Easter in Dublin

Easter time, if it comes late, is always filled with sunshine and flowers in Dublin. Somehow the city shines.

Often called "Dirty Dublin" (many claim that this is a reference to the black stone with which many of the city walls are built) it still manages to be a city that I like more than Paris, as time goes on.
Somehow the overwhelming architecture of Paris and the now highly unpleasant Metro have ensured that I seek out a more intimate city experience. Melbourne looks like a large town in comparison. Rome has not been overtaken by wild excesses like Mitterand's fantasy, a tower that reaches up beyond the clouds. London, although rugged and demanding on the sightseer has the Thames and I think that another trip to Kew by boat might be an idea.

But best of all is Dublin, my home town...