May 10 took us out of Dublin and into the charming coastal village of Howth, pronounced like “oath” (Irish spelling never fails to surprise). The day was packed with oddities, ocean views, and one of the loudest horns I’ve ever heard.
Our first stop was the Hurdy Gurdy Radio Museum, perched on a hill overlooking the sea. While the museum itself was small and a bit chaotic, I was fascinated by the snippets of static radio signals playing in the background—like eavesdropping on a world half-lost to time.
The tour guide had an incredibly thick Irish dialect, which made him difficult to understand at times, but I genuinely loved listening to the way he spoke. His passion for vintage radios and Morse code gadgets was clear, and the artifacts—like the Mickey Mouse radio and the old gramophone—were little treasures in themselves.
Oh, and he did warn us before blasting a car horn from the early 20th century…thankfully.Afterward, we explored Howth’s legendary fish and chips scene. The guide recommended a spot said to be the best in Ireland.
It was good—the batter was crispier and lighter than others I’ve tried—but I still might prefer the one from earlier in the trip. The real feast, though, came in the form of views. We hiked up to Howth Cliffs, and the panorama was absolutely breathtaking—wildflowers in bloom, seagulls circling like guardians of the coast, and the sea stretching out into infinity.
From there, we wandered down to the harbor market, where I picked up a Claddagh ring—a traditional Irish symbol of love and loyalty. I originally looked for one with my birthstone, but ended up choosing a simple clear stone that felt right. We capped off the afternoon with ice cream (Nutella flavor!) and browsed cozy sweater shops before heading to the boat tour.
The boat ride around the island was a highlight. We saw puffins bobbing on the waves and even spotted a few seals poking their heads up from the surf. The salty air and ocean wind made it feel like we were stepping outside time.
When we returned to shore, we took off our shoes and walked along the beach, collecting seashells from the tide-soaked sand.
Back in Dublin that evening, I made a quick salmon-and-potato dinner, and then some of us regrouped at Dudley’s, where I got way too competitive at foosball. (He beat me by one point, but I’m not bitter.) There was even a guy there who seemed like a regular, practicing solo like a foosball monk.
Today reminded me that travel isn’t just about checking off monuments—it’s about being present. Whether it’s listening to an unfamiliar dialect, climbing a hill just to see what’s up there, or buying a ring because it feels like it belongs on your hand, these moments—odd, beautiful, spontaneous—are what make the experience matter.
