Don’t eat the Mussels in Brussels!

A warning I whole heartedly recommend you all heed.

I arrived in Brussels; tired, hung over and anxious. I honestly had no idea what to expect about this place. I should have done more research. After going through customs and getting some much needed water, I found out the best way to my hotel was via the speed rail train. I got my ticket, boarded and within 20 minutes I was off at the Midi Zuid station. I walked outside and faced the harsh fact that, once again, I should have done more research about this place.

As I walked out, I certainly got a few dirty looks from the local, most likely poor people, though it was broad daylight and the little research I did do I came to understand most train stations should be avoided at night. I walked down the street and by looking at my surroundings, yup you guessed, I was in the not so nice south side of old town Brussels, dodgey looking people, old, half dilapidated buildings, boarded up windows etc.. .

It took me a half hour to find my hotel since the map I had of Brussels was a bit hard to read. I went to check in only to be discouraged by the fact that my room was not ready yet. I left my bags and wandered around a bit. As I walked up Rue de Midi Zuid I noticed nothing but coffee shops and kebab restaurants with Arab writing everywhere. I was staying in the Arab section of town; Saudi’s, Iraqi’s, Iranians, etc… GGGGRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT!!!!

I went back to the hotel, sat around and finally my room was ready. As I waited, there was a brochure display in the lobby and a place called O’Reilly’s caught my attention. Perfect I had a place to watch the Heineken cup!!! I got into the elevator and went up one floor. As the door opened my nostrils were assaulted by the stench of mildew and ammonia. Go figure, not only am I in a bad part of town with people who don’t like my people, but the hotel looked like no one was taking care of it. I guess that’s what I get for 50 euro a night. But when I walked into my room, I was pleasantly surprised to find it rather clean and dare I say slightly stylish. It had creamy orange embossed wall paper, modern light fixtures and lamps and although severely cramped, a nice bathroom.

After a much needed shower and nap I set off to explore the famous Grand Market Place. Leaving the hotel I walked straight up Rue de Midi Zuid and followed the skyline. Once I entered the market place I was totally enthralled, in awe and speechless. Never in my life had I seen something so amazing. Sure, one can say New York City is jaw dropping, but this here has been like this for CENTURIES!!! Not just one or two but several! The architecture alone was stunning, but mix in the placement, the details and the grandeur and it was truly something breathtaking that no string of words or picture could truly capture.

















I wondered around the area for a while, finally stopping at a café for a beer. Afterwards it was to try and locate this Irish pub to watch the game. After what seemed like an hour, I had almost given up until finally I found the street it was on. There happened to be a large English crowd there for the game. How did I know this? They were all outside singing random little songs that sounded like they were just made up. The English do that. I grabbed a beer and sat down on a bench next to these two Irish guy and we got to chatting. I knew a bit about Rugby but they filled me in on the things I did not know. Leinster, the Irish team won the game 15-9. There were cheers and such, but I could only imagine how crazy it was not only in Dublin but all over Ireland. I wish I was still there.

I left the bar and wondered around for a while finding the secret restaurant row and ended up eating at, of all places a tapas restaurant called La Corrila. The food was superb, the drinks as well. I had a small plate of anchovies to start which tasted as if they were marinating in olive oil, lemon and a touch of vinegar for hours. Next was a plate of spicy calamari but they dish that set it off was the mussels. They were perfect, some of the best I’ve ever had. They were small and succulent marinating in a broth of white wine, onions, parsley, and most likely some saffron. After dinner I wondered around some more, taking in the sight and sounds and eventually made my way back to the hotel. A solid first day indeed I said to myself. Little did I know that things would be taking a turn for the worst before I knew it.

Dublin: day 3 and 4

I decided to crop my last two days together since nothing wholly thrilling happened except for Friday night really. I awoke Thursday morning around noon and decided to once again go do some exploring. A quick bagel from the shop up the street and I was off. I decided to go explore the north side of the Liffey this time. I set out towards the river, crossed over and continued north outside of the touristy area on the other side. I ventured through a mostly Asian neighborhood and continued through the area taking a turn or two when a street piqued my interest. After walking through what looked like a not so nice area I decided it was time to head back to familiar territory. I luckily found Upped Dorset rd and remember from my bus ride into town going down it so I followed that road until I reach the Liffey and made my way back to my hotel for some relaxing.







After a nap I went in search of some dinner and ended up at this Asian restaurant on Wexford st called Pad-Thai @ Shine. An Asian eatery and lounge on the first floor of a larger bar upstairs. I ordered a Guinness and surveyed the menu, choosing a spicy beef dish with veggies and some steamed rice. It came served on a plate which held the rice and a smaller bowl for the main part of the dish. Most chefs that want to add presentation will garnish with crushed parsley or the like, this chef sprinkled chewy cooked onion flakes around the plate which I put into the dish. The food was excellent. It had a great flavor, and great spice.

After eating I ordered a Bulmers (known in the states as Magners) and waited to hear from Cathy. I met her down in the Temple Bar area which is rather touristy but fun. It’s so touristy in fact that they pay guys to dress up as leprechauns and wonder around to take pictures with tourists. Thankfully I had avoided this area altogether up until now. We had a drink or two in a bar called The Quays (pronounced keys), meanwhile there was a band of travelling Spanish musicians outside playing for a crowd. We checked them out for a bit until I decided to head back for a shower. Cathy stayed in Temple Bar realizing she forgot her wallet at the bar. I met back up with her a while later and we headed to this bar called the Purty Kitchen. It was at this bar that I heard/saw, hands down the BEST cover band in my entire life. This band would start a song, improvise 2 or 3 different songs in the middle of it before going back to the original song. For example they started with 7 Nation Army by the White Stripes, then they broke into Relax, Don’t Do it (from the 80’s) while keeping the bass line and drums going, after that they went into You Spin Me Right Round, and then finally finishing the original song. You may be wondering how that works but trust me they made it work; In fact during their first “mash up” they threw in Brittany Spears “Hit me Baby One More Time”







Cathy’s friend Warrick met us at the bar and after a round or two we left for another place. We then headed across the river to Sin E, a smaller, more eclectic bar with two floors. The main floor had a bar and a decent sized sitting pit and played mostly old 50’s tunes. Downstairs that Spanish band we saw earlier in the day was jamming out downstairs so the three of us headed down there to soak that up. These guys were incredible musicians. Switching instruments, improvising etc…
At this point I was hurting a bit from my last two nights of unrelenting alcohol consumption and revelry as was Cathy still feeling Tuesday night. We left Sin E, walked back across the river and headed to a burger place called Ricks. Warrick said I had to try one of these before leaving Dublin. I ordered a chili burger meal with chips (fries) and it was ok. Not the best fast food burger but nowhere near the worst. When our meals were done we parted ways. I headed home to rest the dome.





Unfortunately if you’re staying at the Jackson Court Hotel you should probably stay out until Copper Face Jacks closes since the thump of the bass can be heard throughout the hotel. So going to bed was not easy but it did happen eventually.
The next morning I was awoken rather unsympathetically by the sounds of hammers knocking out porcelain tiling. The room next to mind was being renovated and they decided today to get an early start. So I decided to finally take up the hotel on their free Irish breakfast. I walked in, sat down, grabbed some OJ and within a short period of time a plate of egg, sausage, Irish bacon and beans was bestowed upon me. I ate up and went back to my room to attempt some extra sleep thanks in part to finding the ear plugs I had on my flight over, low and behold they did the trick.

When I woke up again I set out to find a coffee shop with WIFI so I could give you guys something to read and laugh about. I found one around the corner from my hotel and sat down with my camera and computer and started uploading pictures and writing. I ordered a cappuccino and an apple crumble and sat there working and relaxing for a good almost 3 hours. At this point I was hungry for some real food. I texted Cathy but never heard back from her. I walked up to the kebab shop I went to the day before for the special lamb kebab plate and soda for 6 euro’s…not bad. Finally I heard back from Cathy around 8. She had a big case come into work and had to stay late and would have to go into the office in the morning. Sad to say I wouldn’t get a chance to see her before I left but Warrick was in the area at a bar called Mess RS Maguire’s.

I showered, packed up everything; triple checked it all and headed out to meet Warrick at this bar. This place was like nothing I had seen before; 4 floors. Of course there are multiply floor clubs but this was no club. I met his old roommate Catherine and their friend Dameon. We had a beer and then Warrick brought me to a party on the Northern side of Dublin almost on the outskirts hosted by a coworker of his. It wasn’t a huge party but it was fun and low key and the ratio for once was actually in the males favor. I went outside for a smoke and met Neely, Jean, Sarah and Flannery, four local girls. Of course the second they heard my accent they started in with all their stories about working in Boston for a summer or two and how much they wanted to go back, etc… We had some laughs and such. Eventually Sarah informed us she had to head back into town and that the others were going to Wheelans, a bar on Wexford st. near my hotel that I had not yet been to.
Warrick said he was gonna stay at the party but last minute jumped in the car. We headed into the city center, got dropped off and walked a ways to the bar. Once in the girls totally ditched us, figures as much. Warrick and I bumped into some friends of his so we all hung out on the top floor looking over the dance floor. After a long set of electro stuff the DJ turned to rock and we all started getting into it. After some more drinks we found Jean who took us down to the dance floor where all started getting crazy, dancing and everything. The lights came on around 2:45am and I looked at Warrick and simply said “Copper’s.” We took off down the street for one last hurrah at Copper Face Jacks. Thankfully if you’re staying at the hotel you get in for free, so we walked up to my room, I dropped off a few things and we headed into the club.

We made our way to the bar while Gold Digger was playing and I just got in the zone. We went to the back area for a smoke and on the way back towards the front of the place I saw her. She was short, cute, dancing up a storm but the look in her eye said she wished she was around someone with rhythm, especially considering every guy that tried to dance with her she kinda pushed away or gave the cold shoulder to…(insert triumphant horn lick (dum duh duh dum). I started dancing by myself; we made eye contact and then started tearing up the floor for a bit. After a few songs she went back to her friends and I wandered some more. At this point Warrick said he had to take off. I thanked him for everything and informed him if he ever came to Boston he would be taken care of. He assured me if I ever come to Sydney (which I will one day) that I would be as well. Right after he took off, the music stopped and the DJ talked for a moment before the last song. Mr. Brightside came on as the last song. I walked back over to her grabbed her by the hand and went back to it. We chatted for a bit as the lights came on and then some more outside. Her name was Caoinhe, interesting name indeed. We kept chatting outside and I could sense some chemistry was beginning to brew but her friends were calling for her to bounce. She gave me her email we took a picture and she disappeared into the sea of cabs and faces like a ship going off into the sunset. I stood around outside for a bit soaking it all in for one last time.





I returned upstairs for my bags, checked out and hopped into a cab for the airport. Slightly intoxicated, somewhat tired, a bit sad but happy that my final night in Dublin was a good one. I made my way through the airport and finally onto the plane. As the plane touched off I reached into my shirt and kissed my chai (a Jewish thing for all you goyem out there) as if to say let me get to Brussels safely, let’s have a good time there and thanks for the good time in Dublin. And as the white and grey of the clouds devoured the lush green landscape of Ireland it dawned on me that I fell hook line and sinker, head of heels in love with Dublin. The culture, the drinking, the brogues, the football, the rugby; and although these several things don’t completely define Ireland or Dublin as a whole I vowed that I will most definitely return someday soon, even though I know that Warrick will be gone, and Cathy probably won’t be around. I’ll probably never hear from Anya, Claire or Caoinhe or see Broderick or Shay ever again but regardless the few people I did meet here are the characters that shaped this first part of my journey through Europe.

Day 2 in Dublin: Further proof that nothing good comes out of New Jersey

I woke up briefly to see Cathy off in the morning but immediately fell back asleep. I would finally rise from sleep at about noon, a bit hung over. After a quick breakfast at the bagel shop a few doors down from my hotel I was (somewhat) ready to explore Dublin. I knew exactly what I wanted to see. I had to go to that one special landmark that sets Dublin apart from the rest of the world; The Guinness factory. I received a map of how to get there from the women working the front desk of my hotel and decided to try and walk to it. I made my way north, up Harcourt and Grafton St. Passing the Trinity College area to the Liffey River. I walked along the river for what seemed like ages until finally I gave up and hailed a cab. I arrived at my destination and set out to learn about the fabled brew of this region. I must have spent a good two and a half hours there. The best part was reaching the top floor of the building and finding the Gravity Bar. At the Gravity Bar you could exchange your ticket for a free pint of the freshest Guinness in all of Ireland, tasty indeed. Not to mention the bar was a circular room with glass windows giving you an almost 360 degree view of all of Dublin and even though the weather reminded me of San Francisco in August it was none the less breathtaking.

























A short cab ride home and it was time to take a much needed nap. I awoke and checked my phone to find a text from Cathy saying that she was still feeling sick from the night before and would be going home after work. I would be on my own tonight. I toyed with the idea of staying in for a while but after hearing a female voice rushing down the hallway talking about “there’s a club downstairs, let’s go” in an eastern European accent I decided to freshen up. I walked through the door around midnight to find the place empty. Ordered up a beer and sat down to chill a bit. One of the bouncers who had seen me last night came over and chatted with me for a bit. A few rounds later I made a loop around the place as it had started to fill up. Clinking glasses with a few people as I walked by but my intentions of celebration and good times were met with looks of confusion. I thought to myself, what is going on here. Back to the bar, I was determined; I was now a man on a mission.

Another beer or so and I was ready to try again. I walked downstairs to the smokers section and asked this cute Irish girl for a light. As I began to strike up a conversation her three friends immediately pulled her away. This was looking bad! What the hell was going on? I knew I smelled good, body language maybe? Hhhhmmm… As I stood around the table contemplating what had just happen I was met by three ladies who wanted to share the table with me. As it turned out the three of them were from New Jersey. We cheersed over the north east and discussed what all of us north easterners do: sports, city pride etc… There was just one problem with these three. They were larger than life and excruciatingly unattractive. Now, I have no issues with plus sized women who weren't blessed in the looks department, god knows I’m not the most stunning beefcake known to the world, but when you’re unattractive, plus sized AND you have a crappy attitude, it’s even more unattractive. I know a handful of women who are big girls and not exactly attractive but they’re fun and have good attitudes. These three totally looked like the types that should not be in Dublin, rather back in South Jersey with a wardrobe full of Juicy Couture velour warm up suits taking care of three kids, smoking Marlboro light 100’s and gossiping away on the phone all day while their husband Ernesto (or, insert other generic Puerto Rican male name) is off at work making a walloping 10 dollars an hour and all she can do is bitch that he doesn’t make enough.

After chatting for a bit, the alpha female of the three decides it’s time to do some shots. I like shots! We approach the bar and take down a soco and lime shot. Next they decide it’s time to hit the dance floor. At this point I go from being slightly disgusted to utterly mortified. We dance in a circle and the alpha girl starts doing the Puerto Rican butt shake/grind as Single Ladies by Beyonce comes on. God help me. Thankfully they soon decide it’s time to have a smoke and we return to the smoking section. I grab a Guinness from the bar take a sip or two and meet back up with them, putting it on the table. Alpha girl tells me I’m buying the next round of shots soon. That’s fine, I have no problem with that but you're actually telling me this like I owe you the world? Give me a break bitch!

All of a sudden I hear that all too familiar piano melody with the underlying bass guitar, and then the lyrics come in…”Just a small town girl…Living in a lonely world…” Journey! Now, back home this song is normally held in reserve for the end of the night. It’s a song that speaks deeply to three different types of people. To the people who found each other that night it says get on the dance floor or start making out. To the people not lucky enough to find each other that night it says this is your last chance or you’re going home alone. Finally it signals the bartenders that their night is pretty much over. This is not the case here in Dublin; the club was pretty much packed at this point so that’s when they put it on, to get the crowd going. The four of us start singing along and are soon joined by the group of people next to us. We all form a large circle, drinks in the air, singing along.

Afterwards I get to chatting up this girl Anya, a cute, short Irish girl who lives in Dublin. She was there with her boyfriend and other friends. I wasn’t going to try and dash up on her, I’m a gentleman I don’t do that sort of thing. As we chatted away the three mutants started to get restless now that I wasn’t paying attention to them. Alpha girl comes over to me saying it’s time to do shots. I told her fine but let me finish this conversation first. Anya and I keep chatting and she tells me that she wants to come to Boston next summer. I fill her in on a few things and even give her my email address. In the midst of this alpha girl comes back at me again for shots. I tell her give me one minute, as Anya and I wrap up our conversation minutes later I turn around and they are gone…BUT SO IS MY GUINNESS!!! THESE TRASHY JERSEY MUTANTS STOLE MY BEER!!!!!! WHO STEALS ANOTHER MAN’S BEER???!!! Further proof that not only does nothing good come out of that state but that the difference between trash and girls from New Jersey is quite apparent.

At least they were gone and maybe this girl will hit me up when she comes to Boston. Maybe she won’t but at least I escaped the Jersey mutants. I never thought I’d say this but thank you Steve Perry! I made my way around the room again after acquiring another beer, chatting up some ladies as well as groups of people. After last call I made my way back to the room and passed out as the sun started to come up.

Dublin: Day One in D2

I arrived in Dublin early Tuesday morning; tired, anxious, and smelly. I made my way through customs and outside to the bus terminal. There I met Mike and Aaron, two kids a few years younger than I, from New York who had just graduated from Brandies the day before, on their own journey through Europe. We chatted for a bit while waiting for the right bus to take us into town. After a quiet bus ride into the city center we parted ways, wishing each other fun, safety and good luck.

After wondering around Harcourt St. trying to locate my hotel, I asked directions from a cute Irish girl whose name I can’t recall and she was nice enough to walk me to my destination. I wasn’t able to check in right away so I walked around a bit, found an internet café to waste some time in and finally checked in, very much relieved. After a much needed shower and a nap I was ready to go. I walked around “my neighborhood” a bit and found a pub named Fiele right on Wexford st. I walked in, went straight to the bar and ordered my first of many a Guinness. Honestly, it does taste different here! After a few more pints and a burger I received a text from my friend Cathy.

I met Cathy back in late January, the weekend of my birthday in New York, and then the next two weekends she spent in Boston, including a night on my couch. Cathy is a friend of my now ex-girlfriend Bekki and to be honest I was slightly hesitant to contact her at first. After admitting this to her she reassured me that if I had come to Dublin and not contacted her she would have been extremely offended. So I was feeling just fine at this point. I met Cathy and her two friends Jon and Keira at a bar off Grafton Street named the Dakota Bar. We all shared many a rounds and many laughs until Keira had to go home.





At this point Cathy and I returned to my hotel room to prepare for the long night ahead of us. As it turns out my hotel has one of the most well known night clubs in all of Dublin on the main floor. A quick session of doing our hair up right, applying cologne/perfume and watching a bit of Desperate Housewives (her idea, not mine, honest) we headed downstairs to the club which thankfully was empty at the time. This gave us some time to drink, chat about anything and everything and catch up. As the night progressed the club started to fill up. A group of about 6 women occupied the table next to us. Go figure that not only were they from Boston, but one of them, a women by the name of Noelle actually lives in the same neighborhood as me. We flirted for most of the night and after many drinks, a lock or two of the lips and some shaking of the hips, she disappeared along with her friends into the night… oh well. Cathy and I kept drinking. The club closed at about 3:30 and we retired up to my room for some shut eye. Unfortunately for Cathy she had to be at work early the next morning.

HELLO BROOKLYN!!!!!!

Hello Brooklyn, how ya doin, where ya goin? Can I come to? And if I came I’m a be yo man and be my lady and have my baby and drive ma car. –Jay-Z



To start this off I gotta say; I love New York! What an astonishing town. I don’t quite know what it is about that skyline that’s just utterly enthralling. Once you snag a glimpse of it, it just holds you in its grasp. The magnificence of it is truly the American symbol of progress and, the awe of modern industrialism co-existing with the outlandish. Driving into New York City, especially from up north is a study in contrast. You’d think it should just all of a sudden appear out of thin air. It should be like driving into Las Vegas or Albuquerque at night, total darkness and then all of a sudden…BOOM! Instead you’re met by ominously towering housing projects the moment you hit the Pelhams. All the way through the Bronx you’re reminded that while New York is a breathtaking metropolis, it is surrounded by gritty structures and urban sprawl, a factual representation that while this city is grand it’s like a cage for some, no way out. But the moment you get to the Whitestone Bridge and the view puts you in a headlock, it’s as if you’ve entered a different world.

Whenever I come to New York I feel like that kid in the candy store or the teenager with the twin turbo libido. It’s a sensory overload indeed. So much to do, so much to see and of course being a Bostonian, never having enough time to see it all, or even a chunk of it for that matter. To the point where I’ve toyed several times with the idea of picking myself up and transplanting down here. Indeed I’m fixated on this place.

I stayed the night in Brooklyn with my good friend Lenny and his sweetheart of a girlfriend Emily. Lenny is one of those guys, like the majority of my friends whom I found running through the streets of Boston at the tender age of 14. Pissed off at the world and drunk. Punk rock is what brought us together. Though [most of us] are a bit older, wiser and refined, punk rock is a sort of bond that we all share, whether we’re still into the music or not. As much as we may hate to admit to it, it’s a part of us.



But to be honest there are two things I truly love about New York other then the fact that so many things are open until all hours are quite simple things I’m sure most people who call it home take for granted. I am infatuated with the fact that you can walk into a corner store at 4:35am on a Sunday and pick up a bottle of shampoo, a pack of gum, a six pack of beer and a hot pastrami on rye. I ask you…WHY IS THIS THE ONLY PLACE IN AMERICA THAT DOES THIS!!!!!!! Also it’s the fact that when you call an area a neighborhood, it actually feels like one. The corner stores, bars, restaurants, dry cleaners, and other small independent businesses are a reminder that neighborhoods are supposed to be filled with businesses by the people who live there, not corporate run businesses. You can’t walk two blocks in Brooklyn without seeing any one of these types of establishments. This is America! No one in an urban setting should have to walk 10 minutes to grab a bite or a pint.

Whenever I come to New York experiences and fun come first, sleep always seems to be secondary. Honestly who visits New York to sleep? Save that for Salt Lake City or Mobile. This short trip to New York (as all the other ones I’ve taken in the last 4 years) has reminded me of this. After a lackluster 5 hours on a Lucky Star bus, all I wanted to do was get to my destination and let the good times roll. I vividly recall strolling down Grand Ave suitcase rolling with a smirk on my face and a peculiar assurance like I had walked this street a million times. Maybe it was the realization that in 24 hours I’d be on the rocky road (or should I say flight) to Dublin.
Within a half hour or so we were at the bar. What’s amazing about where Lenny lives is that the nearest drinking establishment is out the front door, turn right and walk into the next door to the Boulevard Tavern. The Boulevard is a small hole in the wall bar owned by a Norwegian metal head named Nick. Plus all weekend long once the weather turns, there’s a guy out back grilling up hamburgers and hot dogs for a wallet busting 5 dollars ALL YOU CAN EAT!! On top of this all the beers don’t go over 5 dollars a pint. And then there’s the working man special; a Budweiser bottle and a filled to the rim shot of Jack Daniels. Along with Lenny and I was my good friend Alain, who is someone I’ve known since summer camp days and thanks to advancements in social networking websites, reconnected with him. Lenny and I walked back up to his apartment at about 3:30am filled with beer and burgers. Good night.





The next morning I woke up rather early as I usually do from a night of fire water consumption and had issues falling back asleep. So I stayed awake writing this. After some time had passed I kept myself busy by doing a combination of filling my Itunes with music from Lenny’s collection and watching Casino Royale while Lenny did some work for his job. At around 11 we ordered some delivery, and ate up while watching the rest of the movie. Afterwards we took a walk around Brooklyn. Snapping some photo’s as we went along and eventually stopping at a little hole in the wall record store. There we met Mike, an old school punk rock guy who had played in such old school bands like Furious George and Blank 77. After waxing nostalgic there we continued our trek through Brooklyn, eventually returning to his apartment so I could gather my things for my long journey east. Lenny walked me to the train and I was off on my first of many unknown journeys. I had never taken the New York transit system very far before so this was a new experience for me. I made it to JFK, acquired my boarding pass and headed outside for a quick smoke. Outside I met Alix, a man who worked for Delta who was nice enough to take me around the corner to another entrance so I didn’t have to deal with a long security checkpoint line. After passing through security I hung out in the terminal and eventually boarded the plane. It took almost an hour to take off due to 16 other planes in front of use. Thankfully due to the runway we were taking off from I was able to snap some quality photos of the New York skyline as the sun set.





The plane took off and as I watched with excitement New York and Long Island passed my window view and I knew at that point that my journey had begun!

1 week from now...

I'll be in Dublin. I've always wanted to see Ireland and since my stay will be short it might as well be Dublin. Growing up in Boston my whole life and diving into the drinking scene since I was of legal age (ok, well maybe a bit before that for which I can thank Jesse and Nate for) the Irish pub is the atypical spot to grab a beer with friends. Sure there are the other bars (sports bars, dive bars, nightclubs, strip clubs, fancy bars etc…) but nothing truly screams traditional Boston to me more than the Irish pub. I mean c’mon other then maybe New York or possibly even Chicago, Boston is truly little Ireland USA. I look forward to sampling a true Guinness from a true Irish pub. Eating at a Chipper and seeing exactly what it is about Dublin that sets it apart from the rest of the world’s cities. Honestly, if I could find a small pub with a group of musicians playing traditional Irish music in the corner that would make my trip to Ireland. I want to hear the bagpipes, accordion, tin whistle, fiddle and guitars all coming together, perfectly harmonizing and complimenting each other into a tradition Irish folk song. Everyone knows the Fields of Athenry or Back Home in Derry. I want the true thing. Grab a pint and sing along.
Now, my whole reason for going to Europe is not to just get inebriated every night and fall on my face into a pool of my own vomit. I admit there will be some of that (minus the vomit part), I do plan on doing some drinking of authentic foreign beer and bars and clubs. I want to see everything I can. Yes, I will most certainly hit up some of the tourist destinations like La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, The Jewish quarter in Prague, The War Museum in Brussels and others but I want to this journey to be a smidgen more “Bourdain-esque.” I want to see what the locals see. Eat and drink like they do. Maybe I have been watching too much travel channel, but to truly understand a foreign city, its culture and its people you have to do a bit more than see its sights.

Until next time.