On our last full day in Edinburgh, David was feeling too sick to join us at Holyrood Palace, so Mom and I claimed a girls’ day for touring and shopping. It was lovely strolling through the Palace and taking in an art exhibit Mom had been excited about seeing. The artist’s name—Artemisia—was almost identical to her own mother’s name (my grandma), Artemisa, which made the visit feel a little extra special. I also treasured having that time with Mom, just the two of us.
Afterwards, we had lunch on Princes Street at a cozy tea house with a view of the castle looming in the distance like a watchful guardian over our scones. We picked up a few souvenirs for Dad and Adam, then headed back to the guesthouse to rest up.
The next day, we traded Scotland for Ireland, traveling to Dublin for two nights before heading into the countryside. Our hotel was comfortable but tucked into a rougher part of town—nothing too dramatic, just a little more “gritty” than “quaint.”
The Dublin we encountered felt very different from the one I visited eight years ago—busier, louder, and loads more homelessness. Still, we managed to track down shepherd’s pie and a pint of Guinness near the Molly Malone statue for our first official Irish meal. Yes, we’d cheated with Guinness in Scotland, but it’s freshest in Dublin, and you can taste the difference.
While Mom and David went to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College, I embarked on a far less scholarly mission: finding a replacement suitcase at TK Maxx (and no, that’s not a typo—Europe’s TJ Maxx goes by TK). We regrouped to wander through the Temple Bar area, which tested David’s patience. He has yet to master the subtle art of aimless wandering, preferring destinations to detours, and his anxiety was starting to wind up mine. This is why my list of pre-approved travel companions is highly selective—and even the chosen few undergo periodic re-evaluations. Don’t worry, Mom, you’ve got lifetime privileges. You’ve literally earned them by giving me life.
Later that day, we dove into the Guinness Storehouse experience, capping it off with our complimentary pints at the Gravity Bar, the city skyline unfolding beneath us. After dinner, we turned in early—big day tomorrow. We’d rented a car to drive around Ireland. And by “we,” I mean David is driving while Mom and I close our eyes and white-knuckle it. I can’t decide if my heart is pounding from his driving, the roads barely wider than bike paths, or the trucks appearing around bends like jump scares in a horror movie. Probably all three.
There She Goes... 