Robyn and I flew into Dublin around 9:30am on a Saturday morning without a place to stay or any definite plans for the weekend. We were putting our faith in "something coming through" and good ol' Irish luck. From the airport we took a double-decker bus into the city centre, O'Connell Street, and literally just wandered down the first street we came to. It happened to be Talbot Street, which also happened to be where we stumbled across The Pillar Bed & Breakfast.
The buildings in Dublin do not have the same architectural detail that they do in Manchester--for the most part. Of course, the city has some amazing displays of architecture, namely the National Museum of Ireland and the Irish parliament building. However, much of the city centre's buildings are not highrises and do not have a lot of fancy architectural detail on the building faces. The effect is much like the scene of an old Western film, a long road flanked by flat-faced buildings rising up either side of it.
So The Pillar was literally a pillar of a building with a doorway. Later in the day, we walked right by it once or twice once we had checked in because it was so inconspicuous. However, we did stumble upon it about ten minutes after stepping off the bus and decided--being homeless and all--that we should check it out. Inside we found what turned out to be an opportunity we could not pass up.
A young guy named Washington, of all things, welcomed us. The Pillar had two rooms vacant and promised us no luck anywhere else. We were willing to take Washington on his word because everything was booked hostel-wise. Being a bed & breakfast, we got more than we had expected from any hostel: one (entirely clean) room with a bunk bed outfitted with a blanket and pillow that put my already shameful Castle Irwell provisions to further shame. The deal also included breakfast in bed, delivered at whichever time we chose.
Once we had a place to stay for the evening, Robyn and I set off for a meal. We ended up at a small breakfast diner that obviously catered to locals more than anyone else. I think we both regretted the breakfast as soon as it was placed in front of us, but it was certainly our hunger and the spirit of a traditional Irish breakfast that drove us there in the first place.
We got two sausages, two pieces of bacon, two pieces of toast, one egg, black and white pudding and a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee in the UK is literally one cup--no refills, and often the cup is 3/4 full. Our one egg was cooked sunny-side-up and apparently we did not have a choice. And black and white pudding sounded deliciously appetizing on the menu, but turns out to be two miniature pucks of sausage-pancakes. We still do not know what they are. But one was a brownish colour and the other was most definitely black.
The rest of our first day in Dublin was spent wandering streets and browsing stores. The area of the city we were in is greatly developed for tourists, and so is particularly accssible to those travelling by foot. Much of the city of Dublin is like this--the main streets are packed with people.
The day was especially sunny, with blue and cloudless skies helping along my impression of Dublin quite well. But the city at night is what really tipped the scales in good favour for me.
More to come...
An anecdote:
I was telling my South African friend a story today that involved mentioning The Great One. In case the obvious needs to be stated: #99.
Anyway, I noticed a blank look from the South African when I mentioned Canada's golden boy, so I asked:
You do know who Wayne Gretzky is, right?
"Uhhh," a vacant glance comes my way, "... he's .... he's an ice hockey player ...right?" said Shaun, his tone drowning in uncertainty.
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Culture shock factor: Wayne Gretzky does not cause people around the globe to drop to their knees and pray "I'm not worthies" to the Great One. I never knew.
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