Photo Essay Part One: The Back of Maggie's Head Goes to Ireland

Here are my absolute favorite pictures from my eight day vacation in Scotland and Ireland. I can't help that 90% of them are of Maggie. And that most of those were taken from stalkery angles by your's truly.
The rest will go up on Facebook when I spend the month of May crying about how much I miss being abroad.  Thank you and goodnight.

In Dublin, we learned about the famine!

And went to St. Patrick's Cathedral.

This is the gift shop in St. Patrick's Cathedral. I can't decide if it's perfect or perfectly innapropriate.

The Back of Maggie's Head explores the innards of St. Pat's.

A copy of Handel's Messiah!!! Because he rehearsed it in St. Patrick's! Where I was! Such a nerd-out moment.

The Organ Fund in St. Patrick's is a keg. I am sensing a trend.

The Back of Maggie's Head admires some beautious stained glass.

Johnathon Swift's Death Mask. Creepy and amazing.

His grave!

Yes, feast your eyes! I am practically bro'ing out with J-Swift. He wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Pretending that we are grad students at Trinity College.

John, our life-saving tour guide, who doesn't have to pretend that he is a grad student at Trinity College because he actually is one.

One of my favorite parts about Dublin was the dynamic - one minute you can be on a busy street and the next, hanging out with giant swans in a lovely park like this!

This park had a statue of Oscar Wilde being a gangster. Glorious.

Upon my request to do something crazy with the statue, both Maggie and John lunged for his ankles. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Mr. and Mrs. Mayor in front of the Mayor of Dublin's house.

The Back of Maggie's Head discovers that the Monument of Light on O'Connell Street is even taller than we thought.

Classic: one side of the sky was bright, the other was stormy. Also, fun fact: that white building is The General Post Office where the Easter Rising took place at the beginning of the 20th century.  You can still see where people threw potatoes, I mean shot, at each other because there are marks all over the columns.

The Back of Maggie's Head pretends to be a monument.

The Front of Maggie's Head pretends to live in this ornate room in the Writer's Museum (where I am sure her picture will be someday).

The muses of Music and Literature in the windows of the Writers Museum. Nom.

Children at the protest!

Not the St. Patrick's Day parade, much to my surprise and dismay.

Maggie and John show their affection for each other and whiskey in front of the Jameson Factory.

Our very informative tour guide shows us how to brew whiskey.  He also showed us a crappy movie about buckled shoes and some diaramas of stuffed cats.  But I swear I learned a lot.

We got picked to be whiskey taste testers! And then we got diplomas.  Guess we can quit college now (just kidding, Mom).

My two Dubliners were getting miffed that I was taking so many pictures of the backs of their heads.

I am sure James Joyce has the same picture framed in his room.

The Back of Maggie's Head gets a taste of Temple Bar, probably the most touristy area of Dublin.

They can't decide on a nationality.

Off to Dalkey, a small town on the coast.

Such a precious little library!

The view from atop Dalkey Castle, where we got a very interesting tour from a good lady in costume.

Here she is.

I really liked her until she put me in the stocks! Rude!

Standard latrine picture.

Dalkey Castle's graveyard - probably haunted by past actors who didn't make it to the West End.

John tries out The Wailing Wall. I didn't hear anything. Womp womp.

The Back of Maggie's Head checks out the ruins around the castle.

Apparently, Dalkey is well off. Here is a house surrounded by both ivy and palm trees. I want.

The Back of Maggie's Head and Young John explore the incredible neighborhood along the coast.  Note the yellow trees - it was like springtime there! Rich people have all the fun!

My Summer House.

Tons of boats and a sneak peak at Dalkey Island, which we were obsessing over on the shore.  It didn't look like anyone was over there, and there were no boats going back and forth from the mainland, so we figured that we would just have to look at it.

Content with just admiring from afar.

Trying to distract myself from the disappointment of not being able to get over to the island.

BUT WAIT! What is this? A boat?! Aka our knight in shining wellies! This beautiful man took us around the island, showed us baby seals, and then dropped us off for an hour free of charge.  Proof that there are still good people in the world.

Amazing spectacular ruins on the island.

It felt like no one had ever stepped on this grass before.

We were extremely excited.

I have about a thousand of these.

Proof I was there and incredibly happy.

Where the seals live!

Freaking cool carvings on a rock, like the ones I saw in museums! Gahhh!!

The second I walked into this old church, I felt creeped out. To a point where I was feeling panicky.

And no wonder! This was painted on the wall inside.

Awkward! I guess people have been here before.

Well, they didn't say anything about Americans, so I guess we're safe.

Ruins! That I was in!

I think this was used for defense.  Whatever it was, it was massive, intimidating, and surreal.

Um, goats? Yes please!

Running back to catch the boat so we didn't have to live on the island forever. We really loved it, but not that much.

Catching the train back home.

This is P.J. Murphy.  He runs an old apothocary where James Joyce used to buy his lemon soap. Now, the shop is full of used books and trickets.  Mr. Murphy was a great storyteller and knows a lot of famous people. Or so I was told.

Honestly, this was the perfect way to end our wonderful time in Dublin.

 Up Next: The Back of Maggie's Head Goes to Scotland.