ceebeegee | Entries tagged with dublin

When I got back to the hostel I was exhausted--protests, Book of Kells, shopping, it all takes its toll--so I napped a bit before braving the TEPIDTEPIDTEPID shower again preparatory to going out.

This is me playing with the self-timer before going out, this time SOLO, OMG!

I poked my head into a couple of pubs and ended up at one not too far from the hostel. It was quieter than the one I'd been to the night before but they had live music as well. I just sat at the bar and sipped my Guinness, chatting with the locals who were mostly older. One older guy glommed onto me--this was sort of annoying actually. He was nice at first, we were chatting and then I noticed he kept trying to correct me during the course of our conversation. Things like--him: "You know Bob Dylan, right." Me: "Sure." Him: "NO. You don't really know Bob Dylan..." Me: "..." This happened several times--I would make some polite response to whatever conversation gambit he extended and then he would correct me. He also did that annoying-guy thing where they sense that perhaps you're not as thrilled with their company as they would like (I was getting a little tired of being corrected) and instead of, I don't know, being better company, they try to make you feel bad. The thing that annoyed me the most was when he tried to ruin the footage I was taking--I had my camera and was filming the singer/guitarist and he slurred "you really need to listen to this" and then waved his hand in front of the camera to try to ruin the footage. This...did indeed get on my nerves.

However, everyone else there was very nice. I met a young couple--the girl was named Fiona, and I can't remember the guy's name. When I told her my name, she said "that's a very Irish name!" When the bar closed we discovered it had been snowing for quite some time! There were several inches on the ground--snow is fairly unusual in Dublin, and I got to explain to them that "this is really good snow! Not too powdery, not too wet, this is the best for snowballs and making snowmen." And naturally I got in a snowball fight with random Dubliners! One guy with whom I was trading missiles said (after hearing me speak) "oooh, she's not from arrround herrre!" SO MUCH FUN. Really, just a delightful last night. On my way back to the hostel, I helped build a snowman.

I have no idea why the flakes appear to be going up in this--this was me collaborating with another random Dubliner. I can't remember exactly what we were trying to recreate though, but there was some reason he was throwing it up in the air.

Isn't it gorgeous?

The last day was--well, the last day. I left the hostel and dragged my luggage through the snow with me. Breakfast was YUM. Did a little last minute shopping and grabbed the Airlink (bus to the airport), did NOT miss my flight :)

Oh Ireland. Thank you for opening your arms to me. I will be back.

So Day 3 I had a full-ish day planned. I was going to a matinee at the Abbey Theatre at 2:00, but before that I was going to swing by Trinity College to see the Book of Kells and then either right before or after the Abbey, was going to try again to do the Guinness tour. It did not happen exactly like this, however ;) I left the hostel and found a place to grab a quick bite of something Irish and breakfast-y (coffee and soda bread--well, coffee is MODERN Irish, tea would've been more traditional but apparently coffee has been quite a hit there in the past few years). Left the breakfast place and within a block got caught up--quite literally--in a massive protest.

Hundreds--thousands--of Dubliners angry about the austerity cuts were descending on the General Post Office (GPO) to protest the cuts. I was rather quickly surrounded by them, including some very nice Irishmen who answered all my questions and were not only very well-informed about their own politics but had some thoughtful comments about American politics as well. One younger guy was telling me what I should tell Obama (I'm all "uh, sure"), that "he needs to use his position as President to push his platform more..." I started to utter a phrase to sum up what he meant, a quintessentially American phrase--and then HE said it, "he needs to make use of the bully pulpit." I was truly impressed that he knew that phrase--furthermore, I agreed with what he was saying! We had a chat about American politics and what was happening right in front of us (lots of slogans and placards, different speakers speaking). What makes this especially interesting is that the GPO is a powerful symbol of Irish history--the Easter Rising in 1916 took place there. Lots of parallels between past and present history--their economic collapse is also due to a property bubble.

Erin Go Bragh!

After this energizing experience, I extricated myself from the crowd and made my way to the Abbey. This is THE face of theater in Ireland, a legend--YEATS premiered a play there, for God's sake! I saw fascinating play called Freefall--interestingly they didn't have programs (I think that's a British thing) so I bought one which turned out to be the script. It was actually pretty confusing, so this helped quite a bit.

Right after the play I made my way as quickly as I could over to Trinity College to see my Must See for Dublin--the Book of Kells. This is an old, incredibly beautiful illuminated manuscript from the Dark Ages, created by Irish monks and preserved from the ravages of the Vikings. They had a terrific exhibit on it that explicated so much, including breaking breaking down exactly what they went through to produce a book at that time (obviously copied by hand, on calf vellum--they have it worked out to four anonymous scribed, by their handwriting). I was staring at the book, and thinking 12 hundred years ago this was written by some anonymous person--his hand touched these pages, his hand created this script. Whatever he was feeling or experiencing may have affected why this letter was written with this flourish, or why there was a mistake on that word. And before THAT--a calf was raised that would ultimately give its life for this page in this book. A farmer raised that calf, fed it, took care of it--if it had been fed differently, the page might've looked a different color.

I would've loved to have taken pictures but it wasn't allowed, understandably so. While I was in the exhibit I could hear, not-so-faintly, in the entrance area (in the Library bookstore) some American girl going on and on about "I just--this is my LIFE, my HERITAGE, don't you understand? My family...." and on in this vein. which--well, made me cringe. Look, I get that visiting Ireland is a moving experience but can you keep it down? This is a museum; we're all trying to take in this incredible thing in front of us.

Upon exiting from the Book exhibit, you then go through the Old Library Long Room--it's a long hall, which included an exhibit on the 1641 Depositions. As I was bending over to read the placards, I could hear American Girl again--she'd also gone through the Kells exhibit and now she was talking, loudly, with her boyfriend and some woman who obviously worked there and who therefore should've known better. American Girl was telling the woman, loudly, about her background and her Irish grandmother and red hair in her family and how her boyfriend (she called him a "ginger") and she were going to have red-haired kids and I don't know what all. She was LOUD. Oddly for all her talk about how Irish she was, she didn't look it at all--dark-complected with curly dark hair. Intensely annoying as this was, it gets worse--she pulled out a camera and took a picture. A museum worker, a man, BOLTED up the stairs and told her "I said NO PICTURES. You said you didn't have any more shots left." She said something and started to go exit down the stairs with BF and then, incredibly, took ANOTHER picture. Someone yelled up something from below stairs and she said airily "Sorry, thanks you guys, luv ya."

I felt very stabby. Like, it's not just that you're embarrassing me as a fellow American, it's not just that you're loud and rude and inappropriate. You're also ENDANGERING THESE TEXTS. They're old, and incredibly fragile. You want a picture? BUY A POSTCARD. Unbelievable.

After this I really--sadly--had no time for the Guinness tour. *Sadface* So I figured I'd go shopping--luckily Grafton Street (major shopping section) was very close by, so I made my way through there. I hit a Marks and Spencer (Christmas gifts for my Mom) and a couple of other shops, and found an adorable boutique where I put together a cute lil' twinset and had a lovely, long conversation with the two girls. It's always so interesting to get an insider's view--they think Dublin is small, that "everybody knows everybody." And when I told them about the Book of Kells they were all "Oh, I haven't seen that since the third grade." I recommended a few places in NYC for them to shop the next time they're here.

I walked back over the bridge to the hostel and got this lovely shot.

~~The Evening!~~

So as I trudged back to the hostel, I decided to stop by the Tesco (local gorcery chain) to get something to eat in my room, and maybe some British Candy for my Mom (we luuuuurve English and Scottish and Irish food--they do candy especially well). In the store I ran into someone who said hi--she was a Dutch girl staying at the same hostel, very sweet. We chatted a bit and I said "hey, I was thinking of going to a pub that has traditional music, do you want to come along?" She said sure so after napping and showering (OMG, the hostel had TEPID showers--TEPID, y'all. Other than that it was perfect--safe, spotless, friendly, but I honestly don't know if I could ever stay there again, it had TEPIDTEPIDTEPID showers. NOT HOT. *Shiverrrrrrrrrrr*) we met around 10 and ventured out, finding a place just a few blocks away called the Celtic.

This place was a straight up BLAST. Right out of central casting, a Dublin pub complete with traditional music, dancing, enthusiastic natives drinking Guinness and lots of posters on the walls.

We immediately got drinks and sat down, me with camera well in hand. Note the shamrock in the head of my Guinness!

LOTS of cute men there, all of whom were super-nice and non-skanky. We got talked to quite a bit. I was called a "good girrrrl" by a few guys who seemed to find me nice. One was named Colum (I remember at one point Colum telling us, in his lovely accent, how attractive he found blondes ("they'rrre hot!"). I can't remember the name of the other younger guy who talked to me (began with an A?)--he was a musician though. The guy in the picture below was named Frank.

If you look closely at this picture, just under the white arching-to-the-right part, you will see on the uppermost partitition on the far side of the bar....a picture of John F. Kennedy. THAT'S how classical Irish this place is! LOVE. IT.

Woke up the next morning and enjoyed an amazing, full Irish breakfast. I mean FULL--muffins, sausage, pudding (British puddings, kind of stuffed and solid), toast, eggs, coffee. So much deliciousness. And now what to do--this was my last day at this B&B (since I'd missed the first day) and I had to relocate to the hostel. But I wanted to sightsee as well--should I drag my stuff to the hostel, knowing my room might not be ready yet, or leave my luggage at the B&B for later pickup? The B&B proprietress said there was a luggage dropoff service right in the center of the city, very close to the hostel--in the end I figured it would probably be easier not to have to come back to Ballsbridge, so I checked out and took a bus to the foot of O'Connell Bridge, which connects with O'Connell Street, a main drag in Dublin. It is a wide avenue with a central median strip, very continentally elegant. I lugged my stuff over to the hostel, which is a pretty well-known one in Dublin, called Isaacs Hostel, converted from a wine cellar.

Luckily my room was ready, yay!--so I dropped off my stuff and went a-roaming.

I went back across the bridge, looking for the Molly Malone statue--Dublin isn't that big (NYC is much bigger) but it can be tricky to find your way for a couple of reasons. 1) They don't have a grid, it's one of those pre-modern European cities where the streets just sort of--bloomed, so to speak (sorry, Joyce!). 2) A LOT of streets seem to change names kind of arbitrarily.

View Larger Map

Notice how Dame Street suddenly turns into Lord Edward Street...and then Christchurch Place? YEAH. Confusing. But I did find Molly and her ta-tas:

One of the first Irish songs I ever learned. I kind of like the possibility that she may have also been a prostitute (catering to the students of Trinity College, in one account!)--I find it interesting that as much prostitutes are so looked down on and degraded and scapegoated, that time can soften that viciousness into something more poignant. As Mary Oliver said

sin blooms, then softens,
like any bed of flowers.

I did a bit of shopping, and then set off for Dublin Castle. This is old, old, old--it was a castle/fortress commissioned by King John and then the seat of power and administration ever since. It's a hodge-podge of different architectural styles because it's been rebuilt so much, because the place keeps getting blown up!--naturally the medieval ones interested me the most.

Check out that tower! That's the only part left from what was originally commissioned by John in 1204--the chapel on the left, though it looks medieval, is actually an example of the Gothic revival of the 18th-19th centuries. But there's even OLDER stuff on the grounds, if you can believe it--when they were doing restoration in the 1980s they uncovered part of another tower (p[art of the same design) that was built on top of the original VIKING fortification, with part of a MOAT where the Rivers Poddle and Liffey meet. SO EFFING COOL. The pool where the two rivers meet was dark--it was a dubh linn, a black pool, and so the city for its name. The Poddle now runs underground in Dublin. I love how even the river names are adorable in Ireland. Liffy. Poddle.

Normans knew how to build. Look at how thick that wall is.

Check that shit OUT. A by-God MOAT. Built over the river that gave the city its NAME.

The interior was interesting as well--there is where they kept prisoners of the Easter Uprising just before they executed them, and we were actually in the room where they kept James Connelly, one of the leader of the Easter Rising. There's also a wall where all the Irish Presidents (including the last one and present, both WOMEN!) put their personally-designed coats of arms. Being a bit of a design geek, I had to take a picture of one of the ceilings:

Isn't that gorgeous?

After the tour I went outside I was trying to decide between going on the Guinness tour that day and maybe seeing Christchurch the next day, and ended up deciding on the Guinness tour. I figured I'd walk there--it shouldn't take me more than 15 minutes, even though the sun had gone down (since it was now after 4). But after getting off the track a couple of time (though I did get a nice picture of Christchurch from the outside--Lambert Simnel was crowned there), I gave up on the Guinness (they close at 5), and walked back to the city center.

The River Liffey at night, shot from the Millennium Bridge.

So, I am back from Dublin. Aaahhhh--one thing I love about travel is how restored and newly-energized you feel when you get back. You literally have a new perspective--this is interesting in light of the mid-to-late medieval interest in perspective, and the dawning realization that the universe does not in fact revolve around the sun. I brought the Commedia to read while en route, and it was a beautiful metaphor--far above the planet I am replicating Dante's journey both metaphorically (by going to another land) and literally, because Dante rises far above the planet in Commedia. I love it when my studies synchronize with real life, although not surprised because one of my most cherished tenets is that history is relevant, we are constantly learning the same lessons over and over. Because we're all just people underneath.

So anyway this trip did not start off auspiciously because I missed my initial flight out. Aer Lingus issued an itinerary that had my departure time in 24-hour format, which I'm not used to--I got to the airport just before 8 pm, well in advance of what I thought was a 10:40 departure but when I checked the Departures sign, saw with horror that they were boarding. I ran as fast as I could to the Aer Lingus ticket counter but they'd already packed up and left, since that was the last flight of the day. Two of their customer service reps told me to come back the next day for the first flight out--I was obviously pretty upset but they assured me I should get on. But still SO upsetting and frustrating--I checked that itinerary so many times and I thought I'd done the math in my head. SOOOO annoying. I'm going to email Aer Lingus and say look, I take full responsibility for this annoying mistake but could you give us Yanks a break and post times in both formats? I can't be the only American to have made that error!

Anyway, came back home, made good use of the time by watching Michael Collins (my mother sent me the video) and then slogged out the next day. I left early (after triple-checking the time for their first flight out) because of all the brouhaha about the TSA scanner. Which, by the way, I find fascinating--it's interesting how it's mostly men who are complaining about feeling objectified and groped. Cry me a river, boys. Oooh, don't like feeling like you're on display? Don't like feeling vulnerable? Really. You say their hands might be lingering a bit too much, might be taking liberties? How come suddenly it's now an Angry!Man crisis when this sort of thing happens to women all the time and no one seems to care that much? Heh heh heh. I love that at least two articles have identified the gender issue on this. And frankly, I go through TSA all the time, and have no complaints. I find if you're preemptively respectful to people whose jobs it is to keep us safe, it goes a long way. This is probably why I get along so well with cops.

ANYWAY. I got there at 1:00 and cooled my heels for an hour. They opened up at 2 (first flight out was 5:40) and I breezed right the eff on. No problem whatsoever--in fact I got close to the same seat I'd requested before (a window seat, which I require--I cannot sleep unless I can lean against the window). So I had a LONG time before boarding, so just chilled in the airport, drinking Guinnesses (I had to catch up after losing a day!). Eventually we boarded, took off, and I slept as much as I could. We arrived well before the crack of dawn, around 5:30. Dublin, as you know, is much further north than New York City--its latitude is 53 o 20' N so at this time of year, daylight is in short supply. Of course we sailed through customs and immigration, so by the time the airlink bus dropped me off and I'd lugged my baggage several blocks (it's easy to get confused when THE SUN HASN'T RISEN YET), I was shivering on the doorstep of the B&B I'd booked for the first part of my stay. Luckily she was up, since, as I said, it was still predawn. I had a muffin and coffee and then collapsed for three hours.

I forced myself to get up at noon, because I had a hack scheduled for that afternoon--since I'd lost the first day, now I had to ride out on the day I'd arrived! I packed my boots into my gym bag and went out to find something to eat, and then I would grab a cab to the stable. The riding center had changed my original reservation from a private ride to a group one, and changed the time as well--which, as things turned out, was very much in my favor. They cut the rate quite a bit for the time change--a private hack is around €55, a group one is about €40.

I found a yummy restaurant and had steak and Guinness pie. And then scored quite a bit of luck--I asked my waiter how to hail a cab here, I said "in new York we wave at the cab, is it the same custom here? He asked where I was going, I told him, he said "you know that's going to be expensive, taking a cab all the way out there. Let me see if I can figure out a better way." He talked to his boss, came back, and gave me directions on how to take the commuter light rail, called the Luas. So the guy saved me like €27, both ways! Suhweeet!

I took the Luas, and then a cab from the station and got to the stables where they put me right on a horse. I got there right at 3:30, so they had no time to do an assessment but as soon as they saw my seat, they relaxed. Jack down those heels, Clara! There were three of us including the guide--we made our way onto the country road and then into the surrounding mountains, but not before some incredible views of the Dublin Bay area.

View Dublin Trip 2010 in a larger map

So yeah--Thanksgiving Day, just a few hours after I'd arrived in the country, I was cantering in the Dublin mountains, overlooking the bay. I was in HEAVEN, absolute bliss. I was chattering away about riding in Virginia--at one point the other rider asked me if I rode English, I said "I'm from Virginia--there's no other option! Not only English but hunt seat." When you say riding in Virginia, it's understood what you mean, and Western ain't it!

I'd smuggled in a camera and was able, quite surreptitiously, to transfer it from my left coat pocket to my right, and then sneak it out whenever we were walking to take some pictures and video. I had to be very quiet about this--it is a bit of a risk* even at just a walk (I certainly wouldn't risk it while trotting or cantering) but I just couldn't go without getting some pictures!

*Which is what makes it fun--riding is nothing without a little danger!

I'll post the videos later. But here am I exhausted and happy!

The other rider very kindly gave me a ride back to the Luas station (saving me a return taxi fare) and we had a lovely conversation about music and theater--she said her sister-in-law is some kind of musical academic and does lectures over here. When she heard I'd just directed Pirates, she said her SIL would get along great with me. I staggered back to Ballsbridge, the section of Dublin where the B&B was. As nice as this B&B was, it was a bit far out of the way, especially since I'd lost the first day already--if I go back to Dublin, I will probably not stay there again, it took me at least 20 minutes to get anywhere. I freshened up and then ventured out to find some yummy-ass hearty Irish food, and found this restaurant:

I had cockels and mussels (which were not alive, alive-o), Smithwicks, and a YUMMY Irish chowder. Staggered back to the B&B in the rain and went to sleep.