Dooblin!

After checking in to a great hostel right in the center of Temple Bar for €11 by the name of Barnacles, I went searching for some good traditional Irish music. Bar after bar, pub after pub, I only found guys with their guitars wishing their name was Jason KBMraz or whatever. Someone saw my last quick "enter, listen, leave", and so he said to me in this great Irish accent: "Skyooz me, are you lochin' far soom tradishnal Ayrish Music?" "That is exactly what I'm lochin' for," I responded, impressed and surprised that it apparently was written on my forehead. He said, "Right, ya see dat der street? You'll reach a sqwaar, goo past dat and there'll be a poob on yer right called Alivr Sint Jaan Go-Goody, alright? Goo oop to deh farst floor, and der you'll have yer good Ayrish music!" I had him repeat the name of the poob about seven times only to discover, when I arrived, that it had written on it: Oliver St. John Gogarty. Okkk . . . . Anyway, moral of the story is that I walked in, got myself a half-pint of cider and started listening to the music, which was awesome. The same guy came over and said, "Are yeh byerself?" So he invited me over to where he and his cousin from Manchester were sitting. Can you imagine the accents I was dealing with? The story ends as every one does that begins in an Irish pub, I imagine. He ended up buying me drinks which was quite generous, seeing as a drink costs about 6 Euro (about $10!), so we stayed laughin' about who knows what until tree in da marnin'. We took a picture and I went right around the corner to my nice warm bed. On my grand entrance into the hostel, the guy at the front desk said, "Hey mate, . . . Welcome to Dublin!" And that . . . was my first day in Ireland.