Where Would I Go If I Had A Helicopter At My Disposal?

2 Feb

The Emerald Isle.

How could one not want to visit a place titled as such? 

Seriously. What an incredible HD image my brain likes to conjure up when I hear that most famed nickname mentioned in the slightest.

I don’t know why, but this is one place I never made it when I was living overseas, and I truly regret it, deep down in the pit of my travelbug heart.

Amsterdam, meh. I didn’t care that I missed out on a red light district and decriminalized hash in their coffee shops. Poland and Austria, hmm. They just didn’t seem exotic enough to me after living in culturally similar, neighboring Germany for so many years.

But Ireland, wow. I fully expect to get lost wandering some cobbled streets and meet my husband. (Well, it would probably be more like: I’m inebriated on my favorite, favorite, Guinness, in some pub, and he’s some bloke on a stool near me…)

I need to see how green it is. I need to drink a *real* Black & Tan. I need to see the land of Cecelia Ahern, Frank McCourt and James Joyce, et cetera, et cetera.

There’s a lot I need to do.

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