The free walking tour I had done my first day in Dublin offered discounted tickets for the Irish Whiskey Museum, and one thing I don’t need much convincing for is a tour and tasting of anything alcohol related. Part of the reason why I’ve learned to enjoy these experiences as much as I do (even though they often can be tourist traps) is because it’s an interesting lens through which to learn the history of the country you’re in.
So after checking out and leaving my luggage in their storage (I literally don’t know how I would function while traveling if it weren’t for hostels’ luggage storage), I made my way to the bus stop to wait for my bus to Glendalough and got on my phone to book a THIRD hostel in Dublin. I got pretty used to changing sleeping locations every night on the Trans Siberian/Mongolian trip this past January, but we were always either in a new city or on our way to a new city when that happened. So three hostels over three nights in a single city feels a little excessive.
You know that super cheesy cliché, “you should do one thing every day that scares you,” that is attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt? Well I’m terrified of heights. I have been for pretty much as long as I can remember. Not in a way that’s debilitating: I’m generally able to push through but it’s always with a feeling of impending doom in my stomach that makes me want to vomit and go crying to my mommy. I remember almost pissing myself the first time I flew in a plane (which was when I was 15, flying from Atlanta to Frankfurt) because I was so scared of being that high up. While I’m not that scared of heights anymore, I still get a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I’m higher than a few stories without a solid wall in front of me. The Cliffs of Moher is a really solid location to face that fear and today I did just that.