October 20, 2002 - page 2

Having safely and prayerfully arrived in Dublin, we were promptly warned no less than three times about muggers and thugs in our hostel’s neighborhood. This boded well for three yankee doodles with packs on their backs and crosshairs on their chests, all heading for the ATM at midnight. Perhaps fall break in Baghdad wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Having safely survived the first night in Ireland, we were treated to traditional Irish hospitality throughout the following day—that is, a complimentary shower from morning to night. Two days in Dublin allowed us the chance to visit Dean Swift’s old haunts in St. Patrick’s Cathedral; view the Book of Kells, an illuminated manuscript of the Gospels at Trinity College and arguably the finest piece of extant medieval art; and tour the Guinness Brewery and Museum, learning that the Guinness Book of World Records really was created to settle heated bar disputes over important topics, like who can read the Declaration of Independence longest while standing on one leg and juggling hamsters.

From Dublin we flew to Edinburgh, Scotland, perhaps my favorite city in the world. I have yet to discover a place that can best its mixture of history, beauty, and atmosphere. The rose-colored glasses with which I viewed the town, however, were lost along with my British railpass when it walked away—likely with some human help—in the train station at the end of my stay.