At this point in my travels I succumbed to the tyranny of my itinerary. In planning this trip I determined that I’d need five days in Dublin (including side trips out of the city), but split it up so that Dublin would be at the beginning and end of a loop around the southern portion of Ireland. I was enjoying my time in Galway, and in a nicer hostel I could spend another night, perhaps take a coach tour out to Connemara or the Burren. Or I could head north to Derry and stop en route for a night in Westport or Sligo.
Instead I took a train across the country to Dublin on 2 February 1998. For the first time on my trip my hostel of choice, Avalon House, was totally booked so I ended up at Kinlay House Dublin. It was a bit shabbier than it’s Galway cousin but otherwise okay and I had a great view of Christ Church Cathedral. After dropping off my stuff I visited the Dublin Writer’s Museum. It’s a nice place with lots of hand-written manuscripts and first editions, but the thing about books is that they’re more interesting to read than to look at behind glass.
That evening I went on a pub crawl on what would prove to be a quiet Monday night. Mulligan’s is reputed to pour the best pint in Dublin and had a certain charm as a group of old men sang little ditties as they quaffed their Guinness. The Porter House offered fine microbrews and a match between Glasgow Celtic and Aberdeen on the television (Monday Night Football?). Celtic won the match and a group of men walked through the streets singing about how Aberdeen is a “shite football team” to the tune of the Monkees’ “Daydream Believer.” The last pub I visited was The Bleeding Horse – a long walk away and dead as a doornail.
Should’ve stayed in Galway.