The breakfast room and lobby were completely empty. Only a few cars were on the road. Ireland was playing in the World Cup, the first match versus Cameroon. I had some brown bread and after awhile the woman at the hotel shows up. Other people come down, and suddenly I can see cars rushing about on the road. Ireland and Cameroon took a draw, 1 to 1. As the taxi driver had mentioned to us, good thing we weren’t flying out this morning or we would never be able to get a cab.

Glen was feeling a bit better, so we took the bus into town and slowly walked about. We did a little shopping, but books, music, and games were all very expensive and generally from the U.S., so not worth buying here. We visited Trinity College and the Book of Kells, a beautiful library with a good exhibit on the book and several other old illustrated books. The only downside was it was very crowded with tourists. So we made our way to a less visited spot in a less reputable part of town—the birthplace of George Bernard Shaw. Although a bit expensive, we had the place to ourselves and it came with a very nice audio tour that presented Victorian middle class townhome life. Yet, it was an unhappy family, with the stereotypical drunken, inattentive father and the perhaps unstereotypical artistic mother who had an affair with her music teacher. GBS only lived there until he was 10, but it gave us an interesting view of his life, with many letters and photos. And the museum attendant did confirm he was a staunch vegetarian who died at 94 after breaking his hip falling out of a tree. Amazing man.

We then walked to the Guinness Storehouse where we just visited the shop. Glen’s stomach was still too queasy for a pint. It was very industrial, both the brewery and the neighborhood until you go inside where it was like Disneyland.

Pasta for dinner, then the bus back to the hotel for an early evening.