I decided to book the last leg of our European trip in Dublin, as flights were cheaper back to the States than from London. I was concerned that the city itself, with a bit of a drinking problem and party reputation, wouldn't have much for these two sober weary travelers, so I booked us a quiet airbnb in Killester. And boy, let me tell you, I severely underestimated the allure of the Irish coast. From our sleepy suburb, we were able to venture out to the seaside and head back into Dublin as the mood struck us. It was the perfect place to catch our breath.

The first night, we walked ourselves to the neighborhood pub. In honor of my father, I ordered a Guinness; for my mother, I had Evan watch horse races with me on the TV. Evan celebrated with fish and chips. On the way out, he bummed a cig from a group of rowdy twenty-somethings loitering by the door. They dissolved into giggles and passed one over after calling at us: "Oh, that's your girl? Give us a kiss!"

We each agreed to plan a secret adventure on our two available days. I took Evan by bus out to the seaside town of Howth, a peninsula east of Dublin, to hike the Bog of Frogs Loop. Spanish teenagers on holiday had plagued us throughout our entire trip, most notably in Amsterdam, and they managed to find us even out here. We hiked really fast or really slow to avoid listening to the music blasting from their speakers and grumbled about their gossiping voices, but these all made for great distractions from the steep trail.

We were all swept quickly up to rocky cliffs above the sea by the winding cobblestone road. From overlooks, we were delighted to catch glimpses of seabirds, portly sea lions, and even a pod of dolphins. The hills themselves were also beautiful, adorned in purple heather and yellow flowers. We curved around the peninsula and then were suddenly deposited onto a golf course, where we hiked amongst the holes wondering where we were. After hiding from a burst of rain under a dense thicket, we made it back into Howth. We walked up and down the wharf, holding the various restaurants up against our high standards, before settling on Octopussy's. Stifle your laughter! Sherry monkfish, fried prawns, and seafood chowder warmed us while we watched fellow tourists toss chips to the sea lions begging alongside the moored boats.

Evan brought me on an adventure to the tune of 40 miles on rented bikes around Dublin. One of my favorite sights was Phoenix Park, which boasts 1,750 acres of grassy expanses. Afterward, we stopped briefly at a bike shop for a quick patch of Evan's flat tire. Then we set off for the quaint town of Malahide. Biking along the highway with aggressive drivers made us both miss protected bike lanes. We stopped for the biggest piece of fried fish that I've ever been served before booking it back to the rental shop before they closed (we had learned our lesson in the UK).

On this trip, I think we both found that renting bikes allowed us to connect with all of the new cities we were visiting and gave us a way to fill the unexpectedly abundant free time you have when traveling without family. We kept joking about our shenanigans-- biking to the beach on the shitty tandem in Amsterdam, riding double on city bikes, dragging mountain bikes all the way out to Cambridge, and then spending a whole day pedaling all over the Irish coast. It was silly and pretty awesome. As much as trekking inspired us to start planning some longer hut-to-hut trips, I'd like to think we have some bikepacking in our future as well.