Surely God is green or why else would He have made Ireland so beautiful with such brilliant and varied shades of green. Get out of Dublin town, with its Guiness Beer, pubs, and crowded streets; the poor, little Liffy River, lost between the tourist and Dubliners all hurrying to somewhere or the other. Walk Grafton Street and see Jame Joyce's statue, see the Book of Kell, and have a picnic in Stephen's Green, see Oscar Wilde upon the rock; walk the streets and see all the Georgian buildings with their painted doors; visit all the sights then get out of town to see the best of Ireland. Go to Dingle,first catch the train from Dublin to Tralee, then the bus over the mountains to Dingle and enjoy the green mountains and sparkling silver bays. Stay at a Bed and Breakfast; eat an Irish Breakfast, watch the tide come and go; catch a boat to the Blaskett Islands; watch the cold Atlantic waves crash and beat against the stubborn Irish coast; visit a different pub every night; drink too much beer; sing too many songs about lost love, leaving dear Old Ireland and your Irish mother; sing about the cruel British and the brave IRA; stumble back to your room swearing never to touch a drop of liquor again, then wait for the next night so you can do it all again. Then remembering the green hills and shadowed valleys, the checkerboad fields, and the ever-present rain, that makes the green of Ireland turn to shimmering emerald and search for your shamrock. Return home with a wee bit of Irish in your soul.
