Cockels and Mussels...Alive, alive, alive.

I'm going to attempt to write a post that equates in duration to the Lord of The Rings trilogy. So, a post that will take about 11 hours to read. Move over Harry Potter, move over.....No, wait. Ive only ever read Harry Potter.

Do you guys ever think life would be a little more interesting if we all had 1 designated day a month, where we had to add an extra letter to all our nouns. Like Instead of the word 'Internet', we had to add an O - 'Interneto'. 'Harry Pootter.' Chucko Norris'. 'Helloooooooo!' Sorry, too much.

Im going to write this post as it comes to me. Restricted by time, i must write as it comes to me, un-chronologically and in semi-untruths (mainly overstatements and exaggerations.)

Were in Dublin still, its been about 5 days here and i think me and Brad both agree that this is the best city, yet. Bath was 'oh so more beautiful' but this place has a comfortable and lifting vibe that sits well with social activities like the night life and hostels. Unlike Sydney, or New York, or any real American/Asian inspired city, Dublin and most European city's are without Skyscrapers. Its a little odd. I always could differentiate CBD's of citys by generally how large the skyscrapers were, here its a little harder. Maybe CBD's here are the product of being situated in the middle of a pub district. This is Ireland after all.

A wonderful observation that Ive made is that here its ok to drink Cider. Back home its not ok to drink Cider. It doesn't really matter who your with, that person will generally always make a comment, even if its as insignificant as "Strongbow huh?". People here, drink Magners, Bulmers (which are sometimes the exact same drink, dont ask me why) and Strongbow. Of course there are a couple more, but those ciders are for Retards. Or Astronaughts.

Everything, like in London is made of Brick. Even the beds. Perhaps if i asked for 3 floorboards at the hostel i might both get a cheaper stay, and a more comfortable sleep. We had initially bought 4 days worth of accommodation at a hostel called the 'Avalon'. I met a guy very early on in my trip, and he was talking about the variety of Hostels. Some border on Hotels. Others, public toilets. The Avalon borders on a Hotel/ Hostel. Where we are now, as we couldn't extend our stay at the Avalon, borders on Public toilet/ Hostel. Probably closer to a Public toilet than anything.

Lugging our heavy backpacks from the avalon on the Friday morning, stopping once or twice for Comic Book stores that take my heart away (Superman comics galore. AKA Heaven.), we make the journey, sweaty, stinky and always a little hungry, drop our bags off and do our stuff for the day - "check in's at 3" says reception. (If you can call a wooden board, covered in black blobs of what looks like aged chewy, with assorted pamphlets, wilting flowers, and a yellow, age stained computer, a reception.) Back at about 5, after viewing the excellent new Simpson's movie, we enter our home for the next 3 days to be greeted not by reception, but by the erratic manager, hair falling from his greasy scalp, both eyes which are darting, independently from one another (one looking one way, the other - the other,)

Manager: Did you guys stay last night?
Us: Huh? Ah No.
Manager: You stayed last night?
Us: No, were just checking in.
Manager: So you've spoken to the police?
Us: Huh? What?

We notice about 6 police standing around the reception, note books in hand, walkie-talkies, frowns that could cut wire. Interviewing guests, customers, anyone.

Manager: So how many days have you been here?
Us: No, we came in the other day to buy a bed for the next 3 nights. So we haven't actually stayed here at all.
Manager: Oh right, so you haven't been here before.
Us: Well, we have, once today to drop our bags in, once the other day to buy accommodation.
Manager: Go...go, yes, go over to the police.

Policeman then proceeds to interview us.

Policeman: Have you seen anything suspicious?
Brad: Aahhh....define suspicious?
Policeman: Just, anything out of the ordinary.
Brad: *duh*.
Joel: I saw a French man...he looked flustered.
Policeman: No thats irrelevant.
Us: Oh, sorry.

He takes our details, then he tells us maybe it would be a good idea if us boys went for a drink for maybe 4 hours or so. Then you'll be fine to check in.

Brad asks "Is it still safe to stay here?"
Policeman rolls his eyes, shrugs, expresses no need to worry: "Oh yeah! Sure!"

Don't have to ask us twice. We hit the pub, like a golf ball to a glass window. We're smashed. No thats not true - I just wanted to use that really snug simile. Do you get it: Smashed. Boy that was a good one. Anyway...

...For a hostel that caters accommodation for about 50 people, there is a convenient one shower on the first floor (we being situated on the third,) then the line of 2 to 3 people, standing on a wet bathroom floor, covered in pubic hair and grime, no ventilation, dripping ceiling and odors like you wouldn't believe, you actually persuade yourself, if not convince yourself that - i can last without a shower for the next 6 hours, maybe when the lines subdued. I know there is a running joke on this blog about how stinky both Brad and I are, that we never shower, but this time its actually more factual, we don't stink, not yet (we always smell pretty, especially me) but after 3 days, well we may just be what we've always written about. Like a forgotten egg sandwich, baking between the seats of a station wagon, on a hot summers day.

Remember this: The weather in Ireland is better than the weather in england. Ok, thats all you have to remember. Everything else i write can go forgotten, I'm only here to make you smile. Not to teach you anything.

Our, (or particularly my) bank account is like an un-watered tree. Slowly, dying, slowly wilting. Becoming smaller and smaller. So if anyone would like to give me a little bit of extra money, send me and email and I will promptly reply with my bank details, and we can do a really exciting direct deposit. It'll be fun! Go on, treat it like a dare. I dare you!!

Me and Brad have done an exciting Bus tour of Dublin. You sit in a double decker bus, the driver talks to you, with a ranging sense of humour (depending upon what bus you hop into) and tells you local history and even sings a song. We pass all the sights of Dublin, Brad being particularly impressed by the Guinness Brewery, he went onto a euphoric state of convulsions and pagan whisperings. "Twas the Devil!!! TWAS THE DEVIL!!! DIDDLY-DEE, PO-TAAA-TOES!!".
We visited 2 separate Art gallery's, the one with all the old paintings was awesome, the one with all the new ones was pathetic - although nice building. I think i could make better paintings if i threw my own dung at a blank canvas then dragged it across the local sporting field. We saw some interesting Post-modern multimedia displays with excellent photography but all we really wanted was a Pint.

1.Tchock means Irish Prime Minister.
2.The Liffey, like "I float down the Liffey" actually isn't a metaphor from that Radiohead song 'How To Disappear Complately', the Liffey is the main river of Dublin. There ya go.
3.Dublin means Blackpool. And was originally pronounced Doo-blin.
4. Talk to you next time.

(When i start compiling dot points - its a clear, very clear indication that Ive had enough.)