One of the great tragedies (hyperbole) of my life is that Jon and I never took a honeymoon. We got married on a Friday night in New York, and spent Saturday hanging out with our families, hearing about the wedding aftermath (half of our wedding party came down with the flu and one of my bridesmaids actually had to be hospitalized). Jon was in grad school, and had to be back in class so our "honeymoon" consisted of one night at the Holiday Inn in Niagara Falls (our wedding night) and a night at a hotel in Sarnia, Ontario on our way back to Michigan for school.
Now, nearly twenty-four years later, we are taking our first vacation without kids. It was Jon's idea to go to Ireland, which has also been high on my list of places to visit. Our itinerary is a bit ambitious. Ireland is a small country, but when you're trying to see as much of it as possible in under two weeks, it seems incredibly vast.
|This was our plane|
We spent our time in Dulles, drinking with two Irish brothers who sat next to us at the bar, so it was like our holiday started before we'd left the US. I was excited to see that we were going to fly on one of these huge double-decker planes.
We were established in our airbnb rental in Dublin by midday Saturday and spent our jet lag day walking around, trying to get oriented. We ate an early dinner at a restaurant near Grafton St, and collapsed into bed.