I Don't Know About Thee

If you've known me for more than a few minutes, you probably know that my favorite person in the world (possibly excepting Stanley Tucci) is me. I rarely experience this "FOMO" that I've heard tell of, because I feel that few people are better company than myself, and because I hate having to wash my hair and leave my house.

But even for me, the prospect of celebrating my birthday in a country thousands of miles from my friends and family with no one to celebrate with but my two-count-'em-two local friends was a bit of a bummer.

The three days leading up to my birthday were my spring break days, so I took plenty of steps to ensure I'd be having fun. I booked a solo trip to Madrid for my birthday eve and eve-eve, and I declared to my tiny circle of Dublin friends that we'd be going to the new restaurant on our street for my birthday dinner. I bought myself some ridiculous shoes. I was prepared. I knew the things that I could control would, hopefully, produce some birthday fun - but how would the experience actually go?

Readers, it was awesome.

First, there was my trip to Spain. Though it was an awfully quick visit (6 AM and 9 PM Ryanair flights are my new best friend), it was one of the best trips I've had in all my time abroad. After months of Dublin winter and rain, Madrid was 70 degrees and sunny, and I discovered that apparently, I don't hate the sun after all.

I made this trip alone, but I'd chosen Madrid because I have an old friend living there for the semester. She was the first of the many people who unknowingly conspired to give me the abroad birthday of my dreams. Though I love traveling alone, visiting museums and setting a pace with no one to worry about but me, it's great to have someone to meet up with now and again - and I had a great someone in Madrid. We took a rented rowboat for a spin on a local pond, we ate tapas and churros - we had a grand old time! 

Once a Berry, always a Berry.

On my one evening in the city, I stopped by the Mercado de San Miguel to sample various Spanish dishes (and sangrias) for dinner. I picked the market because it'd be easy and not awkward to eat there alone, but the birthday travel gods had other plans. While standing at a counter eating paella, a pair of Spanish girls accidentally bumped into me. They turned to apologize and struck up a conversation with me, asking where I was from and shocked that I'd come to Madrid all by myself. Within twenty minutes, they had decided I was their new best friend. They were from Tenerife. They were a little drunk. They gave me potato chips and bought me two rounds of "vermut!!!!". They made for an improbable and very strange evening, but they were awesome.

Here they are flirting with the bartender, Ruben.

Late Wednesday night, I returned to Dublin, happy and even a little tan, and collected the mail that had come for me while I was gone. Despite the fact that they'll be here to visit in under a week (!), my parents had sent me a package full of trendily-wrapped presents, so I would have something to open on the actual day of my birthday. And in case that weren't great enough on its own, I'd also received a postcard while I was gone that my friends had sent me from their recent trip to San Diego. I would probably have cried at this mail delivery, if I had feelings. A tip for you all? SEND ME MAIL. 

My mother made me an artsy birthday banner. I taught her everything she knows.

Then came my birthday itself. I returned from the shower that morning to find that my roommate had gotten me a lovely - and, more importantly, immaculately wrapped - gift, and I even got a cupcake at work, by which means I managed to get raspberry stains all over my shirt, to the surprise of no one. My birthday dinner, too, was a smashing success. I traipsed down the street in my five-inch crazy platforms to Trendy New Restaurant Xico with my roommate, our neighbor and only friend, and my roommate's sister, who was in for the week visiting. 

Trendy New Restaurants are THE place to celebrate a birthday, my friends. I had pulled pork tostadas with apples and peanuts on them. "My Humps" inexplicably played at one point. I bought myself a bright blue cocktail called a "Los Muertos" that, unbeknownst to me at the time, is served on fire. It was awesome. Also, I looked good. 

Ignore our dryer and focus instead on my shoes.

After dinner, we lounged around the apartment for a while before heading out to one of our favorite bars. I kept wearing those shoes and didn't even break my ankle or give up and walk around barefoot. I ponied in platforms. I had a darn good time. And then I bought myself some garlic cheese fries from a truck on the street and went home in a cab, because I am a twenty-three-year-old woman and I will avoid walking if I want to. I don't know if it was the best birthday anyone's ever had, but it's definitely up there. 

And then I got home and caught up to the birthday messages I'd been getting throughout the day. I still didn't cry - I'm me, after all - but it was really special to have so many of my friends and family wish me a happy birthday from so many miles away. I like being alone, and I'd had a great time with the small but fun inner social circle I have here in Dublin. But I miss all my friends back in the States - and even though a text or a Facebook wall post may not seem like much, it really meant a lot to hear from each and every person who wished me a happy birthday yesterday. I'm not one to be nice because I feel like I have to, so I assure you: if I replied to your message with some iteration of "I MISS YOU, TELL ME ABOUT YOUR LIFE," it's because I really do want to hear it. Even if I didn't tell you that, it's probably true. I want to hear about you all. You all rock. 

I've been waiting for quite some time to make this joke, and the end of this post (since you've read this far and won't bail now) is the perfect chance. I don't know about thee, but I'm feelin' 23. And it's pretty cool.