An entry written cozy in my hotel bed a few months back.
Architecturally the city looks to be related to the UK. Old and historic. The only difference, in my opinion, there is no ‘grand’. Everything is just plain cute. The colourful low rise buildings hold hands as they line the cobble stone ways. Each path reveals a new adventure. Which one would you take?
I often refer to myself as Dora the Explorer, and here I sure felt like her. All I was missing was a purple backpack.
A few wrong turns. A couple snapshots. A short stop in the middle of a little square filled with smiling faces basking in the infrequent rays of sunshine. And then…. we finally found it. The famous Temple Bar. To be perfectly honest, I expected it to be a bit ‘bigger’ or even maybe slightly more visible. But nonetheless we dissolved into its red doors.
I’m not much of a beer drinker, my blood craves the sweet tastes of vodka but as tradition calls in Ireland, one must taste the raw bitterness of a fresh pint of Guinness. (On a side note, to be safe I made sure I ordered a half pint to save myself from the embarrassment of a giant fish bowl being placed in front of my face).
How was the beer? Like I said, I’m not much of a beer drinker.
An after lunch afternoon stroll triggers deep conversation. It’s moments like this you find yourself making the hardest choices. Whether to reveal yourself to a stranger or hide yourself from a good friend.
The sun had set and what better way to end a glorious day in Dublin than to experience it under the moonlight. By this time the streets, nooks and walkways were familiar. No troubles or detours trying to find our happy place. Apparently, this was where the entire town had met that night. So congested with people you could barely pass through from one side to the other. Here we were again at The Temple Bar.
The flight back seemed almost too short. So many stories we gathered in our short time together. Stories and memories that made a imprint on my life and the journey that was beginning….