"The only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man...!"

Today's most notable event was my visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral, the largest and most magnificent church in Ireland. Located in the southern portion of the Viking/Medieval District, St. Patrick's is known for its impressive facade and decadent interior. What was intended to be another jaunt in the name of enthusiastic tourism quickly became an adventure all its own.


When we arrived at St. Patrick's, I immediately found myself impressed by its appearance. I had to stand pretty far away to get the entire structure in one camera shot. It's surrounded by a small park and a beautiful graveyard, not to mention a number of people, tourists and Dublin natives alike. The outside of the church demanded respect and awe, as the details within the architecture completely encompassed the entire building. (Side note: I've been on a mad hunt for flying buttresses. If you don't know what they are, look them up. They're my favorite, and St. Patrick's satisfied my bizarre craving for that particular aspect of architecture.) When we finally found the entrance, I couldn't help but be slightly put off by the 5 euro entrance fee. After all, I just wanted to snap a zillion photos. So instead of digging into my purse for that amount, I succumbed to my cheap demeanor and elected to be a little... sly. I waited around for about 20 minutes on the sidewalk outside the entrance, and when the (free) church service started, I made my move.


Make no mistake, I did not decide to stay for the service just to get my pictures, though it was undoubtedly the best perk. The music coming from the organ and the choir were phenomenal, and the sermon was my favorite kind: relatable and brief. Feeling slightly guilty for my itch to photograph anything and everything, I donated 50 cents during the collection. As soon as the service concluded, I started snapping like a madwoman, but it seemed as though no number of pictures could account for the incredible beauty of the cathedral. Surrounded by stained glass windows composed of pieces the size of my fingernails and a sense of antiquity profound enough to rival any history textbook, I decided the 50 cents and 90 minutes of my time were well worth it. I left St. Patrick's Cathedral with a full memory card and a contented heart. Not to mention, I've been humming "Son of a Preacher Man" to myself all day, much to the chagrin of my comrades.