Queen of Tarts

I’m back in Ireland and Amanda is here for the first time. We’re staying right downtown in the Temple Bar area for convenience. We stayed in bed a little longer than usual because we arrived at the hotel at 1130 last night. I took my 8 am pills with some chips from the airport. We rolled out around 930 to Queen of Tarts for breakfast. My body wanted something nutritious, so I ordered granola with yogurt and blueberries. Amanda was contemplating the carmel pecan banana cake. I urged her to get it. No regrets. 

We booked the 1916 Walking Tour. The tour met on Wicklow street at 1130. The tour met in a pub and started in the cellar. The tour guide was the hilarious and entertaining Lorcan Collins. I know a bit about Irish history and the Easter Rising of 1916, but there’s a lot of names and factions to keep track of in Irish history, which is never as simple as it might seem. The issue has always been- who’s in charge? The Irish, the British, or some complex, convoluted combination. 

What Amanda found most interesting, was that the Irish flag has only been around since 1848. Also helpful to know is the first thing Irish rebels did when they took over the GPO General Post Office was smash all the windows. If you’re anticipating a shootout with the enemy, you don’t want glass fucking up your life as well as incoming fire and explosions. Thank me later. 

We ducked out of the tour after 2 hours. From glancing around the crowd I’d say we weren’t the only ones ready to wrap it up. He said he was going to one more place, so we just headed out the opposite door. Gotta do what you gotta do. Take charge. 

A silent guardian. A watchful protector

We had awesome Guinness casseroles for lunch at a pub near Henry street. After lunch, we stopped at The Hot Donut because they looked irresistible. We’re leaving early for Belfast, so I figured I was ordering breakfast. We bought a salty caramel, Boston creme, and Oreo. We strolled back to the hotel, and in the elevator I had a romantic notion, so I whispered “I don’t know if I want to fuck my wife or eat donuts.”

Let me tell you about these donuts. They were not the best  I’ve ever had. They were good. The salty caramel was better than the Oreo. Everything can’t be the best. I have a reputation to uphold as a fair and balanced food critic. 

After a siesta, Amanda decided on the Hairy Lemon for dinner. She had the cottage pie and I had chicken curry. Neither one was that good. Dinner was overshadowed by the news I broke to Amanda. We were planning on getting tattoos together in Belfast. I had been thinking about it, and decided it wasn’t worth the risk. There’s a chance of infection and my body couldn’t fight it with no immune system. Plus, I’ve been getting huge bruises from blood draws, and that’s a single needle stick - a tattoo would be thousands. Some risks are worth taking, some are not.  We shall see...