Watch, now the next time I go back someone will drop a brick on me or something (grin). I imagine Dublin’s no more perfect than Seattle, but it means a lot to go far from home and find that people can be kind.

When I flew there in 2005, I ended up being 18 hours late arriving. On the last leg of my VERY long journey, toward the end of my eight- or nine-hour wait at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris, I met a lovely couple who were also trying to get to Dublin. We shared stories about our delays, and they asked me about my trip. At some point it occurred to us that I probably wouldn’t be arriving in time to check into my guesthouse (which, unlike hotels, aren’t staffed 24 hours a day). I also didn’t have my cell phone with me to call and make arrangements. But my airport companions did, and they called the guesthouse and arranged for someone to meet me there.

And if that wasn’t nice enough, they also offered to drive me to the guesthouse because they didn’t want me, a single woman, to have to mess with a cab at that late hour. Of course that offer was made when we were expecting to land around 11 p.m. Dublin time. But we landed about midnight, and THEN … my bags were missing. As I waited in line to find out what happened to my luggage, I told them to please go on and I would get a cab. But the husband, standing there with his 5-year-old daughter zonked out on his shoulder, insisted. So these perfect strangers, with exhausted daughter in tow, waited for me to get my luggage situation straightened out and then drove me to an unfamiliar neighborhood in their city.

I finally got in my room about 2 a.m.; I have no idea what time they finally made it home. But I’ve never forgotten how kind and generous they were; I don’t even think they accepted my offer of gas money.

I love that place; can’t wait to go back!

Another reason Dublin is special — Butler’s Irish Chocolates. Super yum.

And the Clarence rocked as a hotel (sorry about the bad pun, just can’t resist!)