Day 5, Thursday, 2006-10-11 – Dublin
On my to the barn to work Lily this morning, I wondered why I had been putting off writing about our day in Dublin. Put in those terms, the answer came immediately: the most vivid memory I have of Dublin is being uncomfortable. I am rarely exposed to cities, and I have forgotten how congested and noisy they are, and punishment my feet take from the pavement. Even Jack agreed that Dublin was very noisy, and he has a much higher tolerance for loud sounds than I do.
Tom (Jack’s cousin with whom we were staying), volunteered to drive us into the city center, about two miles from his house. We left about mid-morning, after a leisurely breakfast of coffee and cold cereal with milk. After the huge Irish breakfasts we had been eating at the Bed and Breakfast lodgings, I was very happy to get cold cereal and milk.
As we approached downtown, I could see why no one drives in Dublin if they can avoid it. Even after morning rush hour was over, the traffic was still very bad. Fortunately, Tom knew of a place that would still have parking, because parking also looks like it would be quite a challenge. He had mapped out a plan for us to follow after finding out what we wanted to see, to minimize the amount of walking we would have to do. Since it looked like a relatively small area, I thought this was overkill, but was glad of Tom’s foresight by the end of the day.
Tom walked with us to the National Museum. I grew up in Washington, DC with its free major museums, and was astonished when I found out that most museums worldwide charge admission. I’ve long since become accustomed, so I was amazed that the Irish National Museum didn’t charge a fee.
After he looked at a few exhibits with us, Tom went off to pursue his studies and Jack and I spent about an hour wandering around looking at such famous treasures as the Tara broach. They also had an elaborate exhibit about the ceremonial bog burials which was fascinating, though occasionally a little too detailed for my tastes. Some of the burials were on display, but usually in such a fashion that one didn’t see them unexpectedly: you had to turn a corner to see the remains.
After we left the National Museum, we headed to Grafton Street, which is a major shopping area. Jack had a goal: to find a sim chip for the old cell phone that Sarah had given us. Although the cell phone was old and battered, it still worked, and the plan was to find a cheap plan which would allow us emergency cell phone use while we were in Ireland.
While Jack scouted for chips, I browsed through the shops. Some were touristy, but most seemed to be places were Dubliners could shop. I checked out a book store, a newsstand, and a department store before it was time to rejoin Jack. He had found a chip for 10 EU that came with 10 EU worth of time.
Jack called Tom to give him our number, then we headed to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells. This was the only thing I was certain that I wanted to see in Dublin, even if we had to stand in line. No line. In fact, when we got down to the exhibit, there were only a few other visitors in the room. We could look at the Book of Kells and the other books for as long as we wanted, which was another benefit of not traveling during the height of tourist season. One nice feature of the exhibit was a video of someone making a book using the same design as the Book of Kells. Since I enjoy making books, I appreciated seeing how scholars think it was made, instead of just having to guess.
After we left the exhibit of the books, we exited through the Long Room, which was just as amazing to me. The Long Room, a long, three-story vaulted lined with books, is a book-lovers fantasy, and I was briefly disappointed that I couldn’t take any photos. Jack leaned over and whispered “where’s the orangutan” and I giggled. (Had to be a Pratchett fan, probably.) He finally had to practically drag me out, and I headed immediately to the gift shop to buy postcard images of what I couldn’t photograph.
We then used the facilities at the Trinity College Student Union. In my experience, most student unions are fairly plain affairs, but I would have expected more from Trinity College. Whoever designed that building hated students.
I was starting to notice that I had been walking and standing on a lot of concrete, but we decided to head to Christ Church. Christ Church is very old, but much of what one can see now is the Victorian Gothic of a complete renovation that was done in the late 19th century. However, there were some very interesting features, and I enjoyed going down into the crypt, especially when I learned that the crypt had been a sort of marketplace at one time. Anything to get out of the rain, I suppose.
The next stop was Templebar. I was starting to flag and my poor feet were feeling very abused. (I don’t write about it much here, but I spent much of 2005 and part of this year crippled by a combination of plantar fasciitus and achilles tendonitus. A stretching program combined with taking glucosamine chondritin has helped a great deal, and I keep ibuprofen in reserve for when it flares-up.) We found a pub in the Templebar area, and I felt a little better after sitting down and drinking a Guinness. I felt even better after drinking another Guinness in another pub: good enough that I didn’t insist on a cab instead of heading to the bus stop. It was getting dark and we had told Tom and Sarah that we would be home by 7:00 or so.
I collapsed on a step next to the bus stop. We told the people where we were going, and the guy on the step next to me said he was headed to that area and would tell us which bus. Since I wasn’t standing, I rather enjoyed watching the lights of the city traffic, especially seeing the huge buses tearing along the street. After our bus arrived, we were lucky enough to get seats next to a woman who said she was getting off at our stop. Jack called Tom to tell him that we were safely headed back. When we got off at the stop, Tom was walking the dog across the road: I don’t think he truly trusted his Yank cousins’ ability to navigate in Dublin.
For dinner, we went with Tom and Sarah to a nearby Indian restaurant that had gotten good reviews. The food was excellent, the service was good, and the ambiance was low-key elegant. (We only had one bad meal in Ireland: several were excellent, and most were good. I was pleasantly surprised.) After a leisurely dinner, we went back to the house and sat around sampling the 12 year old reserve Bushmill’s whiskey that Jack had given Tom, and talking for hours.
Written Tuesday 2006-12-06