In Dublin fair city

Last weekend I had my first experience of travelling overseas all by myself. True, it was only an hour's flight and when I got there they still spoke the same language (almost) and ate the same food and watched the same TV, but the currency changed and I would have been pulled up quick smart if I'd dared mention it was the same country, so it still counts. I went to visit my lovely littlest sister Ali, who arrived there a few weeks ago following months of adventures in Peru and Ecuador. It started on Friday night, with Ali meeting me at the airport to make sure I got the 1.90 euro local bus into town rather than the 8 euro rip off tourist bus. She took me to her hostel which had a great location right on the river near Temple Bar, and then we went in search of food. We ate burgers and chips and fizzy drink in some place called Eddie Rocket's which is trying to be like an American diner from the 1950s. The weirdest thing about it was the toilets which were so far above the floor that my feet didn't reach the tiles. I know what you're thinking, but Ali's much taller than me and even she found them high.

Ali admitted that she always feels lame for ordering Fanta, but I admire her for being herself in the face of public ridicule.

After that we went to a pub in Temple Bar and had a Bailey's each and listened to some guy playing U2 and other songs, and because I'm a nana, we then headed back to the hostel. Ali's dorm mates were all dressed up and ready to go out but we'd decided to save our energy for Saturday night, so we put our PJs on and went to bed. It was my first experience sleeping in a dorm as well, and although I handled it fine for two nights in an all-girl space, I'm not sure how I'd go (a) for weeks or months at a time, or (b) sharing with rude smelly boys. I need a good nights' sleep to function properly. The first night we were woken up at some ungodly hour by one of our fellow (slightly drunk) girls ringing her mum back in Australia to tell her she'd lost her camera at the pub. The conversation did not go well. After she ended that call she went through her bag and realised her wallet was also missing, which warranted another tearful phone call home. I felt sorry for her; it's bad enough to lose those things but her mum obviously did not feel sorry for her at all, which made her more upset.

Ali doing her night time stretches on the dorm floor. Because I grew up with the same father, I do not find this strange at all.

The view from Ali's bed, across the Liffey to the Fourcourts area.

In the morning we joined the throngs of people taking advantage of the free breakfast; we both ate as much as dad does, in order to fill up for the day. It was really busy, being a weekend and late-ish in the morning; so busy in fact that when I came back to our seats after getting some toast, the French bloke at the same table had stolen my chair AND the map we'd had spread out. He apologised but it was still weird. Very French though. We decided on a vague walking plan, and headed off into the freezing cold, Ali without a jacket (but I didn't say anything, not wanting to be the bossy big sister).

Corpus Christie was first on the list...it cost 5 euro to go in, so we didn't, but we admired from the outside.

Then we found St Nicholas's, which was tucked away behind big brick walls in the middle of a very ordinary suburb. I loved it because it felt exactly how it must have 100 years ago.

After visiting multiple churches (in memory of our darling nana) we headed to St Stephen's Green, which is very pretty and relaxing even when it's freaking cold.

From St Stephen's Green we went to the National Museum of Archaelogy and looked at things like bowls, crosses, Viking jewellery and the most memorable, peat bog bodies. They really threw me, especially the one where the facial expression was still clearly visible. The man was very obviously thinking 'help, I'm in a peat bog.' Some of the bodies were headless or armless but it was quite amazing what they were able to figure out from what was left, like how old the person was, what they last ate and therefore what season it was, what they were wearing and therefore where they stood on the social hierarchy, and so on. Really it leaves CSI looking pretty ordinary.

After the Museum we went to Temple Bar to find the food market. Ali had mentioned it the night before as somewhere good to eat, and that morning one of the Aussie girls in the dorm had been saying it was one of the highlights of her week. So it seemed a must-do. Because there were 2 of us we decided we could buy lots of food and share it, so we had a very expensive and very delicious duck pie, some deep fried spring rolls and an Italian version, and then the very best brownie in the world. The brownie was a meal in itself...it was quite a challenge to finish it, even between 2 of us we had to give each other little pep talks to get through it. After that brownie we needed a rest so we headed back to the hostel for a cup of tea and relaxing game of Connect 4.

Ali trying to warm up with a cup of hot apple juice, served with a shot of apple brandy. Mmm.

We headed out again around 4pm, thinking we would go and see the Oscar Wilde and Molly Malone memorials and pick up some dinner to cook at the hostel. By this time it was dark (of course) and raining pretty heavily, so we only made it to Molly and then decided we would just go back to where it was warm and dry.

Ali and Molly Malone. Mum and Dad used to sing us the song when we were little so she has a special place in our hearts.

After dinner we got all dressed up in our finery and headed out to Temple Bar. We went to The Temple Bar (I know, how long did they take to come up with that) which was all decked out in Christmas decorations. It was really crowded but we found a corner, had some drinks and what-not, and then decided to find somewhere else. On the way it transpired that Ali's feet were killing her in her new Peruvian high heeled boots and my tummy was not agreeing with me, so back to the hostel it was for pyjamas and an episode of Charmed in the TV lounge.

All prettied up. Ali's head is not that big in reality.

I had an early flight so we got to eat breakfast without having our chairs stolen by any French people and then Ali walked me to the bus stop, where we realised the timetable in the hostel had been wrong and we had a good 20 minute wait ahead of us. It was freezing and dark (of course) but some nice taxi driver drove past and rescued me and another guy there who was going to the airport, so we got there a lot earlier than we would have otherwise. He was heading home to Minnesota, where it was going to be even colder. I was not jealous in the slightest.

Ali by the river, waiting to see me off. It's 8.30 in the morning here. I love this climate.

Other than that very brief trip across the water, things are fairly quiet on the Edinburgh front. I've lost my boring job at Scottish Widows so I'm now on the look out for something else; I don't hold much hope at this time of year but at least I have Christmas to look forward to, and I'm determined to be at least as good a housewife as Toby was when he was at home. I already have plans to wash the kitchen curtains. I think that's the kind of thing housewives do.