Ireland

Ireland, you didn’t make it easy for us. Your lush green meadows turned to mud when we tried to hike through them. A cold wind blew along the coast; dampness and wetness crept into the houses and deep into our bones. We’d already been told that you were capricious and didn’t want to please everyone at any cost. But then, in ten days, you showed us the full range of your bad weather. You thwarted our plans, threw everything into disarray, and sent us home with mixed feelings. As poor students with little gear and even less money, we had little to counter your nasty moods.

Still, you also gave us a few rays of sunshine. And many, many wonderful encounters with people who love you exactly as you are. That gave us courage. Courage to try again someday and hope that you’ll welcome us a little more warmly then.

But even if not: You are Ireland. You are the Atlantic. You are the rock of an island. You are the coastal grass. And you are the whiskey that seems to stem from all of this.

Old Boat in Connemara-Nationalpark

In Dublin, traditional Irish pub culture, modern banking, startup vibes, student life, overtourism, and a thousand years of history blend together into an incredibly colorful mix. We begin our tour of the city at Trinity College Dublin with its impressive library. We continue through the lively Temple Bar district, down the pedestrian zone, and finally to Dublin Castle. We sit under the roof of a pavilion in City Park in the rain and eat cheese sandwiches from the supermarket.

At the harbor, we stroll between two rain showers past red brick facades, tall glass fronts, and coworking spaces. The names of major internet companies are displayed on signs next to the entrance doors.

The Guinness Brewery is located in an old industrial district. The Rolls-Royce fan club roars past us in lovingly restored Phantom and Silver Cloud models. Large gas pipes and steel frameworks tower above us. The air is thick with the smell of rain and alcohol, and for a moment we feel as if we’ve been transported back a hundred years in time.

Skyline of Dublin
Old-Timer in Dublin
Old-Timer in Dublin
Sand Woman in Dublin

Now that we’ve left your beautiful capital behind, we’re leaving you too, Ireland. And yet we’re staying on your lush green island. We swap euros for pounds, Guinness for ale and cider. By train, we cross a border that once led to so much violence and continues to have repercussions to this day. A divided island, a divided nation – and yet, in the end, the same people. Belfast, Giant’s Causeway, Derry/Londonderry. And then back to you, back to Ireland.

At the other end of your island, almost directly across from Dublin, lies the medieval port city of Galway. A tranquil little town full of pubs and music, shaped by the sea, the steep cliffs, and a barren yet beautiful landscape. We’re staying with a family of musicians and, in the evenings, we tap our feet to the beat of Irish songs in the pubs while savoring a dark Guinness.

The next day, we rent bicycles and explore the area. Gray clouds drift overhead. During a brief shower, we take refuge in the city museum. We stroll along the harbor and eat a modest (and inexpensive) meal from the supermarket on a park bench by a canal.

Galway Bay

Just when our spirits are pretty low – we’ve had enough of the constant rain and the surprisingly cool August weather – you suddenly lead us to a magical place: Connemara. A vast, rugged moorland landscape opens up before us. You have secluded lakes, bushes, scattered conifers, and even white sandy beaches in store for us.

But the deeper we venture into Connemara National Park, the more the sky closes in. Just as we begin the ascent to Diamond Hill, a fine drizzle falls upon us. Thick fog rolls over our heads. Vany returns to our tour group, while Chris sets off alone on the climb. At breakneck speed – for time is limited – he hurries up the steep path. At first, the climb takes his breath away; once at the top, it’s the view: long, sweeping valleys, pale-green steep slopes, and bare, rocky mountain peaks. A landscape straight out of a movie.

This brief, wind-swept moment, between raindrops and breathlessness, reveals your true beauty, Ireland.

Lake in Connemara
Beach in Connemara-Nationalpark
Beach in Connemara-Nationalpark
Connemara-Nationalpark View from Diamond Hill
Connemara-Nationalpark

We want to rent a car to drive to the Cliffs of Moher. But the minimum age requirement is 25 – we’re still too young. Another minor setback, another plan that falls through. Disappointed, we take the bus back to Dublin to spend our last few days there. A packed hostel, homemade pasta with tomato sauce, and the same old mix of rain and brief moments of sunshine.

When the weather is good, we wander through the bustling alleys and streets. When the next rain shower hits, we head to a museum – they’re usually free.

Ireland, you didn’t make it easy for us sun-drenched Southeast Asian backpackers. Maybe it takes more patience than we had back then. Maybe it takes the right outdoor gear. Maybe it takes more money to spend rainy days in the pubs. Maybe it takes more travel experience to make the best of adversity.

You were one of our first trips together. But despite all the hardships, you didn’t dampen our wanderlust. On the contrary: more than ten years later, the longing for your damp meadows, your rugged coasts, and the low-hanging rain clouds is stirring within us once again. We will return – you can count on that.

Info about our trip