The sun beams down on the dampened, staggered stone path. Shoppers, tourists, and
stray dogs trot up and down the sidewalks, looking at the glistening window displays of clothes, cheeses, bread, and brightly colored flowers. Smells of coffee and fresh baked loaves waft out of open doors into the streets. Murmurs from passersbys float to our ears, but heavy Irish accents mask a clear understanding of their idle chatter. One, two, three strays get in line. Tails wagging, mouths open, tongues lapping up the smell of sausage in the air- they await for a customer to open the doors to the butcher shop- O’Connell Victuallers Pork Shop, Est.D 1919. The statue in a red and white striped apron, his broad beer belly proudly jutted out, grins below his painted mustache as we follow the light foot traffic. His specialty is Bang Bang Chicken, apparently. As everyone mindlessly wanders by, I hope the dogs eat a hearty lunch.