For the second straight year, I spent my spring break in Ireland. Our host was the town of Bundoran, the surf capital of Ireland, located in County Donegal. The inside joke shared by all who inhabit this isolated territory in northwestern Ireland is that no one really knows they exist. When the long, bloody conflict between Ireland and England was “settled” (for the time being), Northern Ireland was sectioned off and was loyal to the crown. The rest of Ireland is known as the Republic of Ireland. Donegal is still a part of the Irish Republic, but the line drawn for Northern Ireland almost completely cut off Donegal from the rest of the republic. There is but one road in and one road out.

I can’t lie to you; there are pubs everywhere. Imagine how many pubs you think is possible to squeeze into a city block, then multiply that number by two. A real Irish pub is a place where anyone is welcome as long as you have money for a pint and a song or two memorized (your party song!) just in case. The music is loud, the people are proud, and there is no friendlier place to be.

Speaking of music, I’m willing to bet that you didn’t know what the favorite American genre is in Ireland: bluegrass country. Believe it or not, half the set of whoever is sitting in that night will feature some bluegrass. It wasn’t until I returned home after my first trip that I realized just how similar Celtic and bluegrass music are. I was shocked to hear “Take Me Home, Country Roads” (my number-one party song) several times and then to see just how much that song and those like it are enjoyed. American country songs of missing home or missing a friend are perhaps the most relatable songs to the Irish.

Now, let’s talk about something else you probably already knew. Ireland is green. Really green. I’ve never seen a more beautiful landscape in my life. The pastures are as green as you could possibly imagine, and the rolling hills — stockpiled with sheep — carry the whispers of contentment and simple existence. Nowhere is there a more peaceful and relaxing vacation destination; it's better than any beach resort, I can guarantee. Never in America have I been able to look to my right and see a beach with prime surfing waves, then look to my left and see extensive mountain ranges. You can go for a hike in the morning and hit the waves in the evening. I did.

If you’re reading this article, I’ll raise my Guinness and say cheers to the last year that you will celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day with a leprechaun. The Irish people do not appreciate the leprechaun. It is true that the leprechaun was originally celebrated as one of many Irish fairy tales, but the drunk, tiny, greedy, mischievous fellow that we all know and love was created through yellow journalism. I hate to ruin him for you, but it’s very offensive and shouldn’t be celebrated at all. Thankfully, there have been protests to remove the most offensive and egregious examples, but the celebration of the symbol probably won’t be easily removed. However, the Irish love the clover! It’s a sign of friendship and goodwill to present a friend with a real Irish clover. Throughout the massive history of Irish immigration to America, it’s always been a tradition for the family still in Ireland to send over a fresh clover to those trying to earn a living in America. In review: Clovers are good! Leprechauns are bad.

The country is beautiful and the people are friendly. A trip to Ireland may start out as a relaxing holiday, but it’ll quickly turn into an inspirational history lesson. It's one of the foremost oppressed countries in world history, yet easily the most proud. It seems as though almost everyone in America is proud to be “part Irish.” After seeing the land for myself, I can see why.