Searching for My Pot of Gold in Dublin

See the photo album!Dublin is a grey, lonely town. There, I said it.I know I speak blasphemy about a place so many love, but you won't get me to change my stance. At least not about the grey part.As for the lonely part, I don't know. Maybe it's that I had just left a nest of friends back in Germany. Maybe it was the pressure of yet another job interview. Maybe it was traveling alone while trying (and failing) to not think about Holly. Maybe it was the fact that no matter where you drink it, Guinness just isn't very good. Whatever it was, it sure got me lonely.I hadn't planned to visit Ireland on this trip, but the promise of a job interview persuaded me to alter my schedule. Despite my best intentions, I slummed it hostel-style, staying in Isaacs Hostel. I thought I was well beyond the point of sharing bunk beds with nine other snoring strangers. Turns out my wallet would beg to differ. Hostel life minimizes "alone-time," though does little to combat loneliness.The first morning, I jumped in a free city tour organized by the hostel. A passionate Irish lad gave a thorough history of the city while I peppered him with questions about daily life and hip, livable neighborhoods. He suggested I walk through the Liberties. I did. My initial impression of the city was little changed.The tour also gave me the opportunity to meet some of the fellow hostel dwellers. A mid-afternoon beer was shared with a group from Brazil, Italy, Taiwan, and England. Sadly, the sense of awe that would have accompanied such an experience a few years ago never surfaced.Stop.I sound all doom and gloom, which is certainly not something I want to project. I met some great people. The French couple in my room invited me to cook dinner with them one night. We gossiped over our roommates; who snored the loudest and was the other French couple actually having sex in the room the other day while I was trying to do laundry? The usual hostel shenanigans.There was also the Literary Pub Crawl! The English literature dork in me was in full effect as the tour quoted Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw in pubs throughout Dublin. "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." You know, the longer I was there, the more the town really started to grow on me.Throughout though, the specter of the job interview hung over me. Yes, a job. And the prospects were decent. It was the final interview for an online marketing position based in Dublin. Walking the streets in my crisp suit, I felt a strong case of nerves creep up. It's been a while since I got nervous interviewing. I took a deep breath, then smiled. It's not every day you get to interview in a different country.The interview was demanding, but it went well. Well, well enough. I didn't get the job, but that may not necessarily be a bad thing. The company has expressed interest in working with me in other capacities and in other locales. I'll keep you posted on what happens.So what did I learn from Ireland? I'm old. Well, not old yet, but very soon will be old. And I'm tired. I'm tired of picking up and moving and starting all over again. That and I thought a lot about my family. Let's face it, none of us are getting any younger. The older I get, the further away things appear.So Dublin wasn't for me. At least not at this stage. But I'm thankful for being given the opportunity to learn that.See the photo album!