It's always hard to sleep when you know you have to get up early. I am sad to check out of this lovely hotel - it's been my little haven for the last five days and it is so clean, calm and peaceful. I have to leave before dawn but at least this time my taxi driver is kind and polite. It's a long drive back to the airport. I have mentally moved on from speaking French and I am too tired to think of the words anyway; I decide on a muffin and a smoothie for breakfast and I order in English. 

At departures I meet a nice lady called Lisa from Boston. She is also travelling by herself and she is on the same flight to Dublin as I will be on. I am surprised to find it's difficult to speak English normally and my voice sounds strange because I've become used to speaking and thinking in French.

The flight to Dublin only takes an hour and twenty minutes. We fly over England; it's a clear day and just as I'd imagined, the ground is like a colorful patchwork quilt. Coming into Dublin Airport reminds me of home. It's so green and there is a very cold wind blowing. Could be Hamilton, but the hills in the distance are very low and flat-topped. Coming through the city on the Aircoach also feels familiar - it could be Auckland except for the red brick buildings close together lining the sides of the streets.

At the hotel, I am greeted by a very nice lady called Mary. My room is on the third floor, up six flights of creaky wooden stars. When i get to my room I realise I am wearing an orange cardigan and an orange scarf - this may be culturally inappropriate in Dublin. In the old days I could be making myself a target for the Sinn Fein! I think it's best to change just in case. 

My room overlooks a busy street but it's not too bad and has a nice bathroom, and I am happy to have a bit of solitude again. I'd really rather be heading home as I'm really missing Chris and the family, but it's important that I'm here to do some networking with the people from UCD. And while I'm here I might as well have an adventure.

St Stephen's Green is very close by and it really is lovely. The grass is so soft and very, very green, and the flower beds are beautifully maintained. But beyond that, I discover Dublin is like any other city, and I am over cities right now. There is nothing really unique or interesting to commend it like Paris has, or at least not that I have seen today. In fact it is just like being in the middle of Wellington, and everywhere, everywhere cigarette smoke. I miss out on seeing the Book of Kells in Trinity College by forty minutes. To top it all off I manage to get lost again, despite having a decent map. I don't know how I manage it, honestly. I walk around the periphery of what I think is St Stephen's Green for about an hour, looking for the right road leading off it, before I eventually realise I am actually walking around Merrion Square and not St Stephen's Green. 

I've heard the Cobblestone is the place to go to hear a really good trad session, but it's a fair way and the taxi costs me fifteen euros. True, the music is great but there is a very talkative man next to me and he is telling me all about the economic situation in Ireland and his nephew who went to New Zealand, and his problems with the city council and the government, breathing Guinness all over me whenever he says something. Also it's down a side street and I don't feel too safe, so after listening to a few more sets I decide to take a taxi back to my accommodation. I think Mr Guinness can make himself useful so I ask him to come outside to make sure I can get in a taxi safely, which he obligingly does, and I'm happy to get back to the guesthouse. I'm so much happier when the music is at festivals rather than pubs, but in Ireland there's not a lot of choice because even the festivals are held in pubs! The country is economically depressed but everyone still seems to have money for beer.

Tomorrow is my last full day before I head home and I can't wait to be surrounded by familiar things and people who love me.