Longish post on Dublin

So, Dublin. When I think of Dublin I think of really happy, funny, smart, friendly, drunk people. Did I mention drunk? Kind of like leprauchans, but drunk. Oh, they're really handsome too. I'm serious about that.

I arrived on Saturday afternoon, breezed through immigration (not like the Asian woman who was being totally interrogated in the other queue) and headed for my hostel in the Temple Bar district. Yes, Temple Bar -- this is, I believe, the most touristy part of Dublin. But it was the only place with beds to sleep. It also happens to be just down the street from Trinity College and Stephen's Green, so it wasn't too bad.


First we walked around Grafton St., which has a lot of shops and bars. Then we went to Temple Bar (the actual bar) and had some Guinness. This was my first of about 10 Guinnesses over the course of the weekend. I've got to say, there's something to be said for limited supply. When five out of ten taps at the bar are for Guinness, it's not quite as exciting as when you order one at say, Brocach bar in Madison. But it was good. But awfully filling! And the lukewarm thing -- not my favorite. Although I guess you work past all that after a certain point, based on the quantity of Guinness pints I saw being consumed at the Temple Bar. And every other bar/restaurant I visited that weekend. Know when to say one (see photo).

(FYI, as I've been composing this blog post I've seen both Brad Pitt and George Clooney in separate Dutch commercials. I think Brad's was for a cell phone; Clooney was hocking espresso. Neither of them spoke Dutch, thank God; Brad just smiled and nodded, and Clooney went English.)

So, then we met up with my friend Greg and his authentic Irish friend, went to dinner, went to a bar where there were really old people drinking pints at like midnight. Not whooping it up, just sitting placidly, methodically consuming their Guinness. I like how there's not so much ageism in Europe -- in Holland old people bike all over the place. In Ireland they frequent the pubs, late night. You go, old people.

Greg's Irish friend's friends were fun. Just like this Irish guy I know Paddy is. He's hilarious. I have a theory -- other than genetics being the factor, I think the Irish are psyched because they extricated themselves out from under the thumb of the English. They're just in a really good mood! And then they're lurching towards you and peeing all over the streets.

The next day we walked around Trinity College, Stephen's Green, ate some fish and chips (just chips for me), ate at a really good vegan place (they're everywhere, I'm telling you), Justin bought me a copy of Ulysses, and then we watched a little Top Model before bed. All in all, a very enjoyable international/cultural experience.

Oh, one last thing -- in one of the bars, in the women's bathroom, there was a straightening iron on the wall. Just in case you need to flatiron a little before heading back to your Guinness.