An Irish Adventure: Pubs, Castles, and Rugby Cheers.
If you’re going to plan a wedding, why not turn it into an adventure? That’s exactly what Molly and I did in Ireland, a country where pints are poured with care, castles dot the landscape, and locals like Allen and Tom make every conversation unforgettable. This was no ordinary trip—it was a whirlwind of wedding recon, secret bars, and rugby revelry, with plenty of surprises along the way.
Lahinch Ireland
Killfenora: A Pub, a Pint, and a Promise
We kicked off our journey in Killfenora, a village so small that calling it “tiny” feels like an understatement. And yet, we fell in love with its charm. This is where Vaughan’s Pub—our wedding venue—awaited. It’s a cozy little spot, mostly frequented by locals, which made us love it even more.
Kilty, our wedding coordinator, must be one of the hardest-working men in Ireland. Tall and thin as a rail, he’s a whirlwind of energy, never stopping to rest. With him at the helm, we know our wedding day will run as smoothly as a perfectly poured Guinness.
Killfenora feels like the middle of nowhere, yet it’s just 15 minutes from Doolin, another gem of a town. On the way, we stumbled upon Doonagore Castle, a tall, round tower house perched dramatically above the surf. It’s the kind of spot that makes you stop the car, pull out your camera, and let the Irish winds whip through your hair as you take in the sheer beauty of the coastline. You half expect to see knights galloping by or, at the very least, a sheep looking judgmental as you snap yet another photo.
Lahinch: Quiet, But Never Dull
Our next stop, Lahinch, was deep in its off-season slumber. The streets were quiet, the shops mostly closed, but the pubs? Oh, the pubs were alive with laughter and stories. Locals and bartenders had all the time in the world to chat, spinning tales of wild surfing adventures that didn’t quite match the sleepy vibe of the town. By the time we left, we felt like honorary regulars.
Doonagore Castle
Galway: Secret Bars and Life Lessons
Galway stole our hearts, thanks in no small part to Allen, a local who could charm the socks off anyone. Allen’s a storyteller, the kind of man who draws you in with his wit and wisdom. He let slip that he has cancer, which perhaps explains his eagerness to connect with younger folks willing to listen. He’s a firm believer in bars with no TVs or speakers—only live music or conversation, as he puts it.
And then there was the secret bar. “Go to the back door at 9 am,” Allen instructed, “It’ll look locked, but it’s not. Just push.” As luck would have it, I caught him outside smoking, and he showed me the way in. Inside, the place was packed—a secret club where the awkward moment of being an outsider was quickly swept away by the energy of the room.
Beyond the pubs, Galway Cathedral left us in awe with its grandeur and stunning stained glass. But it’s the people—like Allen—that made Galway unforgettable.
Galway Cathedral
Tullamore: Whiskey and the Open Road
On the road back to Dublin, Molly took her turn driving on the left, mastering it with just a few panicked instructions from me. (Left means left, right?) A pit stop at the Tullamore Dew distillery was the perfect way to break up the journey. We learned about whiskey, sampled a bit too much, and left with bottles we’re calling “wedding research.”
Dublin: Festive Lights and Rugby Fever
Fleet Street in Dublin was alive with nighttime punters, and Temple Bar, with its iconic red doors, looked like a Christmas postcard. But it was The Palace Bar that truly captured the festive spirit for me. Inside, we met Tom—a man with a voice so rich and booming, I could practically hear him narrating the evening.
Temple Bar
Tom lived in New York for a time and is an avid sports fan. He had strong opinions about the Irish rugby team, bluntly stating, “They’re fucked,” due to their struggles at the World Cup. Yet, when he said it, I could easily imagine him delivering the same line on national television, his voice as commanding as ever.
Our trip culminated at the Aviva Stadium, where we watched the All Blacks edge out Ireland in an electric match. Cheering for the visiting team felt odd, but the Irish fans were stoic in defeat, even congratulating us as we left. It was a night we won’t soon forget.
Miss molly and the Traveling Mustache
Until Next Time…
As this chapter of Traveling Mustache comes to a close, I want to thank everyone who’s followed along, shared their stories, and laughed with us. Writing these posts has been like reliving the best parts of our adventures—complete with all the mishaps, pints, and unforgettable characters.
For now, the mustache is hanging up its passport (and maybe its pint glass) as Molly and I dive headfirst into our next big adventure: marriage. Don’t worry—we’ll still have plenty of stories to tell, just maybe with fewer secret bars and more wedding spreadsheets (pray for me).
Sláinte to all of you who’ve stuck with me. I’ll be back eventually, probably with a terrible farmer’s tan and an even worse sense of humor. Until then, keep exploring, keep laughing, and remember: the best bars always have no TVs, no speakers, and just the right amount of magic.
