Last night in Dublin. I have to be up in four hours to catch my plane to Krakow. I wandered around the city a bit today. When I moved to the Kinlay House hostel, I met an english/history teacher from central Ireland. He took me on a walk of Dublin and I listened to a brief history of Ireland, it's independence, and the whatnot. It was actually pretty interesting walking through Dublin sights with a Irishman. We got a couple of our hostelmates, one from Israel and one from Italy together and met up at Brogan's Pub down the street. Thing was, I went to the Octagon Bar, owned by U2's Bono, for some food. But after 8pm, they only serve 'cured meats'. I did have a couple of pints, courtesy of my lovely friend, Yadira, back in the states. I did a lot of people watching and observed the bartenders racing around fixing mojitos and other Clarence hotel classic cocktails.
Ah, the point is, I was two pints to the wind when I met the other hostelers for a couple of pints. After Brogan's, we went to a place called Cafe Seine (as in Paris) off of Grafton Street. (Grafton is a very fancy shopping area with the likes of Louis Vuitton and so forth, it's beautifully lit at night, like a movie set). I went to the toilet at the crowded club and when I escaped, everyone was gone. As I made my way out, an Irish guy scolded me for 'pushing' too much. This only aggravated me further and I sure as heck pushed even harder until I was free on the streets of Dublin. Nothing but foreigners left in Temple Bar. I stopped at a burger/hot dog stand and refused to pay 4 Euros for a burger. Instead, I called Shilpa out of the blue and shouted at people on the street. No one paid attention. So here I am, back at the hostel, tappa tapping away at the keyboard at 2 am. Mmm, someone's making toast in the kitchen even though it's supposed to be closed. I'm going to go release my feet from my stank shoes and sleep for three hours. When I awake, it's a race to Poland.
Hopefully, I'll have better adventures to share. Wait, wait... let me share some excerpts from poems and things the english/history teacher had when I tried to explain how socially inept I am:
'Putting on a face, to meet the faces that you meet.
Polite meaningless word.
One may smile and smile, and be a villain.
Those are daggers in men's smiles.
Labels: Ireland
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