Welcome to Dublin–capital city of Guinness, poets, writers, world-class buskers and cathedrals with crypts for hire–catering to weddings, funerals and brawls of all denominations. If you love Samuel Beckett, Oscar Wilde, bullet-riddled buildings from the 1916 Easter Rising and general Craic, you’ll relocate to this city in a heartbeat. Highly recommended for insomniacs, Dublin districts 1 to 8 (and possibly beyond) are alive and kicking  from 6 a.m. to 6 a.m. with thousands of young and old spilling in and out of the most architecturally unique bars, pubs, clubs and civic buildings I have ever encountered. But don’t assume they are drunk. Dubliners are fueled by sheer energy, adventure and a desire to seize the day. To witness this whirlwind of creative energy is  humbling, intoxicating and compelling enough to make one want to relocate regardless of the economy.

Samuel Johnson once professed that “the full tide of human existence is at Charing Cross”. I say it’s on Grafton Street. Where else would one find fiddlers, DJs and mummified remains under the same roof?!

As wonderful as it all sounds, my first 48hrs were spent sipping therapeutic pints of Vitamin G while painfully negotiating local smart phone devices and the ubiquitously nonsensical traffic lights. I had little moments of victory once I acquired the coveted “Leap” card–a nifty little device that lets you hop on any tram, bus or train at the mere scan of a card on any old street you land on. The trick, of course, is to avoid getting hit by a car, bicycle or fellow pedestrian once disembarking.

Day 3 started badly as well, with all Dublin cell phones (including mine) receiving random aps, roaming charges from Belfast and text messages intended for an array of Liams, Siobhans and Sineads. Has the fighting between the Republic and the North not ended?

Miraculously, I finally managed to connect with my dinner companion, John, a chain-smoking Dublin author and dead ringer for actor Hugh Laurie, who claimed to be anti-religious, but is about to have his third book on biblical interpretations and prophesies published by a world class scholarly publishing house based in New York. Two hours of religious instruction over whiskey-infused chowder in a psychedelic cathedral-night club was fascinating, but I would be lying if I said it did not exacerbate my jet-lag.

What will tomorrow bring? One never knows in this city. But one thing’s for sure: I’ll be killing that smart phone and using the few remaining Telecom Eireann phone boxes from now on.