среда, 24 октября 2007 г.

I Aistear dtreo Atha Clíath (I)

The night itself is still in lichtleerem deep sleep, as the humorless Quäken of Funkweckers me from gently rolling inexorably hurls dreams. Schlafkörnchen crumble from the corner of your eye when the eye reluctant to point Erna display crawls: 4:30 h. Much too soon, but at the right time. I Traumtrunken schlurfe coffee machine. Twice wake-up force is now needed. Müdigkeitsexorzismus accelerated in the bathroom of frischkaltem water. Ice fog dormant in the street canyons. Still dawning nothing. No breeze, hardly a sound. The city is frozen. The otherwise lively, well perfused traffic arteries reality empty, nearly orphaned.

Cheese sails into fine strips on the black bread slices than ride lunch. Mint tea steams from the thermos jug. The view wobbly around fritters are tired and planless beyond a goal. Gedankenverlorenes sip on coffee cups. The hot brew kleckert the sleepy throat down. The alarm beeps again. 5:30 h. Time, packed things to shoulder and through the sleeping town to the station to shuffle. A little more awake, the streets now. Club tents cars treideln yawning through the lanes. Your headlights stare pale, as if they Lider also like another two hours.

On the stairs to the platform stands C. and waiting. Barely awake than I, we shuffle them in the train. After some fares, we are still at the airport on time, learn that no 4U departure terminal but the indicator of German Wings is to learn that very few German service employees at the airport in Greek and speak up shortly before ten on board the Airbus A319 to Dublin. Quiet durchprickelt me the thrill of the unfamiliar with the start, but I fly only the third time in my life somewhere. Have to see it during the flight. A nearly tearing clouds carpet is among us. The Sehenswert Este seated in the row in front of us. A dignified old Mr. graying, with a wide Sensational Haargestrüpp, from the auricle hochwuchert lobule.

And so it is like a miracle in a grip bag, as a half hours later the plane into the ceiling feuchtweiße digs before the curtain opens and below us the Bay of Dublin. To see it from above so that the city of meandering walks Leopold Blooms, home of my great heroes like Joyce, O'Brien, Wilde and Beckett. Seeing and experiencing what you like to read and expansive. The deep blue sea curls. On Landarm of Howth crouches victories on the cold foaming surf to the coast. The green island, there is gray. The first tiny houses still grow per second, the fields and fields outside the town are of deep water-based mud überpfützt. Short breaks from the sun. The livestock on pastures casts shadow magnets. C.'s flight from his sleep and wakes up a little bit taken away.

The luggage flutscht heil to the rubber belt, we grab us a Aircoach in the city. C. is becoming paler, dopes, a small pack headache drugs in the small remainder of his water bottle. His face gleams like nurmehr diluted, shallow Kilkenny, the nose a touch of Cashel Blue cheese, the facial features fall into flabby collapses. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead suddenly, breathing is difficult. Hurrying from concerned glances from my eyes to him. Only after a few minutes lost in my brain: Huch, agrees yes, yes, we go now left. Among the clouds grauknittrigen towers to bolt the typical semi-detached houses gone, green Mailbox columns, colorful whitewashed wooden panels, the first floors of shops and pubs hug. But it is a rather zerrupfter charm, with us the Suburban landing.

In O'Connell-Street sets us from the bus and is on almost together to further our luggage nozzles. Fortunately, our veto successful. Dublin, here we are. And while I map the best way to browse Hostel, remains C. unfortunately no other choice than to quickly towards the sanitation of a large fast-food chain to hurry. The stomach worried. In calm pace, with considerate breaks, we stroll to our hostel. Already clear: The first part of the Dublin-Explorations I will be on a fist.

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