San Francisco regifted my heart to Dublin.

I haven’t posted my adventures in quite some time. I’m sorry. Again. Moving on.

As a noob in terms of Irish culture, I wouldn’t hesitate to claim any American in their right mind still is aware of St. Patrick’s Day and Ireland’s coining of the color green. Granted that any form of celebration justifies reasoning to make inebriated fools of ourselves, I still never could have imagined Macklemore’s lyrics within ‘Irish Celebration’ would hold such truths. I mean he’s a rapper; how trustworthy can his words be?

Having experienced the shamrock shots, and red-headed jokes in the States, I must say, our style of partying is quite weak.

To remark on my recent travels to Ireland’s most noted city on said national holiday, I must first comment on the presence of green. Did St. Patrick really intend to drown his country in an explosion of flubber? With no intention to exaggerate, the congested streets of Dublin harbored the entire lot of Mother Nature’s forgotten family sporting ranges of neon[if clothing managed to remain worn] green and orange.

Festive with a simple sequined bow for my high ponytail, I quickly realized I was swimming in the deep end of Irish culture without the comfort of a life saving vessel. Luckily my adventure was accompanied by fellow abroaders and Eramus students similarly flabbergasted by the immense celebration.

Benny was a tad tired having to wake up at 6am for the Dublin bus!

Benny was a tad tired having to wake up at 6am for the Dublin bus!

In good spirits as we headed toward the Land of the Green!

In good spirits as we headed toward the Land of the Green!

Even my espresso was festive with green sprinkles.

Even my espresso was festive with green sprinkles.

Standing together in the frigid air, we bared the cold to watch drunkards walks in the parade taking over the main streets of Dublin. Luckily, Sofia and I were in close proximity to several coffee shops and several times took cover in the warm borough.

Hitting up one of Dublin's many 'Costa Coffee' chains.

Hitting up one of Dublin’s many ‘Costa Coffee’ chains.

and even more green...

and even more green…

And more green...

And more green…

walking the streets clad in Green!

walking the streets clad in Green!

Once rejoining our colorfully snazzy[if I say so myself] company, we ventured to Bobo’s Gourmet burgers which made a mean Portabello burger to my Pescatarian liking.

Noms.

Noms.

IMG_2445

IMG_2454

Once fueled up on pints of Guinness, meaty burgers, and a jolly ora, our determined eyes displayed our similar mindsets: our next stop could only be one place:

Temple Bar.

Hosting an array of ecceltic beings ranging from rosy cheeked Irish lads chasing the orange faced women of the district to casual tourists desiring to experience the country’s renowned national holiday, we certainly never could have anticipated the verbal and visual treat we received.

While some may be disappointed that I actually remember St. Paddy’s Day, I’ll leave you with this farewell picture: who ever would want to forget this?

Vogue is a callin’.

Classy much?

Classy much?

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