656. Yawn.

Pretty, don't you think? It's Irish Gaelic. Most official signs (directional, etc.) are written first in Gaelic with the English translation below.

Dublin's nightlife is wasted on people like me--me being a person who enjoys going home to a good book rather than being out dancing and drinking until the wee hours of dawn. The other night I went out with an Italian chap for a drink, and the Temple Bar area of Dublin was crawling and hopping with hip young things who made me feel like I needed a walker. (Snoop Dog was even partying with the locals, but I didn't see him.) Daniel is 27 years old and guessed me to be 29. I've hit the age where prudent young people respond with "29" when guessing my age. After I reveal my age, they exclaim, "You don't look that old!"

Excuse me, but 35 isn't old.

I'm still young enough (or immature enough!) to be humored when people guess my age, but it's becoming less fun as people become less honest.

Onward...
If you love music, then the Traditional Irish Pub Crawl is not to be missed. (Link, here.) There was more pub than crawl last night, because we went to 3 of the 4 promised pubs. I think my group was lucky--it afforded us more time for music, music commentary and history. The two musicians who led the musical and pub tour reminded me of my favorite teachers: engaged, engaging, and serious about their craft.

If you read my blog, David and Michelle, close your eyes!
This is your postcard. (Left lower corner.) Ha!
(Note to my other readers: We humor each other with ugly, weird, or absurd postcards whenever we travel.)

Another worthwhile "attraction" was the Literary Pub Crawl. (Link.) Our two actor entertained us with stories about Dublin's famous authors (Yeats, Wilde, Beckett, etc.), as well as performed a few comedic scenes from the authors' works. I especially enjoyed the pubs on this tour: O'Neils, The Stand, and a couple on Duke St. just off of the shopper's haven, Grafton Street.

Maybe all of Ireland is wasted on the likes of me, and not just its nightlife: I'm perfectly happy with a bowl of ice cream and a cappuccino. This is in Howth, Ireland.

On Saturday, I took a bus ride up to Howth--a "village" north of Dublin:

It was bloody damn cold in Howth. Along the pier are benched coves to warm up in:

Sure, this guy is blurry, but rest assured, he is warm!
I gave him the boot to kick up my heels:

I'm feeling sleepy. It's a quarter to three in the afternoon. I'm heading back to my room for a nap.

It's my last full day in Ireland. Tomorrow, I fly to Italy. Ciao!