Ah, Dublin. Rainy Dublin. Rainy cold Dublin.
I unfortunately don’t have many photos of it because of the almost constant torrential rain, but mind you that didn’t take away any of my enjoyment of the town.
While Dublin is quite in the mold of other international European cities (i.e., constant flows of foreign tourists, gaudy stretches of overpriced boutiques), it also has an immense amount of personality. Hundreds of cozy pubs and narrow cobblestoned streets leading to rows of village-like townhouses. But not as much personality as Cork, the place from which I am currently delivering this message.
I present to you the one thing I did have the opportunity to photograph, St. Stephen’s Green, named after Mr. Dedalus himself (not really):
Statue dedicated to the victims of the Great Potato Famine of the 1840s. Pretty brutal with the dog and the unborn baby on the right.
It was very green. And tranquil.
It was also really awesome to stay at the World’s Most Obnoxious Hostel, complete with young Frenchies smoking (illegaly) in the hallways like chimneys and dozens of American kids running around drunk for what was the likely the first time in their lives. Oh, well. I lived through it. Like Dublin’s own George Bernard Shaw said, “Youth is wasted on the young.”
I feel old. But not in an entirely bad way.
