Picture taken from
I don’t remember what exactly I talked with the taxi driver who took me from the airport to St. James Hospital, or Dublin 8 to be more specific. I was so focused on the road, watching how the landscape was changing until the first buildings and houses emerged.
But from time to time I’m sure we spoke about some Irish facts: whisky, St. Patrick’s Day, the traffic in Dublin and, obviously, beer. He was a man of few words; and I was really tired from my flight.
I gave him the first of 100 bracelets I carried on with me, all of them with designs similar that Maya people use in Guatemala on their clothes. I offered one to almost every person I met in my trip.