Dún Laoghaire or Bust

When I travel, I try to commit to mastering, or at least getting a solid handle on, whatever form of public transport a city offers. In Paris, I got on and off the Métro with liberal usage of “pardon,” but I still managed to get from Point A to Point B. In London, I felt as comfortable on the tube as I feel on the CTA. So far while in Dublin, I’ve managed myself pretty well on the city bus and the DART. Taking the DART to Dún Laoghaire, the system was far cleaner, comfier, and easier to use than I ever expected. The only real trip up seemed to be the tag-on-tag-off system of ticketing that jogged my memory as being eerily similar to London’s system—therefore, a piece of cake.

 The Sunday market in People’s Park is a must hit for foodies and families alike. Even in the winter off-season, there are several stalls and purveyors of food and goods alike happy to serve you. Perhaps something from Crêpes in the City  will make your stomach grumble even through it can’t have been more than an hour since breakfast. Yes, this was my exact situation and yes, I did remedy said situation with a crêpe. Specifically one filled with ham, cheese, sundried tomato pesto, and salad greens—not the easiest thing to eat but filling and warm on a chilly, yet typical, Irish winter day. The chocolate and marshmallow filled option also caught my eye and seems like the perfect fare to sit and admire all of the dogs in the park. If you make it down to the shore and brave the wind without wimping out, kudos to you. I think I lasted a total of twenty minutes before my hands started to cramp up from the cold. Shame me for forgetting my gloves. The view from the pier is quite expansive and on better days it seems like it would be well worth it to wander out to the lighthouse or take in some of the local performers with an ice cream in hand.

 Walking back towards dry land, you may think you’ve stumbled into a Wes Anderson movie when you spot the Royal Marine Hotel farther up the embankment. A pale shade of pink, with ornate white trimmings, the hotel resembles a perfectly frosted cake and would fit right in with the (sadly) fictional Society of the Crossed Keys. The lobby of the hotel doesn’t match the candy-coated exterior but with a cup of Earl Grey in hand, looking out at the Irish Sea, who wouldn't want to imagine Bill Murray as your concierge, standing diligently behind the front desk awaiting your beck and call?