Last I remember, before yesterday's entry I was in Dublin - at least as far as the blog is concerned. So, after settling in to the guest house, which did not resemble the website in the least, I walked in to the City Centre and found a bus over to the Guinness plant for a tour. They've converted one of their old buildings into a museum and conference centre. So the tour is actually just a history of the Guinness company and it's stout. It's not too bad, and the section on the coopers was pretty good. To be honest, i was hoping to watch them actually make the stuff. But since you can't watch Kellogg's make corn flakes anymore, I guess these guys want to keep their industrial secrets to themselves, too.

Luckily, you get a token for a free pint at the panoramic bar on the top floor when you're done, but unluckily the son of the current chairman was having a birthday party, so that bar and almost the entire rest of the building was closing down. We had to satisfy ourselves with one of the bars on the lower floors. But the Guinness tasted just as good. I had never noticed before this tour one of the small details involved in training bartenders to draw a Guinness (you have to be trained by a company rep before they let you sell the beer). After the initial "pull,' where they fill the glass about 3/4 full, then let the head form and the beer clear, they push the tap forward, which delivers the last 1/4 (the "finish") much more slowly and doesn't foam. But the little detail I hadn't picked up was that the server is supposed to manouevre the glass so that the last of the "finish" makes a shamrock design in the head! Cool.

After that I went back to the hotel and out again to "101 Talbot" for dinner. It's a mighty trendy place. I didn't have a reservation but they were able to squeeze me in. I think the fact I was wearing a black shirt and black jacket made all the difference. I don't think there was anyone in the place wearing anything but black, white, or a very muted earth tone. The food was great. I had grilled chicken stuffed with gruyere cheese and green onion in a mustard sauce, with snap peas and carrots. Yummy.

On Sunday I learned a basic axiom about Dublin: anywhere you want to go is farther than you want to walk, but it's still faster than waiting for the bus (Shannon concurs). So after paying for a full day on the buses, I walked most of the time. I went to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells, to the National Museum, to Clannad Records, to the Customs House, and the Post Office. Well, the Post Office is in the centre of town, so that's not a big achievement. I also walked down the pedestrian market streets, like Henry and Earl. Later in the evening I went back over to St. Stephen's Square to look at the decorations along Grafton Street, too. Then I hoofed back to the centre one more time and had fish and chips at Beshoff's, which Fodor's recommended. It was tasty enough, but the fish was a bit cold and the chips rather limp. Not what I expected from a place listed in the tourist guides. Whatever.

The day was one of noticeable (to me) coincidences. When I got to look at the Book of Kells, the parargraph I started to read began with one of the big, fancy, illustrated intital letters - a 'Q." Fancy that. When I looked at an ogham stone in the museum, the first word on the stone began with - yup - a 'Q.' And did you know that in Ogham a Q is represented by 5 horizontal lines? The last coincidence of the day (no Q's involved, except me) was whilst walking past the Post Office - not once, but twice, and many hours apart - my iPod was blasting U2's "Sunday, Bloody Sunday." I couldn't make that up if I wanted.

And my best estimate is that in just a day and a half in Dublin I walked between 8 and 10 miles. And I wish I was making that up.

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I attended the "Presentation" ceremony on Wednesday. They don't call it Graduation and they don't hand out diplomas. Not even a faux diploma or empty folder. Like everything else around here, they'll take about 15 years to make sure the grades are correct, the bills are paid, and you've made a substantial donation to the alumni fund. Then they'll mail your diploma.

I got to wear a cool gown - it drapes over the shoulders and is open in the front. More like a cape than a gown. I also had a hood that draped around my neck and down the back. Masters of Science get black trimmed in gold, with the inside of the hood gold, too. The sleeves have a cut-out at the elbow that you stick your arms through, but then they continue down to your knees. We had mortar boards (just "hats" here), but weren't allowed to wear them on the stage. You could carry it or leave it on your seat, which most of us did. The PhD candidates had to wear those embarassing Henry VIII floppy hat-things.

The ceremony was pretty standard. The procession of the board and faculty - the official staff is just a 4-foot dowel with a 3-inch square LSE Badge on the top. Not very impressive. No lions, no globe, no dragons. Nuthin. The keynote was actually pretty good. It was a reminder that even though the LSE may have finally accepted Keynesian economics, it still had it's roots in Social Liberalism. The speaker talked about the importance of the location of the school, which is situated right next to the Royal Courts, Fleet Street, Parliament, the Thames, and also the Strand, where the homeless gather in doorways every night, and the hot meal cart goes every night to make sure they're fed. And did you know that more than 30 heads of state/government have attended the LSE? Neither did I.

And the giant screen TV behind the stage was kinda nifty. I wanted to yell "Freebird!"

There was a reception afterwards in the Hong Kong Theatre. I know that means nothing to you, but I've always liked the name. We took pictures, talked to professors, and drank mimosas. The faculty was impressed with the size of the group - about 40 of the 65 or so members attended. Keep in mind that only about 8 or 10 are from the UK. It was a lot of fun seeing everyone again - at least those who made it, John. And not that he ever reads this, but that goes for you, too, Pranav. It was also nice to meet people's families, except maybe the parents who were younger than me. I'm glad I came. It was worth the effort.

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After arriving Thursday in Shannon, I drove up to Mohr and finally got to see the cliffs. The parking lot is a lot smaller than I remembered. It's not more than 30 paces from the car to the Visitor Centre. Which makes not being able to see it through the fog on my last visit all the more impressive - and reinforces not going to the cliffs as that much smarter. But this day the skies were cloudy, not the ground. The view was incredible, and so was the wind. It was a steady 40 miles and hour with even bigger gusts. Luckily, it was off the ocean, so there was little fear of getting blown off the side. It did make it harder to get to the edge though. While I didn't crawl out to the edge on my belly, as others are wont to do, I did walk close enough to peer over. The "official" paths have large flagstones on end to form fences, but it's both simple and popular to climb over/through and walk down to the large ledge (this is where so many lay flat and stick their heads over the side). The wet grass and slippery mud can cause you to walk like a little old lady for fear of sliding completely off.

After I was sufficiently wind-burned, I hopped back in the car and drove up the coast to Galway, through the Burren. Even though it's rather bleak and forbidding, I still love the area. If loving a bleak area doesn't prove my Irish bona fides I don't know what will. I walked through the pedestrian market at Spanish Arch looking for a decent dinner. I ended up at this tiny family Irish restaurant, where I got my self a bowl of vegetable soup. This is still the best soup I have ever tasted. None of that watery beef broth with lima beans and celery, thank you very much. Thick, hearty, potato-ey... Now that's good eatin'!

On Friday I got back in the car and drove through the west until I got to the monastery Clonmacnoise, which is just south of Athlone, and is the mid-point of the road between Galway and Dublin. While the grounds are smaller than I expected, it's right on the flood plain of the Shannon, but high enough up to be relatively safe from harm. The minute I stepped from the visitor centre onto the grounds it was incredibly green and peaceful. You could hear the river gently burbling and a few birds singing, and the rest was just quiet. That alone was worth the trip. I could have sat there for hours just reading and been very happy.

I thought about trying to get to the famine museum as well, but it was a little further than I wanted to drive, so I just headed to the B&B in Mullingar. This was a beautiful house, with a separate wing with two rooms - obviously added for handicapped visitors, so it had a separate entrance and very large rooms, and a huge bathroom. Ah, the bath. Something I've never seen before: a shower with a glass "dutch door." I'm not exactly sure why anyone thought of this, unless it's something to do with the handicapped access. And even then, I'm stumped. I'm so stumped I can't even figure out a clever remark on how it might be used. I had great chicken that night in the "Druid's Chair" in-town.

Friday I drove to Dublin. Not a lot between Mullingar and Dublin, at least off the main road. I got to town right on time to return the rental car. And it would have been simple if there was a map from Hertz showing where the office was, or if it was just close enough to City Centre to appear on the tourist maps. I went to South Circular road, but Hertz was nowhere to be found. I was ready to double back when I pulled up next to a cab. I asked him, and he said I was in the wrong place, but offered to lead me to the correct street. It was only a few blocks away, and he pointed me across the canal. I followed his directions, and found myself at the Dan Ryan rental, which is where I returned the car the last time in Dublin. Too bad Dan Ryan is now Ryan Enterprises, which now operates solely as Hertz in Ireland. Needless to say, the office no longer exists. I drove around again, in case I missed Hertz. Except that it's not very easy to just turn around and retrace your steps in Dublin. The number of intersections that prohibit both left and right turns is unbelievable. After two tries and nearly 45 minutes later I stopped at the Hotel Burlington down the street from the former Dan Ryan's. The concierge showed me on his map that South Circular went further west than shown on my map. It was a block past the "start" of South Circular on my map. It was about a mile or so away, and it took me another 20 minutes to manouever my way through the streets to get there (including a couple of illegal turns).

I went to catch the bus, but ended up walking back to the hotel instead. Only later did I find out that it was more than 2 miles away. But it was a nice walk. Ignorance is bliss. Yes, I'm a very happy person.

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I arrived in Ireland on Thursday with little problem. British Air was only an hour later from Manchester to Shannon, but for them, that's probably better than average. If you get the chance, NEVER fly through Manchester. The Airport has the worst layout I've ever seen. I had to go from Terminal 2 to Terminal 3, and it was a 20 minute walk. Then, the waiting area was split into smoking and non-smoking. This meant it was entirely filled with cigarette smoke. Then they posted the flight at gate 3B. I walked almost all the way to the gate when the called it on the PA for gate 48. Which was about as far in the other direction as you'd expect.

But I got here. I got to the Cliffs of Mohr (and you could actually see them, this time), I got to Galway, I got to Clanmacnoise, I toured Guiness, and I'm in a Dublin internet cafe. I've had great food - I got my bowl of vegetable soup first thing in Galway. I'll fill in the details tomorrow or Monday.

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