Dublin over.

Oh Ireland.  Home of rolling green hills, shamrocks, lucky leprechauns, and the occasional drunk Irishman.  

Wait, did I say occasional?  Correction:  all Irishmen are drunk.  Most of the time.  But let me tell you, they sure know how to welcome visitors to their country.  Compared to the English, the people I met in Dublin this weekend were the epitome of friendliness.  

Unfortunately, the majority of the people we actually met were not truly Irish.  Dublin seems to have become a metropolitan center for immigrants (like most big cities) and is now home to a wide variety of people.  For instance, our first night in Ireland's capitol, we met three young men who were members of the German Navy.  And, while we couldn't quite seem to conquer the German tongue twisters they tried to teach us, language barriers were overcome with numerous pints of Guinness.  Laughter was the only language necessary.  

Of course, we saw the sights and museums, but I think what I will remember most about my trek to Dublin is the tendency of old Irishmen there to offer their time-tested advice.  I will never forget the wise words of our friend Merry, whom we met at a little pub called The Celt. He was drunk (of course) but offered some insight on the gentleness of the Irish.  "See you have a ladybug," he whispered, as he pointed to his empty flat palm, "and you have to be kind to it."  With the conclusion of his statement, he blew on his imaginary beetle and imitated it flying away with his hands flapping, butterfly style.  

In conclusion, I wasn't quite sure what most of the drunken Irishmen were getting at when they gave me advice.  Most of the time it had to do with what kind of man I should marry.  I guess I will never truly understand Ireland from just a three day visit to Dublin.  Someday, I vow to return and get my own piece of the shamrock.