in pursuit of fiddles
At last, my Textile Exchange conference crew was reunited in Dublin! Between opening sessions and the welcome reception on Monday, we snuck in High Tea at the Lord Mayor’s Lounge.
Much tea was both consumed and spilled as we all caught up IRL for the first time in two years!
I’m glad we took some time to relax at tea, because the rest of the conference was a whirlwind. A ton of learning, a ton of connecting, and a ton of feeling super grateful to be together in person again. Here are some shots from the week:
The Ferryman. The conference was in the Docklands area of Dublin, which has become Ireland’s tech hub. I loved this little pub that refused to blend in with Meta next door. (Also, ew, Meta.)
Incredible breakfast and coffee at 3FE, a short walk from our hotel.
Stumbling into Narnia at Powerscourt Centre.
Next level Christmas cheer at The Ginger Man pub.
I was happy to rediscover the pleasure of long dinners with likeminded industry friends. Every night I enlisted old and new pals on my quest to find fiddles in Dublin… and every night we failed! On our last night together, getting desperate, I cajoled our large group on a taxi ride goose chase to follow a lead given to me by a local. And… eureka!
Thank god! Why was this so hard?? Found em at The Cobblestone.
On the closing day of the conference Friday, we said our goodbyes and set off to get our rental car. Zack, Margot, Carol and I were going on a little road trip before flying back to the States Sunday. After a minor rental car location mishap that led to a long, romantic walk along minor highways next to the airport, we met the sweetest gals ever at Enterprise and headed to Howth.
We stopped in Dublin to get our Covid tests needed to reenter the US (gulp), then high tailed it to Galway for our 730 dinner reservation. Zack and I introduced the geriatric millenials to Olivia Rodrigo, then did some Britney trivia (Zack won). All told, it took us about two and a half hours to traverse the country from east to west.
Galway was misty and dark when we arrived. It was smaller than Dublin and had a distinct vibe. A little nautical, a little stark, a lot cute. Margot had found the perfect place for dinner, Ard Bia, where we had the best meal of the trip. We were also delighted to find that the Galway Christmas market was open, so we were able to fulfill our European mulled wine dreams.
As if Galway hadn’t stolen our hearts already, we heard soft music tinkling out of a pub called Tigh Neachtain… fiddles!!! But that wasn’t all!!! Once the musicians stopped, a man not two feet from us and our Guinnesses broke out in a BEAUTIFUL, SAD BALLAD!!! Everyone in the pub hushed to listen. I died of happiness.
The next morning we got up early, still buzzing from our perfect night before. Well, the happy reminiscing turned to angry harumphing when we saw our car was booted! (or in Ireland, “Clamped”!) Turns out asshole landlords are asshole landlords everywhere, even in magical Ireland…. and I committed the horrible crime of putting our parking pass upside down on the dash, leading to the boot. We paid a cool 125 euro to be released, and went on our grumpy way.
Well, it is not easy to be mad when it’s a Saturday morning in Ireland and you’re on a road trip and you’re listening to A Celtic Christmas playlist on Spotify, so we got over it in about 7 minutes. And, our kind AirBnB host partially refunded us when we told him about the meanie landlord, reaffirming my belief that 99.9% of people in Ireland are outrageously nice!
We took the long way to the Cliffs of Moher through Burren National Park. Before lunch, we made it to the Cliffs, which were definitely a bucket list item for me!
We found the delicious Vaughan’s Anchor Inn for lunch by accident, which won the best lunch of the trip for me with yum fish chowder and thick brown bread. Mmmm.
From there, we headed back to Dublin, again on narrow and beautiful backroads. Along the way we found an incredible old church and cemetery.
The sun was setting and the air was crisp. It was my last night of my first trip to Ireland. A few days before, I had learned that my 95 year old grandma had died back in Boston. My first feeling was guilt that I hadn’t been home, but I knew that my grandma was proud of my adventures. I looked at the pink sky reflecting off a distant lake, and felt grateful for my time with my grandma, for the past week reconnecting with my Irish heritage, and for the opportunity to be right there, right then.
We made it back to Dublin, negative Covid tests in hand. After a fun night out at Lumo, we parted ways in the morning and headed home. As Thanksgiving approached, Omicron took over the news headlines, making our week of connecting both as colleagues and as friends feel even more special. I’ll be holding the memories tight this winter.
This concludes my Ireland report, but not to fear, I am already plotting to return…
