Today's touring of Dubin (Sue was kind enough to give us a lift into town)included a quiet walk around some of the city parks (practically deserted this time of year). To warm up, we stopped at the National Art Gallery.

The evening back in Drogheda was pretty relaxing. We met Ray, Darren's roommate, and by the time we all decided to go for a drink, it was practially 11pm. We arrived within view of the nearest pub only to see its doors closing for the night, like its competitor across the street had already done. Undaunted but a bit cold, we tried down the street, and saw a group of guys being let in to one of the pubs after knocking. We tried this strategy, and were able to sneak in. Darren was promptly beeped to the hospital, but Ray say he would stay for "one pint". We managed to squeeze in three by the time they stopped serving, of course. Meanwhile, the table of ten or so people next to us had broken out into a series of Irish drinking songs. They were a bit surprised that we didn't know any of the words ("but surely you've heard this one: . . ."), well, Ray did, but as he said (quietly to me and Laura), they tended to sing different songs up in Northern Ireland (he is from Belfast). In any case, the crowd was super friendly at this packed little pub, and by the time we were all kicked out, we'd downed enough courage for the walk home.