m.h.h

Just what Castlebar needed - another pub with a campground attachment. When I first heard about m.h.h, I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained an ocular muscle. The pink exterior (yes, really) stands out like a sore thumb in this otherwise traditional Irish town. But here's the thing - and I can't believe I'm about to write this - there's something oddly charming about this peculiar establishment.

Let's address the elephant in the room: m.h.h in Castlebar is essentially a pub-slash-lodging hybrid that sounds like someone had a stroke while naming it. The concept shouldn't work. The execution shouldn't work. And yet...

The Guinness. Oh, the Guinness. I'd traveled to enough Irish pubs to become properly jaded about the "perfect pour" spiel, but the pints here are consistently excellent. The owner, who I suspect made a deal with some porter-loving deity, keeps his lines immaculate. I've had worse pints in Dublin, and that's not something I admit lightly.

The space itself is an exercise in cognitive dissonance. That pink exterior gives way to an interior that manages to be both cozy and slightly surreal. It's like your eccentric aunt's living room got into a bar fight with a traditional Irish pub, and somehow they both won. The live music nights - which I fully expected to hate - actually showcase some decent local talent. Though I'll deny saying this if quoted directly.

What truly caught me off guard was the camping setup. As someone who generally believes camping is what happens when hotel bookings go wrong, I was surprised to find the facilities clean and well-maintained. The self-service check-in system is either brilliantly efficient or completely impersonal, depending on your perspective (and how much human interaction you can tolerate while traveling).

The rooms above the pub (for those too posh or sensible to camp) are basic but clean. Don't expect five-star amenities - you won't find artisanal soaps or Egyptian cotton sheets. But then again, if you're looking for the Ritz, you've made a serious navigational error ending up in this part of Castlebar.

Here's where m.h.h really shines: it's got character. Not the manufactured, Instagram-friendly kind that makes me want to commit arson, but genuine, slightly weird, unmistakably Irish character. The regulars are a mix of locals and bewildered tourists, creating an atmosphere that's both authentic and entertaining. It's like a social experiment you can drink through.

They're dog-friendly, which means you might share your space with everything from dignified wolfhounds to overexcited terriers. The outdoor space, while not exactly the Gardens of Versailles, provides enough room for both human and canine guests to roam without causing an international incident.

The payment system has dragged itself into the 21st century - they accept cards, NFC payments, and yes, actual money. The free street parking is a bonus, though navigating Castlebar's streets after a few pints is not recommended (take a taxi, you hero).

For groups, m.h.h works surprisingly well. The space can accommodate your entire extended family without feeling like you're sardined into a tin can. Just don't all try to check in at once - remember that whole self-service system I mentioned?

Look, I came to m.h.h in Castlebar prepared to write a scathing review about another mediocre Irish pub trying too hard to be different. Instead, I'm sitting here, slightly annoyed at having to admit that this pink-painted, oddly-named establishment has actually got something going for it. Whether you're a local looking for a reliable pint, a tourist seeking authentic Irish pub culture with a twist, or a camper who likes their outdoor experience with indoor plumbing nearby, m.h.h somehow manages to tick all these contradictory boxes.

Make a booking, pack your camping gear (or don't), and prepare yourself for something uniquely Castlebar. Just don't blame me if you end up becoming one of the regulars. I take no responsibility for the magnetic pull of this inexplicably charming establishment.