Blogs by Ella Fisher

There are moments when I catch myself reminiscing about my once crippling fear of flying. While I can’t say it’s totally gone, I have come a long way compared to eight years ago. Most of you who've been around my blog for a while know that eight years ago, I started working for a cybersecurity company. And guess what? Turns out I struck career gold—my dream job, complete with endless opportunities to learn and grow. I sincerely hope I get to keep this ride going for many more years.

Fast forward to November 2024: the month I had been working towards tirelessly. The team event I’d planned was finally happening. Destination? The romantic and legendary city of Dublin! Or at least, that’s how I pictured it in my head: misty streets, poetic charm, and maybe a fiddle-playing leprechaun or two.

Now, here’s a fun fact: I always book a window seat on flights these days. Why? Because taking pictures of the clouds and pretending I'm in a whimsical travel documentary helps keep me calm. Yep, quite a twist for someone who used to breathe into a paper bag at the mere thought of a plane. So, with my camera ready, I touched down in Dublin, excited and full of expectations.

Spoiler alert: reality had some plot twists waiting for me. “Romantic” Dublin was more of a “ruggedly authentic” Dublin. Instead of quaint, cobblestone fairytale streets, I was greeted by a city with a grittier vibe. The gray, weathered buildings had stories to tell.

The hotel was decent enough, nothing to write a song about, but it did the job. Dublin’s streets, however, told their stories in neon spray paint and the occasional shadow of a less fortunate soul napping in a doorway. I could almost hear the city muttering, "Take me as I am or not at all." And I did. Because amidst all this raw, unscripted life, there was a strange, unpolished beauty.

On the first day, I kicked things off with a chicken sandwich. It did the job and was pretty healthy, considering the river of beer I managed to knock back. Now, normally I’m more of a wine enthusiast, but when I’m out with the distinguished gentlemen of the office (read: my coworkers), trying to keep up with wine would be a one-way ticket to an early night. Beer, on the other hand, is kinder on the stamina.

For dinner, I thought I was being clever by booking what I assumed was a charming, quintessential Irish restaurant. Turns out, the joke was on me. We had to wait a solid half-hour before they could squeeze our merry band of mischief-makers inside. The service? Let’s just say if they were any slower, they'd be going backward. But the food? Absolutely spot on! So, no harm, no foul, I guess.

Breakfast in Dublin on day one? Kept it light, playing it safe for the day ahead. But by the last morning, I went all out with a full English breakfast – baked beans in tomato sauce, bacon, eggs, the whole nine yards. And these were the real deal, not those questionable powdered eggs some hotels sneak onto your plate. How do I know? Oh, just the charming surprise of an eggshell shard nestled in my scramble. Nothing says "authentic" like crunching your way to extra calcium. Ha!

On the second day, lunch was a chicken wrap with a kick – spicy and delicious enough to make me wonder if I was ready to ditch sandwiches forever. For dinner that night, we did the unexpected: we ate in a church. Yes, a real one! And let me tell you, it was heavenly. Great food, impeccable atmosphere, and service that restored my faith in humanity. Plus, the food arrived at lightning speed, which, after the previous night’s wait, felt like a miracle. All in all, it was an experience worth singing hymns about!

One of our first outings was to a military and art museum. The military section had me thinking of my dad, who served in the army. I could practically hear his voice saying, “You’d better be paying attention!” He would’ve loved it,

Food, glorious food. If you’re planning on maintaining any sort of healthy eating habits in Dublin, let me burst that bubble now: Ha! Dublin’s menus are full of hearty, calorie-rich meals that would make any dietitian weep. And I loved every greasy second of it. We explored a handful of restaurants, each with its own character, but there was one standout: Hidden By One Society. The owner was not only welcoming and full of Irish wit, but he had an unmatched passion for his work. Handling a group of 19 hungry (and probably somewhat cranky) professionals would send most people running for the hills, but he made it look effortless. That level of charm and genuine hospitality? It deserves a standing ovation—and a full 10/10 from me. Oh, and bonus points for being one of the few locals whose accent I could actually understand without looking like a confused puppy. The Irish lilt is a thing of beauty, but man, it’s a puzzle for the ears!

No visit to Dublin would be complete without a tour, and ours was led by James, a guide who could have moonlighted as a stand-up comedian. His humor was sharp, nearly Dutch in its delivery, and he somehow managed to make historical facts sound like juicy bits of gossip. For the first time, I found myself genuinely interested in every word. Usually, on tours, I’m more of a “Is there Wi-Fi here?” kind of tourist.

Three days. It wasn’t enough. Between the city’s moody streets, the locals with stories in their eyes, and experiences that made me laugh, ponder, and fill up on heart-stopping calories, Dublin managed to surprise me in the best ways. Sure, it has its rough edges—junkies and all—but it’s also packed with character, charm, and warmth. I left with a full heart, a few extra pounds, and a head buzzing with new stories to write.

So, thank you, Ireland. You’ve captured me, turbulence and all, and I can’t wait for round two. Sláinte!