Ireland won’t kill you. It’s not that kind of place. You aren’t going to get kidnapped by a cartel or step on a landmine, but if you’re a moron, the country will absolutely rob you of your dignity and about 400 Euros before you even realize what’s happened. I’ve been over there five times now—once for a full month when I was trying to ‘find myself’ (spoiler: I didn’t)—and the safety stuff people worry about is usually the wrong stuff.
The Temple Bar tax and why I hate it
I refuse to recommend Temple Bar to anyone. I don’t care if it’s on every ‘must-see’ list in the world. I actively tell my friends to avoid it because it’s a dump. It’s a loud, overpriced, neon-soaked trap that exists solely to separate Americans from their money. I hate the way the pubs there smell like stale beer and desperation, and I especially hate the font they use on those ‘Traditional’ signs. It’s fake. It’s a Disney version of Ireland.
But more importantly for your safety: it’s where the pickpockets live. They don’t look like Dickensian orphans; they look like you. I spent three hours one Tuesday afternoon sitting at a window in a cafe on Fleet Street just watching. I counted exactly four instances of ‘bump and runs’ where tourists were so distracted by a guy playing a mediocre version of ‘Galway Girl’ on a fiddle that they didn’t feel their phones leave their pockets. If you must go, keep your hand on your wallet. Better yet, just go to a pub in Stoneybatter instead. It’s cheaper. It’s safer.
Total trap.
The thing about the roads (The 2019 mirror disaster)
This is the part where I tell you that the biggest threat to your life in Ireland is a rented Volkswagen Polo and a stone wall in County Kerry. I used to think I was a great driver. I was completely wrong. In 2019, I was driving the Slea Head Drive on the Dingle Peninsula. It was raining—obviously—and I was trying to be polite to a tour bus coming the other way. I moved over about two inches too far. CRUNCH.
I took the entire passenger-side mirror off against a wall that had probably been there since the 1840s. The sound was like a gunshot. I spent the next four hours in the rain trying to duct tape a piece of a broken compact mirror to the housing so I could at least see behind me. It cost me exactly €412.50 out of pocket because I was too cheap to buy the ‘Super CDW’ insurance.
Pro tip: Buy the extra insurance. Every cent of it. It’s a scam, but it’s a scam that lets you sleep at night when you’re driving on roads that are basically paved goat paths.
Driving in Kerry is like trying to thread a needle while someone throws buckets of freezing water at your windshield. The roads aren’t just narrow; they are sentient and they want to eat your tires. I’ve tracked my stress levels on these trips (I’m a nerd, I use a Garmin) and my heart rate is consistently 15-20 bpm higher driving in rural Ireland than it is during my actual job. Stay focused. Don’t look at the sheep.
Is the North actually “dangerous”?
I know people will disagree with me on this, and some might even find it offensive, but I actually felt safer in Belfast than I did in Dublin. There’s this lingering perception that Northern Ireland is still a war zone. It’s not. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. The ‘danger’ in the North is historical and political. If you aren’t an idiot who goes around shouting about things you don’t understand, nobody cares about you.
In Dublin, the danger is more… modern? It’s the same kind of petty urban grit you find in London or Paris. I stayed near the Talbot Street area once and I wouldn’t do it again. I’m not saying it’s the Bronx in the 80s, but there’s a vibe there that makes you want to walk a little faster. I might be wrong about this, and maybe I just had a bad experience with a guy trying to sell me a ‘stolen’ iPad that was actually just a piece of floor tile in a bubble wrap sleeve, but the South feels more ‘scammy’ lately. The North just feels like people trying to get on with their lives.
Anyway, I digress. The point is, don’t skip the North because you’re scared of a history book. Just don’t be a loudmouth.
My 14-day “sketchy encounter” log
Last year, I decided to actually track how many times I felt ‘unsafe’ versus how many times people were just being Irish. I spent 14 days traveling from Dublin to Galway to Cork. Here is the data from my notes:
- Aggressive begging: 6 times (All in Dublin, mostly near the Liffey).
- Drunk people shouting at nothing: 22 times (Standard for a Friday night).
- Actual threats to my person: 0.
- Times I thought I was going to die on a bus: 3 (Bus Eireann drivers are a different breed).
The ‘Liffey Boardwalk’ in Dublin is the only place I genuinely dislike. I don’t care how much money the city spends to ‘rejuvenate’ it. I refuse to walk it after dark. It’s narrow, there are too many places to get cornered, and it just feels… wrong. I’ve seen more drug deals go down there in broad daylight than I have in my entire life back home. Avoid the boardwalk. Walk the extra block up to Abbey Street.
The rain gear rant
Safety isn’t just about crime; it’s about not getting hypothermia because you thought a denim jacket was ‘fine for May.’ If you bring an umbrella to Ireland, you are basically announcing to the world that you have never looked at a weather map. The wind on the Cliffs of Moher feels like a physical hand trying to push you into the Atlantic. It will take your umbrella, turn it inside out, and mock you with it.
I hate Paddywagon Tours. I know everyone uses them because they’re cheap and easy, but their giant green buses are an eyesore and I hate the font they use for their logo. It’s tacky. But even they will tell you: bring a raincoat. I spent €180 on a proper Gore-Tex shell before my last trip and it was the best money I ever spent. Staying dry keeps you sane. Being wet and cold for three days straight makes you make stupid decisions, like taking a ‘shortcut’ through a bog. Don’t do it.
Buy a real coat.
At the end of the day, Ireland is a soft place. It’s a place where you can walk into a pub in Doolin, sit by yourself with a pint, and within twenty minutes, you’ll know the life story of the guy sitting next to you. That’s the real Ireland. The safety stuff is mostly just common sense and not being an arrogant tourist who thinks the rules of physics don’t apply to narrow roads. I still think about that broken mirror every time I see a Volkswagen Polo. I wonder if they ever fixed that stone wall? Probably not. It’s been there 200 years; what’s a little plastic scratch to a piece of history?