The City Tugs At Me

Dublin in my head is two cities. During the day, the old brick and metal buildings seem harsh and dirty against the autumn sun. There is smoke and rot and wetness and unfamiliar smells. Dublin in the daytime seems ugly to me. Yet somehow the air smells pure and everything is real. This city is solidly real, with no pretensions or social facades, it is what it is.

At night, Dublin transforms into something dark and cluttered but somehow warm and welcoming. The lights soften the buildings and there's comfort in the air. And yes, you hear music in the pubs.

The people are like the city, rough around the edges and a bit … unglamorous, but REAL and warm and so very welcoming. Everyone is friendly and the cab drivers tell you jokes featuring their wives and insist you take your time getting out of their taxi.

Ireland is a country of musicians and writers and I see why, albeit in my limited experience staying only within the confines of its largest and capital city. Dublin is filled with stories and walking the streets inspires me because this really is a city out of some novel, romantic and tragic, its people reflecting their centuries of hopes and struggles and simple joys. Yes, I'm sounding cliché, but I can't think of any other way to describe it. I look forward to a future visit, but this time to its hills and villages. Just to see. And to fall in love some more.

This is so refreshing, having lived in Los Angeles for almost 13 years. The two cities are so vastly different, though both the stuff of legends. I am intrigued by Dublin. I too, am compelled to write novels.