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Since I was a kid I have been writing stories. Narratives about fictional characters in made-ups worlds, within the infinite realm of my fantasies. Now I write about my real life adventures, about the results of my yearning to see as much of the world as I can possibly combine with a career and regularly seeing friends and family. These stories are primarily a recollection of my own memories, as I am keen to preserve as many details of my foreign adventures as possible, lest the images I try to recall years later inevitably become blurred. As a positive externality, the result may be a pleasant read for the interested outsider. I hope you will enjoy my blog.

Tony Grifone

Thursday, 21 March 2013

Cats and dogs and the like


We live in Dublin 6. Dublin 2 is the area north of us bordering the river and the splotch above the river goes by Dublin 1. Dublin 4 isn’t far off and adding those up is pretty much where your day to day life takes place; walking from our home to Dublin 1 is half an hour of sturdy strides and we’re in an area where the average tourist doesn’t even venture into, that small the actual city centre is. Now you see, Dublin counts about 1.3 million inhabitants. And as the Irish generally don’t seem to build houses more than three stories high you wouldn’t get those 1.3 mln squeezed into an area that could easily be covered on foot. Today I found out where at least a decent portion of those other people live. The girl and I were to pick up our freshyly ordered bikes in Dublin 24.

The taxi ride there already took close to half an hour –with roads not even too congested after rush hour- and no way would we have found that Halfords unit on our own with the dismal bus system they have in place here. With howling winds, slashing rain that felt like hail stones thundering down, and the night already ink black we were happy to cross the parking lot, dodging puddles on the way, reaching the safe haven of the huge Halfords store. We got our bikes, paid loads of money to the only guy working there in that huge store empty of people, and ventured off into the night, with little idea how to get home.

* Salesman: “Just follow that road and you’ll head back into the city eventually.”
* Us: “The road we took with the taxi? Can you do that by bike?”
* Salesman: “That guy says you can.” (pointing vaguely to a distant figure in the store below the Harfords unit)

The reason for us trying to verify whether we could take that route by bike wasn’t idle as about 20 minutes later we were ploughing our way strenuously through everything that Mother Nature threw at us, on a road that resembled a highway all too well, with cars zooming past us and covering our already soaked outfits with another spray of mud and water.

You may think now; poor Bo, poor Tony, such weather, such hardship, such pain! Such agony! Well, I loved it! We had just bought two awesome bikes, we were cycling in a new area of Dublin that we had never been to before, defying the Irish weather… with the water dripping from my face I was smiling broadly and enjoying tremendously. I was beginning to feel at home and starting to acquire the means to do so! And although I may be a little strange for acting as such, when I stopped occasionally to see how well Bo was catching up, her face was beaming with joy as well, soaking wet and covered in filth. She rivals my optimism and resilience all too well and particularly in those circumstances that becomes all too evident. I couldn’t count myself luckier :)

And the bikes, they were well worth it! Never have I ever owned a brand new bike. Never. I have had bikes that looked new, brushed up well with previous owners looking having looked after it decently enough, but never have I owned a bike with no one else ever having used it before. This is new, and it’s great. I baptised mine James, a fit name for such a slick hero, and Bo’s bike’s called Mary. I bought a lock for money I wouldn’t buy a bike in the Netherlands for, and seek to have it insured soon enough as well. James, what a champ, he makes me feel even more at home. 



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