June 30 –
July 13
DUBLIN
We booked
our flight from Madrid to Dublin with Ryan Air. It is a good
price, but we also have to pay $50 apiece for our backpacks since they're to big for a carry-on. As we wait, we
see dozens of people standing in line at their gate. We don’t understand this,
since we have assigned seats, and people are waiting for more than an hour
before boarding. We’re almost the last ones in, and then we see that the first
ninety or so carry-ons are guaranteed an overhead spot, but after the overheads are full,
your roller bag may have to be checked. As we board, we pass a great big pile
of the luggage that didn’t make it, hence the line-up at the gate. Not overly
efficient, perhaps. The flight is fine, no frills, no dry pretzels. The seats
don’t even recline. But all goes smoothly.
The name on our taxi driver license is "Patrick
O’Neill", so we know we've landed in the right country. The address of our apartment is Addison Park. “Is that all they give yas?” He
says, with indignant disbelief. “That’s it?” “Well,” says Bob, “it’s supposed
to be about half way between the airport and the city…”
“Oh, I know where it is,” He says - he’s a taxi driver, ya dope. “Oh, ok then…”
Addison Park is a very nice apartment complex,
a mix of loft-style buildings and rows of townhouses. The grounds are nicely
landscaped and well-groomed. There’s a view of Glasnevin Cemetery
in the hills behind the park. No one is waiting for us at the address. We nose
around for a few minutes, then Bob knocks at the house across the street where
Sinead’s (our host) sister lives. No answer. Finally a man comes out, on his
phone. He’s Sinead’s brother-in-law, and he’s calling her to come down from her
other sister’s, in another apartment in the park. He tells us she’s all upset
because her visa to the US
was cancelled at the last minute, just yesterday, as she was planning to leave
for a six week vacation, during which time she was renting out her flat. So
it’s a little awkward when she arrives to let us in. She’s going to stay with
her sister, but she’s still quite upset, although she’s very nice to us despite
her trouble.
It’s a
brilliant, sunny, breezy day. The air feels fresh and cool. Everyone is
remarking on how gorgeous the day is. So, it must not be like this very often…
We walk a
few blocks to the commercial corner, which has everything you’d like. There are
a couple of restaurants, pubs, a pharmacy, grocery, butcher, bank, hair salon,
bakery, hardware store, newsstand and take-out joint. Very convenient. It does,
however, take a very long time to get anything done because we spend twenty or
thirty minutes chatting at each stop. “You’re on holidays, are ye? Where’r ye
from? Ah, New York!
I’d love to visit meself! And how are ye finding Ireland? Do ye have people here?
Did ye bring this weather with ye?” And on, like so. It’s really nice, people
are genuinely friendly.
We have a
bus stop at our corner, so our plan is to have a nice long walk into the city,
then grab a bus home when we’re done for the day. It’s very pleasant to walk
through the neighborhoods, past the Botanical Gardens, a canal walk and rows of
brick townhouses.
The big
draw in Dublin City is Temple Bar, which is not a bar,
but a district of several blocks, pedestrian streets, packed with pubs and
restaurants and shops. Every pub is so inviting, charming, and historical, with
musicians in the pubs and on the streets. It’s true, you can hear “Wild Rover” five
or six times in an afternoon, but you have to accept a tourist district for
what it is.
We stop
in one very nice pub with a single guitar player going, and tell the bartender
we’re having our first Guinness in Ireland. He takes a few minutes to
pull the pints, and gives us a full lesson and he sets them down. “Don’t touch
‘em! Let it rest.” The bubbles froth up in the glass turning light brown to
deep black as the action subsides. “OK, now,” after a couple minutes, “Hold
your elbow high, DON”T SIP IT! Take a big drink, keep your eyes up, look to the
sky!” Boy, this is complicated…but exceedingly delicious. “You want to drink it
so you keep the head all the way to the bottom.” I swirl my glass around a
little. “DON’T DO THAT!” Ok, jeez. So we are fully schooled, and venture on to
practice our craft.
Jonathan
Swift is buried in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, our next site to visit. The grey
sandstone of Ireland
looks a little dreary at first. But the buildings have a somber stillness to
them that is also very beautiful. The church is solid and quietly decorated,
without the flamboyance of the Italian cathedrals.
We walk
on to an exhibit called Dublinia, a history of the early founding and medieval
years of the city. It’s designed for children, and there are several school
groups running through, but it’s very interesting and well-designed overall, so
we enjoy several hours going through the exhibits, learning of the Viking
settlers and the Irish kings. We finish off the day with a pint in Temple Bar,
listening to some familiar songs once more. The clueless crowd needs
instructions to clap along to the”No, Nae, Never” refrain, which really should
be stomping and pounding the table, not clapping.
We have
our walk into the city next day, and everyone seems to be dressed for November,
jackets and scarves and hats. IT’S JULY, PEOPLE. We make a visit to Dublin Castle,
in the center of the city. We learn more about the history of Irish
independence, and visit the state apartments which are elegant, but not
grandiose. There’s a very interesting exhibit of glass art by David Chihuly,
incorporating themes from James Joyce’s Ulysses in beautiful gold-flecked glass
cylinders. Walking back through the city streets, we come upon an operatic
flash mob, performing a strange arrangement in homage to smoking. “Suck it in
suck it in suck it in” goes the chorus. “Blow it out blow it out blow it out…”
We talk a
walk to try to see what goes on at the harbor, just on the outskirts of the
city. It turns out to be fairly inaccessible, with nothing to see on the
streets that lead to the ferry ports. We pass the very large O2 performance
center, and cross the river to a modern neighborhood of apartment buildings and
technology companies. Along the river Liffe, there’s an old brick warehouse where we
find a film installation, five screens telling the story of the working harbor.
Unexpected and interesting. We have our day’s pint at the Palace in Temple Bar,
advertising itself as yet another “oldest pub in Dublin.”
We are
dealing with a non-functioning shower at home, using a plastic cup to rinse
off. Sinead’s had a couple tries to fix it, and another plumber is coming
today. We take a long walk along the canal path, with several working locks,
although no one seems to do any boating here. We pass throngs of people heading
to a game at Croake
Park, the big stadium
here. There’s a huge issue going on concerning Garth Brooks, who has sold out
five nights of performances, but has only received licenses for three shows. He
insists on five or nothing, and everyone is in a dither fighting for or against
him, and trying to figure out who to blame. Big mess. But today, everyone has
their team shirts on and is piling into the stadium. We stop at a ticket office
and very nearly buy seats to what we think is a soccer game, but we decide instead to
continue our walk back to the harbor neighborhood to see the “U2 graffiti wall”. We end up at Sweetman’s brewpub for a pint, and find out we missed a
'hurling' game, not soccer, at the stadium. It’s being broadcast on the tv, and
the bartender explains that it’s an indigenous Irish sport, like lacrosse with
a flat bat instead of a net stick, and the players are not professionals, they
all have regular jobs. It’s quite a game.
Everyone
comes to Dublin
to see the Book of Kells, an illustrated manuscript from 800 A.D. It’s in an
exhibition hall at Trinity
College, another site on
our list, so it’s two for one! We manage to get into the room before a big tour
group, and enjoy the historical displays and the actual pages of the book. We
did see an outstanding collection of illuminated manuscripts in Bologna last year, but this
is a singular piece of art and history, worth the visit.
The Irish Museum
of Modern Art is in a former 17th Century Royal Hospital, with a
beautiful building and parklike grounds. The collection is interesting and
well-presented, there aren’t many familiar artists, so it’s cool to see the
work and learn a little more about Irish artists. Also, it’s just a few blocks
from the Guinness Brewery!
Actually,
the Guinness Brewery is so massive, it’s a few blocks from anything in Dublin. The former Arthur
Guinness family brewery is now owned by Diageo, the world’s largest producer of
spirits, Smirnoff, Jonnie Walker, Bailey’s and Hennessy among them. The tour is
a slick production through the history and process, not through the actual
brewery of course, but it’s still fun and informative. The collection of
advertising is our second favorite part, because the best is, of course, the
fresh pint at the 360-degree view tower bar, with all of Dublin and the Wicklow mountains as our
entertainment. We’ve learned that there are a number of breweries around the
world, but all the kegs come from this brewery in Dublin. The Guinness we have in Dublin tastes like
nothing else.
Next day,
we take a walk back along the river to the historic Kilmainham Gaol, built in
1796 as a step to reform the horrible dungeon conditions of incarceration at
the time. It was still pretty horrible, with men, women and children locked up
together. Architecturally, it’s actually very cool to walk through the
corridors and cell blocks. In 1916, the seven leaders of the rebellion for
Irish independence were brought here. Their executions made them martyrs to the
cause, and rekindled the efforts that led to the 1920 uprising, culminating in
the treaty that created an independent Irish nation from 26 of the 32 counties,
creating Northern Ireland
and an unending controversy.
Having
completed our Guinness tour, next on the agenda is the Jameson Distillery. The
buildings have been almost completely lost to urban renewal, but a portion of
the original complex is still visible on the tour. We learn about the process
and history, and the difference in making Jameson. The barley is roasted
without contact with smoke, while Scotch whisky is given various degrees of
smokiness in the making. We see the barrels for aging, brought from the sherry
bodegas in Spain
that we saw just months ago. The final tasting is again the best part of the
tour.
Back
home, Sinead’s dad stops by to apologize for the shower troubles, which are now fixed, and asks if
we’d like a discount on the apartment rental to make up for it. He’s really
nice, chatting with us, obviously concerned about Sinead and wanting to keep us
happy. We’re pretty sure Sinead doesn’t know he’s talking with us. We say, no thanks,
things happen, we’re fine, we’re not fussy people. “Oh, that’s grand,” he says.
“Some people are fussy, you know. The Germans,
now, they’re fussy.”
Our
apartment is just around the corner from the Botanical Gardens and Glasnevin Cemetery, a huge, historical national
cemetery. “It’s our Arlington,”
says one local, even thought it’s not a military cemetery. We make our visit on
a lovely, fresh summer day. The cemetery museum is ok, sort
of generic exhibits on burial customs and famous burials. The grounds, however,
are very interesting and parklike. We don’t take the tour, since we’re really not
familiar enough with the dead celebrities to appreciate it. We just walk
around, looking at the monuments and markers. Eventually, we make our way over
to a gate that leads into the Botanical Gardens.
The gardens are really lively, with different sections displaying types of
flowers or trees, and most everything is blooming at this time of year. There’s
a great Victorian glass greenhouse, ponds, rosebushes, and lots of people
walking around enjoying the place. A very relaxing Sunday for our last day in Dublin. When we get back
home, Sinead pops in to give us a bottle of Bailey’s to thanks us for being
such good guests and not freaking out over the shower.
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