I walked over to the Rosslare train station, and there was a couple standing around waiting. I took this as a good sign. I knew that if I got to Enniscorthy, I could get a connecting train to Dublin, so I managed to ask them if the train went to Enniscorthy. It did, and we started talking. The train came, and they invited me to sit with them.
We talked for a while about stuff, then the guy asked me what religion I was. When I told him, he laughed and said he knew I was either that or a Mormon. The girl was also very pleased, since one of her best friends is a Witness. After that, we got on like a house on fire. Paul and Sarah were their names, and they had decided on the spur of the moment to head off to Dublin from Wales. Paul was in home renovation and joked endlessly about how he, like all good Welshmen, was in love with his sheep; Sarah was allergic to work and very, very witty; and they were both looking to get their minds off their troubles for a few days.
One thing Rosslare didn’t have, which I found both amazing and alarming, was a cash machine. I could have used the bureau de change on the ferry, but their commissions are insane. What this meant was that I was on a train with no way to pay for it (my railpass is not valid in Ireland and they only take euros). Paul traded me some pounds for euros and I was good to go. Thank you, Paul!We made the transfer at Enniscorthy, where we learned that due to a rockfall, the line was closed between Greystones and Bray. We would have to take a connecting bus between the stations. This extended our trip by probably half an hour, but it was cool to see a random Irish town. It looked pretty much exactly like you’d think it would, just like the pictures.
We got into Dublin pretty late, around 10:30, and I was immediately glad to be with some people. Right from the train station, you can tell that Dublin is insane. There were kids jumping the till, driving the stationkeepers crazy. Dudes and ladies running around, laughing, being slightly drunk or more than slightly drunk. What you might expect from Dublin. Paul and Sarah told me that their hotel was pretty cheap and I should stay there if there were any rooms available there. So we caught a cab to their hotel. Their hotel was actually full (on a Monday night!), but I was directed to another one down the street that was much less of a deal but actually had rooms available.
On my way to this hotel someone yelled “BASTARDS!” and threw an egg at me. Not sure if it was meant for me (I was alone at the time, and the yelling of “bastards” was clearly plural), but I got a bit on my shoe and a bit on my suitcase. It came off pretty easy, no harm done. But still. It could have been worse, I suppose. Paul said maybe they threw stuff at me because I looked like such a tourist. Unfortunately, he’s right. What he doesn’t realize is that this is how I dress every day. It’s sort of like walking into Texas dressed like Jeff Goldblum in Buckaroo Banzai.
Well, it’s not that bad. I have seen some locals dressed like me. Old guys walking around with pipes in their mouths and newspapers under their arms, maybe walking a well-behaved Jack Russell terrier. It’s typical, I suppose, that I would regularly dress like an old man from another country. So I toned it down a bit for the rest of my Dublin stay.The next day I slept late enough to miss breakfast, at which point I realized it had been more than 24 hours since I last ate. I was so hungry my stomach had given up trying to send me signals and was too busy gnawing away at its lining to worry about anything else. I met up with Paul and Sarah again and we walked around Dublin for a while.
Dublin is a beautiful city, with the river Liffey bisecting it. There is a lot of tourism there, though. Once again, not many service industry people spoke English as their native language, and I didn’t hear anyone speaking Gaelic except occasionally on the radio. A lot of the city is old, or at least made to look old, but there are new buildings going up all the time as well. We took a walk through St. Stephens Park, which was beautiful. There were swans and tourists and park benches and grass you weren’t allowed to trod on. We got some lunch. I got an overpriced steak that was pretty good for my first meal in 28 hours. We did a bit of shopping. I got some seasick pills for the ferry ride to Stranraer, just in case. At around 4:00, we went to the Temple Bar section of town for our first pub. (Temple Bar is referred to in my Lonely Planet book as Temple Barf.) 
I’d had a Guinness with lunch, and it did not taste any different from the norm. So at the pub, I switched to Murphy’s, which was pretty great. After a couple of those, we switched pubs to The Temple Bar, which had an indoor smoking section for Paul and adequate seating for Sarah, and we planted ourselves there for the balance of the evening. It was my intention to try a lot of different beers, but I think I stuck to just Guinness or Murphy’s. I had meant to try the Smithwick’s but I’d overheard someone complain that the line needed to be rinsed. No thank you. Paul was disappointed that every time he tried to chat up a girl she didn’t speak English. Maybe they did?I was very disappointed to see that Budweiser is readily available in even the most Irish of pubs. American culture’s existence here in general kind of irks me, but to go to the drinking capital of the world and see the most mediocre beer in the world as one of the major choices is annoying at best.
Had an Irish whiskey to top it off, then off to bed to sleep it all off. Paul was pretty drunk, Sarah was ready to get some sleep, so we promised to meet in the morning and I went back to my room and posted the previous blog entry. Then I got some sleep.
Next morning I had a hearty breakfast, checked out of the hotel, met up with Paul and Sarah again and we did some more walking around. We found Connolly Station, where I would be heading out to Belfast from, and we stopped off at one more pub for one last pint. The Celtic was one of those real local Irish pubs, not a tourist attraction like in Temple Barf. Out in Temple Bar, every pub seems to have an even bigger gift shop attached to it. This place out by Connolly actually gave me a Guinness with a Perfect Pour, something apparently the tourists in Temple Bar are not ready to wait for. So after one last pint came some sad goodbyes and I left Paul, Sarah, and Dublin behind.
Things I learned: Dublin is full of tourists, it is crazy at night, it is probably the last place in the world you’d want to get in a barfight with someone, and it is quite possibly the best place to party in the world. Also, Radiohead was right even if they were being sarcastic; Meeting People Is Easy.
Things I saw: lots of pretty girls (possibly more than I’ve ever seen in one place); shamrocks (definitely more than I’ve ever seen in one place); old guys dressed exactly like me; lots of Garda everywhere to keep things safe, especially in Temple Bar; a street sign that said Disc Machine, though I know not why (I think it's something to do with parking discs).
