Thanks to Jack for this post...
Having learnt that Paris was to be overrun with communists for the weekend, I thought best to wait them out in quiet Dublin. After an ear-grating hour aboard RYANAIR (which is read as it is written), I walked through customs only to find the first arrivals of what was to be another monchromatic crowd boarding shuttles to descend.
Having learnt that Paris was to be overrun with communists for the weekend, I thought best to wait them out in quiet Dublin. After an ear-grating hour aboard RYANAIR (which is read as it is written), I walked through customs only to find the first arrivals of what was to be another monchromatic crowd boarding shuttles to descend.
After meeting Mark, Charlotte, Nicola and Tim at the 'Tart with the Cart,' we headed home in the first few minutes of Saint Patrick's day.
With the arrival of Anna and Melia, we headed down to Patrisk/Saint Nicholas Street to watch the parade, which included marching bands, rainbow dancers and a bicycle-dragon hybrid.
I don't understand the relevance of this wheelchair-bound rhinoceros either, but I enjoyed it.
Fortunately, we finished our parade-watching and lunching just in time to find sufficient seats watch Ireland get slaughtered at the pub.
Fortunately, we finished our parade-watching and lunching just in time to find sufficient seats watch Ireland get slaughtered at the pub.
The luck of the Irish was with us again for dinner, scoring a window table to watch the crowds slowly degenerate. Later on, it was off to further pubs for further music, the highlight of which was a fiddle and guitar duo, which whipped the paddies (and us) into a jigging frenzy.
So concluded the best St. Patrick's day I've ever had.
Sunday saw us visiting Dublin's excellent dead zoo, with details not only of the animal's taxonomy and habitat, but also who shot it. Even the proboscis monkey (apparently a spitting image of President Michael Higgins) appears to have been contrived into its most ferocious pose.
A ferris wheel ride gave a superb and mildly terrifying view of the city.
Our final day was spent on a country outing in Wicklow. Following a hearty lunch at the famous Johnny Fox's café, a republican hideout in the days of Daniel O'Connell, we visited the 7th century Monastic city at Glendalough. The view and buildings were splendid.
While I've barely touched the surface of Ireland, I had a terrific time, thanks to the wonderful hospitality of Mark, Charlotte and friends. Thanks very much. Sure it's grand!
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