Malted Barley

I keep meaning to post something about Dublin, about the smell of malted barley drifting in through the windows in the morning, about how cool this hostel is, but every time I sit down to do so I stop by the news sites, read about Katrina and get depressed and pissed-off and forget to write in my blog. So yes, I'm at the Brewery Hostel in Dublin which is next door to the Storehouse and across the street from the St. James Gate Brewery... the GUINNESS storehouse and brewery, that is! It's a magical feeling, knowing the you're breathing the air that is making the greatest form of liquid since water!
I really wish I was traveling with someone, though. Hanging out in a pub by myself isn't much fun and a little scary at times. I have to walk back alone and Dublin's streets are confusing, slightly dangerous and swathed in creepy yellow glow of the street lights. The first night I was here I must have walked 6 miles just trying to make my way back from downtown. All the streets in the British Isles have a tendency to fork or hit a traffic circle and come out facing a slightly different direction on the other side and aren't labeled very well. Dublin is no different and in fact the streets change names every block! For instance, I'm on Thomas St, but at some point about 50 feet from here it becomes Cornwall St and then High St and then I'm not quite sure what happens to it, as it then hits a busy intersection and I'm too preoccupied with not getting hit by a bus to pay attention.
My feet are throbbing at the end of the day and I'm developing shin splints. It's mostly my own fault though, due to my stubborn refusal to carry a map with me. I guess I keep thinking that if I get lost enough times that I'll have mapped out the whole city in my head anyway, and I'm partly right, except that I keep underestimating the sheer number of little unlabled roads that drift off into a direction I didn't think they were going to go. Turn around and the road I came from is gone. Fairies playing tricks on me, I tell ya!
Tomorrow I have a good long walk to the bus station and even though I was there today, I'm not sure I trust myself to get back there again, so I'm going to give myself about an hour and half to get there. There's a bus every two hours though, so I'm not too concerned. The ticket they gave me is the most archaic slip of paper ever issued officially. It makes no mention of time, the date of issue is off by a month and doesn't say when I'm coming back. All of this is printed in faint Xerox blue-purple. If I were a bus driver, I sure wouldn't accept it. And this is the most major bus station in the biggest city in the country! I shudder to think of what the station in Killarney will be like.
Yep, that's where I'm off to next. It's in the southwest corner so I'll get to see a good deal of the country on the ride over there. I'm contemplating taking a train back even though I've already bought a return ticket. It's not very expensive and it's much much shorter. Might take me through some other scenery as well!