Blog: A Hawaii couple’s adventures in Eire

The Hawaii Independent’s Downtown editor is currently reconnecting with his Irish heritage on his honeymoon throughout Ireland. He’s sending us back the details. Keep checking back for more musings from a Hawaii boy in Ireland.

I was aware that Dublin is a multicultural city, but I didn’t think it would take a full afternoon of walking the city until Wifey and I found an honest-to-God Irishman. The woman who checked us into our hotel is eastern European. She was relieved by a young man from Mauritius. We stopped for a bite and a pint of the black stuff at Foley’s Pub, which is apparently owned and operated by a family of Chinese nationals.

It wasn’t until after a visit to the Book of Kells that we met Jack, a giant, bright-eyed and affable young Irishman at the Blarney Inn. He served us a couple of pints and chatted us up about the “trad” music to be found in Dublin. From there, we made our way to Larry Murphy’s, a pub across the street from our hotel on Fitzwilliam Street. There we met Noel. He used to own the Blarney Inn, where we had met Jack. Noel now operates an Irish pub in Budapest. Go figure. The “small island” cliche is not exclusive to Oahu, evidently.

The following day we headed for the Neolithic ruins of Newgrange and Knowth, giant ceremonial mounds rising out of the Valley of the Boyne. Think heiau for cavemen. Much has been written in song, verse, and prose about the beauty of the Irish countryside, so I’ll not bother to embark on that well and properly traveled path. Suffice it to say that the verdant, pastoral scenery is even more powerful than the pure, crystalline terror of driving in Ireland.

Wifey is doing the driving, thankfully for me, but I was white-knuckled as we made our way to the Hill of Tara, an ancient and crucial site in Ireland’s prehistoric past through the Middle Ages. Can you be prosecuted for spreading your parents’ ashes at a UNESCO World Heritage site?

The road to Trim Castle was no less harrowing. Wifey did an admirable job, with me whimpering in fear next to her. But, after all of that, I thought my heart was going to explode as she negotiated the unmitigated chaos of rush hour in Dublin. It was nothing less than heroic. Never before in my life have I seen so many people with such a profound disregard for their own personal safety. Drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians in Dublin seem to have evolved an advanced awareness of the weakness of others on the road. An absolute free-for-all. The whole ordeal of driving in Ireland left me badly jangled and desperate for a drink or twelve.

We calmed ourselves with copious amounts of Jameson Irish Whiskey and by listening to an Irish music session at O’Donoghue’s Pub, where we met a cheery retired couple from the UK. We closed the pub down and walked the few blocks back to the hotel.

Tomorrow we’re off for a stay at Waterford Castle, and, weather permitting, a round of golf. It promises to be one of the highlights of the whole trip.

But we still have to drive there.