Dublin, day 4


Jesus… what the hell happened after Riverdance?

You returned back to the apartment and Eoin had guests over. 2 girls whose names you forget, and a guy named Phil. Initially you spent an hour debating the merits of digital cameras, and even learned a thing or two about your own. Typical tourist with a giant camera she doesn’t know how to use!

Drinking, smoking, laughing, arguing–what have you. You strained all night to decipher their Irish as the accents got thicker and thicker beer by beer. Eoin told you initially that life in 66 (his apartment number) is typcially a group of friends casually meeting for a few beers, and for whatever reason the party never stops. 4, 5, 6 in the morning is typical. You must admit, his description did not fall short.

By 4 in the morning, Eoin signed off. The other girls had left. Just you and Phil, and you of course are not one to just pass out. Drinking and chain smoking straight through the night, into the next day… didn’t pass out until 2:30pm. You found yourself nice and really tranqued up, lying on a couch at Phil’s place two doors down, watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas twice through on mute, with techno playing from the corner. Low key night–or day–or whatever you think of it.

Managed to snag 2.5 hours of sleep, then went back to Eoin’s for a shower. Then a workout. Ran to the beach–and along it. 15′ run, 7′ of core exercises–four rounds.

Next morning, up, eat, and out the door to check out the Natural History Museum. Very cool. Learned a bit.

Returned to the apartment. Eoin and Phil took you on a little road trip to Wicklow county, to this little area around Billingston Lake (?), where you were asked to snap 100 pictures of this farmer’s land. Turns out Eoin is deeply involved–and by involved, pretty much in charge–in the creation of a little fesival/concert affectionately named Knackanstackan. So around you went, snapping photos, offering a couple ideas about features the festival should have: chill spaces, body painting stations, small boxes along the beach for dancers and light spinners, an art project, torches, what have you. Part of you wants to stick around the help build some of the displays. Who knows. You’ve been invited to this weekend-long party.

Looks like your mussel farm hostess flaked on you. Worried she won’t have enough work to give you, so you jumped back online to apply to other sites. You landed a job very near Dublin City, in Wicklow county! 2-3 weeks there. You could, feasibly, devote your weekends to building Knackenstacken, since you will be so nearby.

Anyway, this new job is a little different. It’s this sort of Yoga retreat. Large property, self-sustained farm. Wind and solar power. Burning vegetable oil for fuel. Almost all ingredients in meals come from the farm. Free yoga for the Wwoofers. You’re headed down there tomorrow.

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