So, I'm sitting here in this dingy Internet place in Dublin with a train rumbling overhead every second or so and I thought I'd take advantage of the 50 cents I paid for an hour usage and jot a little in my ill-used blog.
There's actually quite a bit I could say, but I'm reserving that entry for when I have my laptop back and I can use a normal keyboard and find time to pretend to be prosaic.
Most of this trip has been spent at the hostel. This may seem more pathetic in hindsight, and I'm sure it sounds so to those who are not in my position. But to be honest, Dublin isn't much of anything. I'm preparing myself for an onslaught of jeers from you Irish wannabes out there. . .
Yesterday Robin and I arrived and managed to find our hostel without any problem, and were pleasantly surprised at how tidy it was - especially after our last experience in Bath. We went out for a little lunch and tried to muster up some enthusiasm but after a week of sleep-deprived studying we didn't have much to go on. So, we returned for a short nap. Or a long one, whatever. We ventured out on the town a little later in the evening and found some snacks and one of many Carrolls. These are like the ABC shops of Dublin. You'll probably only understand that reference if you've been to Hawaii, so allow me to elaborate -- tourist shops. Tourists shops with the exact same merchandise as the last Carrolls you walked into, each about one block apart.
And then we went home. Watched the evening movie - What Happens in Wegas, as the foreign boys with the pungent BO pronounced it, and that was the highlight of the evening. Then, we slept for another blissful 8 hours, got up for an early breakfast of toast and OJ, returned to bed, and then got up again 2 hours later to set out for a walking tour of the city. Came home with numb fingers, new books, and some oh-so-lovely Toffee Crisps and settled down for some hours of reading and napping. Really, quite a perfect afternoon.
And now I'm here, around the corner from my hostel, giving Dublin another go. This time I think we'll head off for Temple Bar to enjoy a pint in a real Irish pub. And maybe, encounter a real Irish man with a lovely rolling accent and not, yet another, group of Americans. But that's just wishful thinking.