If there is a cooler city in the world, I’ve not heard about it. Dubliners party.
Somehow, these pretty people have changed from the bigoted, fighting Irish of my youth to the friendly, smiling, inclusive kids who grace the festive streets of Dublin. I suspect it is because they are exceptionally well-educated. It should also be noted that they have no student debt to show for it. They are the first generation of Irish in over 100 years who have known peace all their lives. Thank you George Mitchell. Please come home and do the same for us.
The Irish like flowers nearly as much as they like Guinness, a good joke, and red hair. I’m with them on the Guinness thing…and the red hair…oh, what the heck, I must be Irish.
The poor Irish cops have neither guns nor Tasers. Must make for a dull day, except for Guinness, redheads and a good laugh. Sometimes all three at once, which is my personal preference.
Despite what you may have heard, there are black people in Ireland. 
This is not sculpture. They sit and stand motionless until some overly generous dude, like the one on the right, drops a euro or two into their bucket. Then they bow and wave, gently. “Rod, how do they keep the dog still?“
The building housing the National Museum of Ireland (spoiler alert: there are no paintings) is a work of its own. I learned all about the formation of peat, but I did not get bogged down by the subject. [Forgive the geology pun, but Tony might be reading this, though I cannot imagine why.]
This pub-fested alley is always busy and on Friday it is packed.
Hmmm, hadn’t noticed this cute guy looking at me. Damn!
We finished the day eating tapas at a noisy, spirited place.
Great food.
Sambandar 