Day 19 - My abode for a week

Lower Gardiner St is my destination after hopping off the airport bus. Aren't these airport buses and trains convenient. London's is of course the best, costing less than three pounds. Sydney's? Daylight robbery at $15.

As I make my way to Lower Gardiner St the road side becomes increasingly strewn with rubbish, the pavements covered in fresh spittle; the gait of the pedestrians is tough. They're all walking with homey purpose, wearing trackies or hoodies like apprentice gangsters. This doesn't look promising. I can't find my guesthouse either. In fact, there is no sign of a guesthouse at the number I'm seeking. Next door there is. I try there and am greeted by a friendly middle aged man who proclaims he owns both guesthouses, the once nextdoor being without signage. However as there are problems with the shower in the room I was to originally stay, I am given a small upgrade.

South of the Liffy it's a bit cleaner

 I have a few difficulties piercing his Irish accent and at one point show him my hearing aids and ask him to speak up. He admits he's also got a hearing loss and needs aids - he says his loss is about 75% but he must be exaggerating a little. Either that or he's an expert lip reader.
"Are you lip reading?" I ask him.
He leans forward. "What?"

The furnishings inside are markedly different from the scrappy street below my window. Opposite is a church, classical style with five pillars, Mary atop the pediment. Every second person who passes the church crosses themselves.