The previous two days have felt like speed walking around a lazy river. Not because of any fast pace, though I have been walking much faster, (everyone here either crawls, or walks at one treadmill notch under jogging), but because everything is going slower, yet at the same time my mind still seems to be at normal speed (which is faster than I would like it to be). For the first time in a long while I've been able to sleep in past 6:30 or 7:00. It's nice.

I woke up two days ago to an older black man playing slow jazz on a saxophone outside my open window, which of course made it convenient to lay around for awhile (really stressing those pressing appointments). I got up around 10 and set off to explore Dublin with nothing but the clothes on my back, my camera, and a protein bar. This turned out to not be enough. 

I was determined to walk around as much as possible, really get a feel for the city, and started towards the docks as my first goal. These were reached easily enough in a few hours, with a couple of stops along interesting bridges and landmarks. After crossing through I walked aimlessly, just zig zagging along the zig zagged streets and corners (by the way, the streets here don't work in blocks the same way they do in the States, I mean, sure, you could call some of this a block, but by block you really mean some kind-of shape resembling more of a triangle or a trapezoid than a "block"), stopping at things I find interesting to grab some pictures (or a shameless self-portrait in the window of a parked car). 

Naturally, before too long I found myself in the low rent section of Dublin, something that jumps out at me via a bag of garbage being thrown out of a window by a big white woman wearing a wife beater. "Oh, 'scuse me, din't see you down there.". No, I expect she didn't. 

There were piles of trash all along the street and strange pieces of detritus that exuded poverty in dirty waves of now forgotten memories. Broken children's toys, a stroller, a bent up bicycle, all clinging to existence through some sad story of misuse and abandonment  And the small enclosed spaces, the alcoves that would have normally been a tiny garden or patio outside the window for a basement apartment, these now hold strange collections of trash and other assortments of bizarre left overs. In one, a clothesline holding old clothes covered in mildew and dirt, in the next, a series of old dusty liquor bottles line the window, what appear to be immensely overgrown houseplants overwhelm the barrier of the next. It was a bizarre collection next to obvious wealth mere blocks (figuratively) away. 

I kept walking and found myself towards sunset at the Grand Canal (I only knew this by a large, weather worn sign proclaiming itself next to the waterway). The air has that briny salty smell that you imagine would go with a small fishing village and everything seems to be succumbing slowly to the corrosive effects of a salty atmosphere. I walk down a small path next to the canal towards a large, modern stadium shaped a bit like a doughnut which has been bent slightly towards the North and South corners. It's getting up around 5:30 by now and I have walked off of my map of Dublin, finding myself quite cold (that lone t-shirt has been getting a bit thin for several hours but the dipping sunlight stands my nipples at a whole new level of attention), and I start back. 

At least, I think I start back. Before too long I enter a very nice neighborhood, filled with new cars and better dressed people. Families cross my path, easily strolling towards Church or some other Sunday night attraction. I even see two elderly women casually kicking their shiatsu ahead of them (all five of them, only two leashes interestingly though) and for the first time I see people out jogging. I get the feeling I might have seen the only classic Dodge Charger in Ireland as one roars past. 

Keeping with the zig zag of the streets, I head in what I still think is the general direction of Dublin's city center, and in turn, my hostel. At a corner I come across a small grocery store and dip in for some fruit, cheese, crackers and yogurt, still oblivious to my misdirected attempts to find Dublin's downtown. Finally, around 7:00, with the sun set and the sky finally succumbing to darkness, I start to realize just how hopelessly lost I am. Of course, I hold off to stop and ask for directions until my plight fully sets in when I walk at least a half mile down a street I am SURE is going downtown only to end up at a dead end. Next thing I know I see a sign pointing towards "City Centre". It's pointing in the opposite direction from what I've been walking in for over an hour. 

Still speed walking in the wrong direction I finally spot the lights of a convenience mart (I know there's nothing anywhere close behind me, so I might as well head forward), or a gas station, or something with those overly bright and cheerful red and yellow signs that make up small "convenient" establishments near busy intersections. I'm about to walk inside when a man strolls out carrying a few small items and I jog up to him, "Excuse me, which way should I walk to get towards the city center?". "You're walking? It's back down that way." He points the direction I just came from. It's a sad thing when signs are right. "Why don't you just hop in, I'll drop you up at the LUAS (until I actually saw a sign I thought he was saying "Louis", quite confusing). And what are you doing wearing nothing but a t-shirt?", "Being a dumb America?" 

 We talked for a bit in front of the small train station and he told me his name was Eugene, a great guy probably in his 50's or 60's and he told me which direction to take the tram in. I finally make it to the station, slightly warmer thanks to Eugene's Mercedes, and attempt to buy a ticket. Unfortunately I have no idea where to go. All of the places are labeled as sections rather than street corners or anything I can recognize from my map, and yet again I have to enlist the help of an older woman in ordering my ticket. "I thought young people were supposed to be good with these technology things!" Yea, I know, I'm an idiot, sorry?

 

Getting on the tram I take it to the last stop and hop off for Grafton street, a long row of higher end shops blocked off from traffic for the public to walk in the street. Finally something I can find on my map. A man is playing Cold Play on the side of the street with an Irish accent. Seems a little ironic. Before I know it I'm back in familiar territory and grab some cool shots of the National Bank of Ireland in traffic (hand holding long exposure times on fence posts, street signs, and building corners makes for a lot of painfully blurry shots, but a few came out O-K).

  

Yesterday dawned with an unexpected level of clarity and crispness you can only get by waking up with a warm body and cold room. After a quick shower and a short bout of being locked out of my room half naked, (you have to get your key reset every morning, turns out that takes affect at 9:30) I packed my duffel bag with a few things and, per Eugene from the night before's suggestion, headed for a train station. At the train station confusion sets in once more, none of the maps and tourist information expect you to be quite as ignorant to the area as we tourists undoubtedly are. None of the "areas" you can take the train are on my map or the map at the information kiosk, so eventually I just pick the yellow one with an all day pass for nine euro's. See where it takes me. 

I ask the attendant which trains I can get on and he says any dart or commuter, O-K, next one of those leaving, I'll hope on. My ticket gets mechanically processed in a bright yellow kiosk and two glass panels whisk away to the sides alarmingly fast. "Bray - 3 Minutes" says a small panel above the escalator, perfect. I sit on the train and write a little bit, struggling to keep my pen steady against the bounce of the train. The coastline opens up on the left side of the car and we glide past a barren expanse of browns and blues, interspersed every now and again by a rocky outcropping of an island. Several uniformed school girls get on, gossiping about boys and exams and an assortment of other middle school worth topics. Slowly the train begins to empty until it's just me and a couple of elderly passengers towards the front of the car. 

The sun has stretched out from behind the clouds and as we reach Bray, the final stop for this train, the countryside opens back up to showcase a rocky beach and a blurry mountain in the distance. I set down my bag and eat a bite for lunch and watch as business people and others, finding themselves on their lunch break I suppose, walk along a small bath bordering the ocean. 

Before long a man and his wife walk past with their dog and begin stripping down to get in the water. This water is COLD, even the air is cold, but before long they are out swimming past the breakers. The woman comes back out pretty quickly but the man stays for probably 45 minutes or an hour. Finally I pack up my stuff and take a quick stroll through Bray. A typically Irish town with close knit homes and tight streets, a pub or two and a Church being the highest building in town. 

Re-boarding the train I head North. The train begins to repopulate as we near Dublin city, and again diminishes it's population as we pass back into the countryside, this time heading towards Howth. As we pulled into Howth the ocean seemed to switch to the other side of our train, which I've figured out now is because Howth is on a protrusion of land that sticks out into the Irish Sea. Howth is a fairly dirty looking place, and I don't spend long walking around here, it's several hours back to Dublin anyways, and nearing 5:00. 

As my lack of attention would demand, I miss my stop in Dublin and am forced to jump on another train, this time getting off at another station further from my hostel. I get on St. Stephans Green, one of the few streets I think I know and stop to pick up a two liter jug of milk and a half liter of Greek yogurt. I'm walking in what appears to be the right direction on my map, only to realize soon enough that this is not the only St. Stephans Green in Dublin. In fact, there's a few of them, and they don't all run in the same direction. 

Finally getting my bearings I head back towards Grafton street. Once on Grafton street I immediately realize I've stepped into the middle of a wedding procession (along with everyone else of the street) We're (we being myself and all the other complete strangers of the street) all walking along and right next to us is a bride and groom with a chain of groomsmen, bridesmaids and a couple of photographers, all right there in with the middle of the crowd. Everyone was laughing and smiling, and my sore feet seemed a little less weary in the midst of it all. I walked on ahead and snapped a few pictures, but unfortunately hand holding at night with a crowd and my only decent flash being back at the hostel, nothing came out very good. 

So after overdosing on lactose and editing as many images as my eyes will allow, I headed to sleep. Waking up this morning I find myself refreshed and Dublin to finally be the rainy city I expected. I think I will hit a few of the museums and galleries in the area, make sure my flight info is on the up and up, and see what I can get into this last day in Ireland. I'm listening to RESPECT by Aretha Franklin and watching it rain, it's going to be a good day.