Review: The Irish Whiskey Museum

In honor of my upcoming weekend I’d like to post a little ode to the Irish Whiskey Museum. Hopefully I haven’t done this already, but anyways here it goes.

The Irish Whiskey Museum is located in Dublin, Ireland probably 10 steps 10 minutes from the Dublin Castle. Anyone that’s been out drinking with me in the past 2-3 years knows that my drink of choice is a whiskey ginger (now I prefer bourbon but who’s keeping track) so when I first realized that going to Ireland for a visit was possible (and extremely affordable, thank you Ryanair) the top travel destination on my list was for sure this glorious museum. Now I’m also a huge fan of castles (shout out to Romania for blowing my mind) so when we went to the Dublin Castle and learned it would be an hour and and a half wait until we could enter the castle we logically decided to hit up the museum in the meantime. You’ll definitely have to forgive me on my lack of details on this post because I can’t remember much about the museum except for the fact that we got a flight of whiskey when we were done.

Here’s a complete list of things I do for sure remember

  1. The Whiskey was FRESH AF
  2. It was around 12 noon when we entered and we had not eaten breakfast
  3. Our tour guide was Irish (duh) didn’t catch half of what he said
  4. IMG_4761
  5. They had a room full of like all the whiskey bottles ever created, it was awesome
  6. There was a really weird section where they re-enacted the 4 whiskey powerhouses
  7. Like it was weird holograms of them and they were fighting with each other
  8. Don’t ask me who they are
  9. Actually I remember Tullamore Dew
  10. Is Johnny Walker a whiskey?IMG_4770
  11. Here are the whiskey’s (after I drank one two)
  12. I stole a glass but don’t know where I put it
  13. IMG_4788
  14. This is us after we forced ourselves behind the bar to take photos with our guide
  15. IMG_4800
  16. This is the meal we ate after we left
  17. I don’t remember any of the Dublin Castle

Thanks Ireland! I love you.

The not so glamorous p1

Traveling can be a great, beautiful and wonderful eye opening experience. But do people ever talk about the not so glamorous side of traveling?

You know- when your stuck in traffic trying to get crosstown in London to make your flight to Spain? Or when your staying in an air bnb in Amsterdam and can’t figure out for the life of you how to use the washer and end up fucking up all your underwear? Or accidentally drinking the water in Morocco and having to go to a pharmacy in Romania just to get meds so you’ll stop shitting your pants?

Nope. Not a peep of this. Well all of these these instances are true and have all happened to me so let’s get into it. 

I hope I took the right doses because Google translate did not help with this one


I’ve been to Morocco twice. First time I was a cautious Cathy. Didn’t drink the water, didn’t use ice cubes in my drinks and didn’t even brush my teeth without a bottle nearby. Luckily I escaped unscathed. The second time I was a little more ballsy and had been already traveling for about 2 weeks at that point. I brushed my teeth with the water, ordered ice in every drink and even let a little shower water get in my mouth after a particularly rough hike and I felt fine! Until I didn’t. Towards the end of my Morocco trip I started to feel a little funny, which I merely chalked up to travelers stomach (yes, it’s a real thing). When I got to Sevilla a few days later I knew something was definitely wrong so I stocked up on some trusty digestive cookies (a real Spanish staple) and kept it moving. However it wasn’t until  a week later when I found myself in Romania driving back from Draculas castle that I knew something was wrong. 

Clearly too excited to notice the rumbling going on beneath the surface. 

As we were rounding a corner entering a small town I  thought to myself “this is it. This is the moment when your life will change forever because you’re literally about to poop in your pants”. My life flashed before my eyes and I actually almost cried. Real question. Have you ever almost shit your pants? Like clenching your butt cheeks, praying, vision going blurry shit your pants. It’s like you can see the future and it’s not bright, you know from that moment on your life will forever be divivded into two parts like BC and AC. BS and AS – before shitting and after shitting. Just imagine for a second what your life you would be like if you actually pooped your pants at the age of 27 and were not drunk or had a serious illness. Anyways, In the middle of her story I blurted out UHIHAVETOFINDABATHROOMLIKENOW.  

Luckily my travel companion knew me well enough to know that it was an emergency, we found a somewhat abadoned restaurant, waddled our way inside and the rest is history. When we got back to Bucarest we made a beeline to the nearest pharmacy. Lucky for me Europes pharmacies are very different from Americas. In these pharmacies you walk in, tell the pharmacist what’s wrong with you and bam. You got your meds. No questions, no prescription, no nothing. So to the pharmacist in old town Romania. Thank you for saving my intensities, my dignity and my wallet. Although I have no idea what these boxes say because I speak approximately 0 words of Romanian, as far as I’m concerned these are little miracles in a box and cost a whopping $4. 

So ladies an gentlemen the lesson here is to never drink the water in Morocco,  always have a pepto bismal handy when traveling and never be ashamed about trying to explain to a random Romanian stranger that you need meds to stop you from violently pooping your pants. It happens to the best of us.

Happy Travels!!  

The only thing I could eat in Bucarest 

The travels

So obviously I’m here, but here’s a throwback to my final freakout in America.

—————————————–

The countdown has begun and it is less than a couple of weeks until my departure time. My room is packed (ish) goodbye have been said (ish) and I’m totally ready (ish) to leave. So let us continue with our normally scheduled program.

Step 6 – Say your goodbyes. This is the most cliché thing I’ve ever said but it’s true – there’s never a perfect time to pick up and leave. You can always find a reason to stay and not say goodbye. I look at life in parts – personal and professional, some people might say when one is good the other is not, while one is flourishing the other must suffer for me this was not the case. At the time that I made my decision to apply everything was going just peachy; my job was great, my milkshake was bringing all the boys to the yard (well not all, just one) and one of my best friends was planning her move to the city. Why would I want to leave? Lucky for me life is not kind and what comes up must ultimately come down. The boy left the yard, my job started completely changing and the rollercoaster was back down. I got into the program and was ready to leave, like yesterday, but of course a few weeks before my departure things started to look up. Once again and I questioned myself, is this the right time? Things are going so well for me again, am I making a mistake? WTF am I doing. I’m leaving in the middle of my lease, quitting a perfectly good job (with a ton of perks might I add) to go and flail around in a city I’ve never been too, I don’t even know anyone on my program and will be jobless. Whereas in New York – I’m making new friends, the job change might not be so bad, and the yard, well you get the point. There is no such thing as perfect timing, something will always be off balance, but you just have to ask yourself, is this is as close too perfect as you’re going to get? If the answer is yes, then do it.

 

Step 6.5 – The goodbye parties. If you’re like me and went to school and now work in the same city you’ve probably amassed a good amount of friends who will want to say goodbye with lots and lots of parties. My departure just also happened to fall around the holidays so tie in Holiday parties and you’re looking at a massive set back in your savings. Usually I’m always down to party, rounds of shots, goodbye dinners, the whole shebang but remember you’re supposed to budgeting. My advice and life motto – ball on a budget. Have a goodbye happy hour, host a brunch at your apartment, and that creepy guy in the bar who offers to buy you a drink? Just say yes – you’ll be happy you saved the $11 later.

 

Step 7 – Do not share your business with everyone. Believe you me, not everyone will get, or understand why you’re leaving and they will doubt you 10349%. At the time of my acceptance here were the 3 things I heard ‘Is this really a good time in your career to be doing something like this?’, uh I think yes, it is and I don’t think I signed up to sit on a beach and paint my nails (although I would absolutely love that) ‘What about finding a boyfriend? You’ve talked about wanting to get married what about that?’ So apparently now it’s impossible to leave the country for a few months and still get married. My absolute favorite one is ‘well it seems like things were going great for you and now they’re not and you’re just running’….and your point is? Whether I’m running from my problems, looking for scratch a travel itch or just happened to apply and be accepted into a program that is starting with timing that makes it seems like all of the above is none of your business. The justification for why and how you do what you’re doing is nobody’s business. If you want to share, then share if you’re escaping something, escape. Do what you want – you don’t have to explain, justify or reason with anyone (except maybe your wallet, but we’ve already covered that part).

 

Step 8 – Start packing. Ok this might seem pretty obvious but if you’re like and have been living in your same apartment for the past 3 years you have accumulated a ton of stuff and need to seriously do a cleanse. I started this process at the end of the summer and am so grateful – thus far I’ve sent about 5 suitcases full of things home and given away 4 bags of clothes. Thank you fall cleaning. Especially if you’re subletting your apartment to someone you don’t know. You would be surprised at how therapeutic this whole process has been for me – I’ve learned a lot about myself, my shopping habits, my hoarding habits – I’m shocked at how many packs of sticky notes I have actually. But really it’s an interesting exercise having to pack your life in suitcases 0- trying to think ahead to the next 4 or 5 months of your life, what you will and won’t need, what you can and can’t survive without. Even if you’re not traveling try some fall cleaning see what it does for your spirit and your wallet! I like many people have eyes bigger than my wallet and tend to occasionally splurge on items I cannot afford – because of this I’ve amassed quite the collection of designer handbags and clothes that are new or slightly used. Take this as an opportunity to either sell or donate your clothes and other gently used items. I know there are a ton of sites but for me eBay’s always been the best. It’s super easy out use, there are a ton of items on there from shirts, to shoes, accessories jewelry etc so you can sell literally almost anything on there. Alternatively, if you want to donate your items be sure to ask for receipts for tax returns! Just think about how nice it will be to see a couple hundred extra dollars pop up in your bank account while your browsing the baths of Budapest!

One night I went out with my friend and she met this cute guy. He hailed a cab for us to go home.. Until I realized they weren’t in the cab. I was literally paid to go away so he could hook up with her

Pharmacist: Oh I’m sorry I didn’t fill this prescription because this medication is usually given to middle aged men with kidney stones and um well you didn’t exactly fit that description.

Me: Well, yea. I had kidney stones.

Only in the Bronx can you go to Wendy’s and find a new mother, with her three day old baby, eating a cheeseburger on the condiments counter

“I’m grateful for the loud music always being played outside my window”

-#bronxblockparties

Stop telling me to smile

If there’s one thing you cannot avoid while being a living women, it’s the phrase “hey baby why don’t you smile”

Most likely it won’t be uttered by some hunky business man, a Micheal Ealy type perhaps who finds you crying the rain under a weeping willow on a hot summer day. It will come from a creeper, ages 55+, probably homeless.

Stop telling me to smile.

images

“Why don’t you smile sweetheart?”

Why don’t I smile? Lets examine a few reasons why I’m not smiling.

Because you decided to bring your creepy presence into my otherwise serene and peaceful world, because someone just said “God bless you” (if you’re not a pastor, please don’t take this as a real blessing). I’m not smiling because for some reason the places I used to hang out in are no longer appropriate for my age. The movie theater I used to go, to the restaurants I used to frequent. They’ve been infested with teeny boppers. Teeny boppers who look uncomfortably mature, like they could be my age. I can’t party like I used to, boozy brunches are no longer a Saturday tradition and neither are 5 hour Sunday naps. I’m grumpy because it’s the first week of Spring and we’ve already had snow. I’m not smiling because I live at home, I’m underemployed, and I’m sad.

If you want to see someone smile, go home, step in front of your bathroom mirror and enjoy.

The bottom line is this, No, I will not smile for you no matter how nicely you ask.