Dublin!

I have returned from Death Dublin. It was great, minus the disgustingly high fever, near-fainting spells, utter exhaustion, and very inconveniently timed cold. No, seriously. I spent too much time being sick as a dog to really appreciate Dublin.

The moment we stepped out of the plane, the cold hit me and I got the chills. Then we took a bus ride to Castletown, which should really be called Housetown since it was more like a large manor. I don't remember what significance it held. I remember very clearly that I wanted to kill myself and rip my feet off, because it was a long walking tour. By the time we finished the tour, I excused myself so I could pass the fuck out in the hotel (which was a very nice hotel, thank you Mr. and Mrs. Bing). I was unconscious for about 4 or 5 hours, all the while shivering enough so that my upper body muscles began to ache. During that time period, the rest of the group went on two other walking tours. Now I'm very grateful to the Bings for sponsoring our trip and paying for nearly everything, but why should there be a walking tour mandate? I think buses or horse-drawn carriages or freakin rickshaws would be acceptable alternatives. I've decided not to do any walking for at least three days.

The next day was a lot better. We went to the Chester Beatty museum, a display of religious artifacts (Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism). Pretty fantastic. Plus they had chairs, so no complaints there. After a bit of exploring around the city, including a square in which we saw horrid legless birds (sad :(), we went to Christ Church Cathedral, which was also brilliant. We had a lot of fun exploring the crypts, locking ourselves up in the ....wrist-locking thingum, whatever you call it... and listening to creepy organ music. After that, people split up into three different tours to explore various city attractions. I decided to meet up with my friends from high school who are studying in Dublin, and that was definitely my favourite part of the day. Minus the hail and horrid rain and cold. We bummed around Dublin and recalled fun times in high school.

Saturday, we were supposed to go to the National Gallery, but a few of us woke up late and tried to catch up with the group, but could not for the life of us find either of the two entrances to the Gallery. Apparently the National Gallery is the Big Thing to do in Ireland. If that were the case then why the fuck could we not find our way in? So anyway, we left Dublin after that and went to Glendalough, this monastery and village founded by St Kevin (nobody knew who St Kevin was until later into the tour). It was very pretty. Cold as fuck, but gorgeous nonetheless.

So that's it on Dublin. I realise this is the most boring blog in existence. I will complement my lame descriptions with pictures... eventually. For now, I am going to bed. While it's true that so far in this country, I've failed to eat and shower regularly, I've at least been sleeping enough.