Characters like Bang Bang, Johnny Forty Coats, Billy in a Bowl and Toucher Doyle added colour to a tapestry of unique distinctiveness, unlike anywhere else in the world. The quintessential Dub, with his blather, infused the City with an essential vibrancy absorbed in the bricks and mortar of the Coombe, the Liberties and daily life. Read novelist Roddy Doyle's books, for they capture the past and present perfectly. Most Dubs, previously poor in pocket, were rich in passion, culture and the oral tradition. Grafton Street, once the epitome of elegance, looks like every huckster alley in Hong Kong, Sydney or Singapore without the attendant benefit of a scenic harbour to offset the crass commercialism assailing the eye.
Souvenir shops proliferate.
Thankfully the traditional Bewleys coffee shop remains anchored in mid-stream, although it looks increasingly like an elderly matron at a Hard Rock concert every time I see it. A walk to Temple Bar, over the Liffey's Half-penny bridge will introduce you to more Young Turks cruising the district than you'd find in Istanbul. The new- found wealth, from a flush economy, allows them to drive Jags and pump the bars and nightclubs of the area. There's also the National Art Gallery, Stephens Green, the Pheonix Park, and pubs, pubs, pubs. Walk across O'Connell Bridge, and haggle with the hawkers of Moore Street and lunch in old-world splendour at the Gresham Hotel.