Dublin

I left my wonderful friends in Metz before dawn on Saturday May 2nd. My tears must have made the driver uncomfortable because he turned up the music too loud. Fortunately things went smoothly at the airport, and I was reminded yet again that worry is useless. I was greeted by sunshine in downtown Dublin at 12pm and I checked into a random hostel that the shuttle driver pointed me to. It was the dirtiest hostel I’ve ever stayed in, but I think I’m better off for the experience.

After I check-in, I wandered around the city. I visited the Museum of Decorative Arts, where I learned that clovers are a very genuine part of Irish culture. I’m always skeptical when a symbol is so pervasive that it is cliché. When I arrived in Dublin, I thought the clover was hyped up for tourists, at the Museum of Decorative Arts, I realized that it has been used on clothing, jewelry, house wares, etc long before mass tourism.

I stopped at the Guinness Storehouse after the museum. I was impressed by the giant waterfall on the tour and all the turquoise beams. I learned how to properly pour a Guinness, and I enjoyed the Red while looking out on the small town of Dublin.

There is a reason that the doors in Dublin are renown. The architecture in Dublin just isn’t interesting. It is charming, but it doesn’t inspire pictures. Most of the city is made of small red brick buildings. It screams working class. I saw statues that glorified labor, and wondered if work was the only thing that united the Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants during the most violent bits of Irish history.

Sunday I took a hop-on hop-off bus tour and I saw the National Gallery as well as the Museum of Modern Art. I was lucky enough to have another day of sun. Monday I spent all day gift shopping for mom and Marla, but to no avail. It was a rainy bank holiday, so options were limited.
I met some interesting people in the hostel, but nobody who was up for hanging out. There was a group of girls from Uganda who were living in the hostel while pursuing a masters degree. I thought they were really strong. Another woman was living in the hostel who had been traveling for the last 25 years. She was 48 and super jaded.

I was ecstatic about the whole driving on the right side bit. I had an overwhelming desire to be a passenger, but I knew if this dream was realized, it would only lead to the urge to drive. Driving would be a danger to myself and others, so I did the responsible thing and didn’t go out of my way to pursue a drive. After all I nearly died at twice because I looked the wrong way while crossing the street

Mostly I was sad and lonely in Dublin. I know that influences the way I view the city, but I’m convinced that Dublin isn’t the most interesting thing about Ireland. I would love to go back and tour the island. When I checked into my flight to NYC and exchanged money I was so overwhelmed to be heading toward home after such an incredible 7 months that I cried.