Dublin: A little dirty, not all too visually splendorous, and cold in early June. I saw three people in Winter jackets today, and I officially clock in at one sweater for the next two months of travel.
However, the charm of Dublin does not lie in its sights or unique beauty. Everyone always tells you it's the people of Ireland--their gift of gab, congenial nature, and welcoming spirit. But after awaiting this trip so long, I found immediately what I was looking for on this continent--and it didn't have anything to do with the people.
St. Patrick's Cathedral is not great by cathedral standards, and there's probably 25 alone in France or Germany that are superior. Though, the minute I walked in, I thought this was what I came to Europe for. Jonathan Swift's grave was here, 300 year old flags, and stained glass depicting glorious moments from the cathedral's past all aligned the inside.
I loved it. Especially, after I screwed up the address of the hostel, wandered aimlessly, and generally felt like a half-wit tourist.
Upon leaving St. Patrick's and viewing a few other sites, I made my way to the hostel. I settled in, found some dinner, and made my way to Temple Bar for 19 Guinness. Reluctantly, after knowing one particular Irish themed bar in the U.S., the ones I visited here were quite similar.
Tomorrow, the Dublin Castle, the Kilmainham Prison, and more Guinness is on the docket.
LISTENING:
READING: Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
I loved it. Especially, after I screwed up the address of the hostel, wandered aimlessly, and generally felt like a half-wit tourist.
Upon leaving St. Patrick's and viewing a few other sites, I made my way to the hostel. I settled in, found some dinner, and made my way to Temple Bar for 19 Guinness. Reluctantly, after knowing one particular Irish themed bar in the U.S., the ones I visited here were quite similar.
Tomorrow, the Dublin Castle, the Kilmainham Prison, and more Guinness is on the docket.
LISTENING:
READING: Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
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