Today is a momentous day. I have brought my child to Dublin.
My child, I might add, is less than eight years away from being the age I was when I was living here in college. This is strange. By strange, I mean both “surreal” and also “there is no possible way, because I am only about 26.”
We just got off the bus (Bus Eireann! at Busaras!) and checked into our guesthouse – I haven’t even been out in the city yet – and already it feels wrong, somehow. None of the storefronts look the same. There is light rail. There is all kinds of modernization. I am not staying at The Maples. You know… just wrong.
At least I am staying on the proper side of the Liffey. It would be beyond imagining if I came to Dublin and was somehow reborn as a southsider. We were proud northsiders back in the day. Venturing down to St. Stephens Green was about as far south as we’d go, except for that one time we went to see Rocky Horror and couldn’t get a taxi back. Walked all the way back to Drumcondra/Glasnevin. In my black boots from Henry Street.
But I shouldn’t dawdle. I am only sleeping here for two nights. (“Well, I slept there two nights!“) I need to get out and show Q the sights.
xo – Lori