Dublin, please.

I would like to go back. To Dublin. Five days there two years ago just isn't going to do it for much longer. For some reason being greeted with, "Top of the mornin'" today threw me back to the steep back staircase in our hostel, with its dust coated windows letting in cold morning light on our way down to the church-like breakfast dining hall.

Why the first thing I think of if the soggy toast we choked down and the freezing cold showers we suffered through instead of the view from the hills at Howth on the ocean or the rows of centuries old Celtic crosses in the country cemetaries is beyond me.
I do know that of all the places I've visited, Dublin has felt the most comfortable, despite our accomodations. Maybe thats because of all the room they leave in their days to eat hot thick foods, drink cold thick beers, and take naps. MMM.
We almost didn't make it out of Dublin after missing several busses and then having to stop at every corner on the way to the airport to pick up business Irishmen on their way to work and drop off drunk Irishmen on their way home from the pubs. Our exit through Dublin International looked like the McCallister family in Home Alone II but eventually we boarded our plane and headed back to the paella, metro systems, and sandy heat of Madrid. Maybe the fact we almost missed our flight was a sign, maybe I was supposed to stay in Dublin. Guess I'll just have to go back to find out...