The first and only time I have ever been to Ireland was when I was seven years old. My family was in England for about a week when my parents decided to take the ferry through the Irish Sea towards Dublin. They woke us one morning and told us that day would be the day we headed out on our journey. My sisters and I were so excited to explore a new country, and to see where my family grew up hundred of years agoAs we approached the ferry terminal, I could see the sky getting dark and stormy. My seven-year-old mind didn’t think much of it until we were on the water. It began to pour rain and the ferry began to rock as the choppy water grabbed hold of us. Everyone around us was getting seasick; my parents told us to sleep and rest until we docked. We were frightened beyond all measure, and my sisters and I held each other, even after we were safely on shore.
Once we arrived on shore, we stumbled around the outskirts of Dublin in the dark, searching for a place to grab a bite to eat. We managed to find a small pub where they were still serving food. We huddled in and found a table easily in the nearly- empty pub. We scanned the menus, picking and choosing what seemed most familiar to us. As we began enjoying our long-overdue dinner, more and more people started arriving and filling up the tables around us. As time moved on, a band took it’s place at the stage, directly next to our table. The Irish folks around us were drinking and being merry, giving no mind to the small children who were oddly out of place in the middle of a bar so late at night. We laughed and danced and forgot all about our awful ferry ride and the entire miserable day until finally, our parents dragged us off to our hotel. And that’s how my sisters and me, who were all seven years old and younger, ended up being front row to an Irish Rock band in a pub at midnight.
Unfortunately, this is one of the only memories I have of my time in Ireland. We were only able to spend three days exploring the country, which anyone who has ever been to Ireland knows isn’t nearly enough time to enjoy the incredible culture and landscape of Ireland. I could go on and on about how Irish I am, about how my great-great grandmother came over from Ireland when she was just thirteen years old, or about how I want to go back and visit the green, rolling hills of the country side, or the rocky cliffs by the sea, but these things aren’t the main reasons why I want to go back. The most important reason I have to visit Ireland again is to make new memories with my sisters. I want to explore the castles, drink Guinness, and be merry in one of the most beautiful countries in the entire world with some of my most favorite people in the entire world. I want to visit that same pub again, and maybe catch another rock concert.
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