Just to shake things up a bit today, Jon and I decided to walk around Dublin.

The weather was gray and overcast, and a little chill -- perfect for heading out for a stroll. When we walk we tend to set a pace that is perfect when you're late for an appointment. Since we eschew things like maps and GPS, we just go for a vague idea of where we want to be and set off. This morning we decided to try our hand at locating Glasnevin Cemetery to see the grave of Patrick Pearse and the heroes of the 1916 Uprising. After yesterday's journey, the estimated 2 miles to the cemetery seemed like a breeze.

We had our breakfast, did a quick stop at the room, and left the hotel. Normally, when we step outside, we turn to the left and head south on O'Connell Street. Today, against all habit, we headed north. About twenty minutes and several turns into the walk Jon asked if I had any idea of the route. Of course not, I told him. So we pushed on.

We hit the cemetery at about the right time as if we knew where we were going. We counted that as a win.

The cemetery was old. In some sections the stones had that melted appearance stone will get when left out in the elements. We walked the paths, Jon watching for any of the familiar names from the uprising, me for any tombstones with my name on them.

At one point Jon grabbed my arm and pointed. At first I couldn't figure out why he wanted me to see a man saying a graveside prayer. Then I noticed his companion and I was in love. We waited until he was finished before approaching him. He was friendly and happy to introduce us to his friend, a tall, gray Irish wolfhound named Keevah.

I didn't walk straight up to her. Wolfhounds may look fierce, but they are really just softies. She backed away and eyed me warily. I knelt down and held out my hand to her. Slowly, cautiously, Keevah leaned in and sniffed my hand. Her owner gave her a biscuit. She ate it and looked at me, as if to say, "That's how you win me over." Fortunately for me, the owner had a second biscuit.

I was allowed a few minutes with Keevah before they had to leave. I wanted to take a picture of her, or have Jon take one of me with Keevah. But that just seemed awkward to request so I watched her flounce away, taking just a bit of my heart with her.

By this time the cemetery museum had opened so we went inside for a coffee and scone. On the way back out to continue our search, Jon stopped by the desk. He asked the two young women if they could guide us to Patrick Pearse's grave. She started to describe her directions, pointing out toward the road. Jon and I looked at one another and he asked for clarification. "Isn't he here?" Jon asked.

"Oh no," we were told. "Patrick Pearse is at Arbour Hill Barracks." This is behind the National Museum of Ireland at Collins Barracks. We had been by there earlier in the week.

"It's like the harbour," Jon said philosophically. We almost made it there, and we almost made it to Pearse's grave. Now we have goals for the next trip to Dublin.

The sky was clearing as we headed back to the city center. Down O'Connell Street, up Grafton, and we made it to St. Stephen's Green. We've been there several times, but this time we had a goal of just walking the entire park, not just passing through. There are a lot of shaded pathways and flower gardens in the park. We took the time to walk slowly and sit and take in the beauty.

Jon also had read of a "hidden" garden called Iveagh Gardens, which is kind of behind St. Stephen's Green, off from Harcourt Road. This means the first two times we stayed in Dublin we were less than 100 yards from the entrance to the gardens when we were in the Jackson Court Hotel.

Iveagh Gardens was quite a gem. The pea gravel paths looped and swirled in and out of fir archways, plunging from sheltered shade into brilliant pools of sunlight. At the back is an incredible waterfall which is almost too loud to carry on a normal conversation when you're nearby. The park is designed such that when you're not in sight of the falls, you really can't hear them. That increases the magic of discovery when you come across it.

Dublin was crowded today with footie fans. The All-Ireland Football Championship was fought at Croke Park today. Interesting fact: the Charles Stewart Hotel is near Croke Park. Another interesting fact: Croke Park has a capacity of 82,300. Most of the ticketholders for today's match marched UP O'Connell Street when Jon and I were heading down to the city center. At the end our day, the match had ended with Donegal victorious. We were just finishing dinner as the first celebrants were making their way to the pubs of Temple Bar. The rest of the crowd (a few less than 82,300) were marching DOWN O'Connell Street as were heading back up to go to bed.

I now know how salmon feel.