Day Twelve: Ireland

Bron Sez: NOW! If I knew we were coming here I wouldnt have thrown away my duffell so quickly! I had to dig it out of the airport bins... the amount of pairs of scissors and bottles of water that were all over it... and this weird white powder that made all my problems go away for a little while... hmm
Jill and I made friends again on the flight over, which is good. Plus she still had a load of money from New York so she gave me some of that, which helped matters.
Today we saw the Liffey, lots of Irish people, I ate some soda bread, Jill ate some shamrock, and we had a generally just good time.
There was a weird moment where Jill went up to a 'little person' and asked where the pot of gold was or something. I must say, he didn't look impressed. He directed her to his pocket and told her to look around in there for some gold. After about 5 minutes, and some interesting facial expressions, Jill gave up and told me it was a complete con. Ah well. Ah to be gone for sure, siantcha (sp)

Jill Sez: Ah, my own, beloved Ireland. Land of green hills and red-haired people. I would fit in so well if only I were 7 inches shorter. That guy was totally a Leprechaun, Bron! I didn't find any gold but he did give me 6 Euro. Which is like... $700 US dollars, he said. I think he said that.
Besides some lovely shamrock I also had pistachio ice cream and some Guinness. Then I got into a fight. Or two. I forget. Guinness is awesome. I totally just had some. For reals, y'all.
I'm glad Bron is my friend again. The world is so empty without her. Soooo empteeeeeee.... Sigh.
Oh, here comes that handsome barkeep again. I'm'a have me 'nother Guinness.
So, like, the guys here are so nice! I haven't had to pay for any of my drinks because these really sweet old men keep buying them for me. Aw. So much nicer than Americans, that's for sure.
Well, some Americans anyway. Not, like, all Americans - just the crappy ones.
I want some, like, corned beef or something.
Aw, man - now some gobshite at the bar is mouthing off about tourists. He'd better not be talking about Bron and me.
Oh he is.
Now he's going on about big American cars. Sucka better not make this personal.
Oooh, he just did.
Dang. I gotta go open me a can of whoop-ass on him now.
Y'all take care. I gotta go beat someone up.