My Dublin

Alright, writing this from the plane so when you read this, I would have returned from Dublin.

I had a great plan. I was gonna spend the days doing stuff I never had proper time for when I still lived there. Walking around St Stephen's green. Go to Wicklow. Go to the museums. See a theater show.

And then I got there. And I realised that 6 nights will barely be enough just to enjoy My Dublin, and I would rather have my Dublin than a tourist week.

My Dublin is noisy and gritty. My Dublin is messy pubs, pints by a fireplace, bad jokes,silly stories and laughter.

My Dublin is sharing bloke stories with a girlfriend. And lying Sunday evening watching bad movies with a friend and kebab pizza.

My Dublin is knowing without thinking which bus route is the quickest and easiest.

My Dublin is laughing at the knackers and giving a street sleeper a cigarette.

My Dublin is knowing the best store to buy green hair dye. And actually still melting in with the crowd after you've dyed it.

My Dublin is strangers chatting and friends hugging. Taxi drivers who fill you in with the latest news.

Most of all, My Dublin is the people you love.

It doesn't sound like much, even though it's so much more than can be explained.