I'm trying really hard not to be biased against Dublin but I just can't help it. Maybe it's because I'm always here at the wrong time but the atmosphere just doesn't sit with me. It's the tinge of homesickness mixed with the drab buildings and eerie weather that make me feel ill at ease. A strong warm wind whips through the dirty dark streets and sprays dust and pollution into my eyes. I feel ready to go home.
At least I've made some friends at Ashfield House though. My french friend, Alizée and I took off to the town of Bray for thee day. But even this sunny beach town just lacks the spirit I long for. Alizée and I make the best of it though, I speak French to her and she responds in English, we sit on the beach and practice our speech. After lunch we hike up a cliff and get to a strange marker, a giant cross overlooking the black ocean that gapes at us with its mouth wide open. The wind is so strong I feel as though we will be pushed into the deepness but we cling to the rocks and make our way down to have ice-cream on the beach. Even the ice-cream tastes bad to me. It's tasteless and greasy, I miss those Parisian Berthillions!
When we get back to the hostel, I'm reminded it's the 4th of July. Here it's just any other day.
It's not that late yet but I don't really feel like gong out so I go upstairs to read and end up talking with my Brazilian roommate. She speaks Span-tuguese and I speak Spanish with a Brazilian accent. We understand each other perfectly. She tells me she also lived in Norway. My French roommate is doing WOOFing. I guess there are some similarities after all!
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