’re seeing this) but he and his lovely black cloak/shroud/wrap were such a welcoming and comforting sight I could have cried.

Deeply focused on the proceedings of the literary pub crawl. Collecting ourselves, one might say…

• Mild obsession with media about the 1916 Easter Rising Massacre/GPO

I was having all kinds of academic breakthroughs on this trip. We toured Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin, a place that I always find to be deeply charged (obviously, young revolutionaries were executed there and thousands of poor folks were imprisoned and abused). We toured Kilmainham on my first trip to Ireland, freshman year, and I have not gone a day since without thinking of the story of Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford. They were engaged and allowed to marry on the morning of Joseph’s execution. The chapel was silent and solemn as they made their vows, witnessed by guards instead of friends. Grace was allowed ten minutes with her husband before his execution, time during which they hardly spoke. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like, I get chills just thinking about it. I was also able to confirm that our 2022 tour guide opening Mary Plunkett’s cell and allowing us to see the painting of her on the wall was a rare occurrence and not just something that they layer into the tour to make everyone feel special. Bit of an ego boost, that.

Anyway, with a follow-up tour of the GPO, I wrote a harried list in my journal of “things that interest me creatively and philosophically.” This boils down to my curiosity about the connection between art, identity, and revolution, a discipline which I have titled the aesthetics of revolt.

• Watching Saltburn on a free day abroad

Yeah, we did that… Carly and I had been dying to watch Saltburn and we were only too happy that our friends Lilly, Nina, and Nia were in the same condition. So, after purchasing numerous Aran Island sweaters, we made for Cineworld, Dublin’s finest cinema (in my limited and admittedly singular experience). I wrote three whole pages in my journal about that movie. I don’t know if I enjoyed it per se but it captured me entirely and I could not tear my eyes away. Barry Keoghan improvising the grave scene… honestly… I love that man now having watched him in several interviews but I’m scared and I’m staying cautious. I considered putting this in the out category, considering it did throw me into a bit of a quiet and contemplative mood before the club, but honestly I feel it bonded me with Carly, Nia, Nina, and Lilly so it’s staying here. Also, it seems to be an absolutely essential piece of pop culture. Carly, Jim, and I are going to be watching it *again* for our REL 212 class, Religion and Pop Culture. No accounting for the potential applications of Saltburn.

• Running into still more non-trip affiliated DePaul friends

PATRICK WILSON WAS IN DUBLIN! As was the lovely Jocelyn. They were on a little trip hopping about and it was genuinely NUTS to see them. I was at the Brazen Head for Gwyneth’s aforementioned b-day extravaganza, and suddenly there was Patrick! I don’t know you guys, crazy moment. Nothing more life-affirming than seeing one of your best friend’s roommates abroad. Hi Q Blais. Hi Patrick. Hi Jocelyn. You all rock.

Out

• More friends taking ill

The illness that I had developed in London was slowly fading (though I had a runny nose for the majority of the trip) but unfortunately, the second round of the illness was rising in the class. In Dublin, it slowly claimed Lilly, Nia, Nina, and finally Carly (after long and impressive battles on all accounts). This was a major blow because those are the girlies and though I know a bunch of other people on the trip were sick, I was one of the first and one of the ones with whom they spent the most close time and I felt REALLY down about their illnesses. Hard to go on a study abroad trip without some people taking ill, but demoralizing nonetheless.

• Ain’t No Finer Diner or whatever the f*ck it’s called

Carly and I had passed this glorious-looking, Archie comic-esque red diner on our way to several class activities. While we’ve since been told that Ain’t No Finer Diner is definitely not the actual name of the place (boo) it will remain infamously designated as such in my memory. At this point in our day, it was dreary, and raining, and breakfast was a far-off memory. Carly and I were ravenous and so, so excited to try out a new place. It seemed like classic Americana and we, quite frankly, couldn’t wait. Upon sitting down, we realized things were going to be a little bit cold and damp as the heater wasn’t, well, heating to its potential. The food was both overpriced and sorely lacking in piquancy. There also just wasn’t much of it. However, I devoured my entire chicken tender basket and I did not look back. Carly’s burger was charred to the point of mild inedibility but she made a concerted effort. We had a lot of fun flipping through the song catalog and picking our favorites so that part was excellent. Of course, anything I do with Carly is one of the most delightful things I have done but I can’t sincerely recommend this place.

• Watching Call Me By Your Name in the winter in the afternoon

Carly and I watched many movies on our quests to relax and fall asleep throughout this trip, but this one just decimated me in ways that I did not need to be decimated during a study abroad endeavor. Not only did it make me yearn for the Italian countryside, but it also offended reasonable romantic age restrictions and still somehow managed to break my heart and leave me genuinely speechless for the entirety of “Visions of Gideon.” Sitting in the Harding Hotel in Dublin with tearful Timothee Chalamet is a complicated feeling and one that I don’t want to replicate. However, it did catapult me into a wonderful, necessary Sufjan Stevens phase. It also is a visually and emotionally stunning piece of work. Every cloud has a silver lining.

• Feeling awkward at the club

It happens to the best of us, for real. We went out to this club called George’s in Dublin and usually, I feel pretty okay in those scenarios but this time was not my time. I felt self-conscious and sometimes that can be hard to shake. I wrote about it in my journal, trying to shake off the weird energy and just have a good time but sometimes that proves near impossible to do. Important to stay patient with yourself in those moments, frustrating as they may be, and keep dancing anyway.

At least we looked soooo cute

That’s Dublin for you! Museums, exhaustion, pubs, clubs, movie nights, and my new favorite Aran Islands sweater.

Check back in for Slane and Cork in my final letter about this trip.

With love,

Anna