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Dublin…again
All roads lead to Dublin, and I think it’s because of this that I find myself here again. I’m on the better end of three and a half weeks in Ireland and, just as the water on the banks of the river Liffey seem to slightly rise every day, so
The People’s Republic of Cork
Come to Cork. Seriously, stop reading this blog, open up your browser, and buy a plane ticket. Come on do it! What was that? You’ve got work tomorrow? Alright, I understand (sigh). No, I’m not hurt; it’s just that I was really looking forward to sitting with you in this
Hitchin’ for a Shave
Every person has a mental list of certain goals they’d like to achieve before they die: visiting Machu Picchu; climbing Mount Everest; witnessing the Northern Lights. Regardless of what your goals are, there are few things more satisfying than checking one off your list. Today I had something very special
Wexford, Indian Food, and Little Red Cars
Wexford is a very small town. I say this not because you can walk from one end to the other in less than 15 minutes, or because the population is roughly 9500 people. I say Wexford is a very small town because this morning a girl in a little red
Customs Agents, Rock Stars, and Peyote
Ugggh. I know I should have started this blog earlier. I’m sitting in Dublin’s Easy Internet Cafe, breathing in the sickening yet delicious smell of the adjoining Subway sandwich shop and trying to make sense of a week’s worth of: Guinness, irate customs officials, jetlag, sub-human bar bouncers, Irish rock
