Ireland~January, 1996
Sat., Jan. 13, 1996 (air courier trip) to Sunday, Jan 14
It took two hours to reach long-term parking at JFK. The bus came almost immediately, and I was whisked to the American airlines terminal. There I caught the Q3 bus to Queens where I quickly located the Halbart Express facility. I was there before 3 o'clock and my flight wasn't till 6:50!! In the waiting room were three other couriers: one each for Milan, Madrid and Frankfurt. They left sporadically, and finally, about 5:30, my turn came. I became the third person in the cab of a big truck and we took off back to the airport. When we arrived, the men unloaded twelve huge (70 lb.) plastic bags full of smaller packages, many with Airborne or Fedex markings. This was "my" baggage. We checked in and they had to pay $320 in excess baggage charges. (The price on my ticket was already $1863). I got one of the middle seats in the plane, but it was less than five hours of a very bumpy flight (it was supposed to take 5 1/2 but we had a strong tail wind), and we landed in Dublin. I changed some money (note: change as little as possible @ airport--go to Amex office for no commission) and went to check the baggage return area. My instructions were, if none of the bags appeared on the carousel, I was free to leave. They didn't, so I did.
It was now about 6:45 am, pitch black and raining. I waited about half an hour for the bus to the city, then walked twenty minutes in the dark, deserted streets to the Avalon House. Nothing would be ready till 11, a 4-bed room (may be coed). At 9 am it was just getting light and will be dark again by 4. One small concern, they only have five nights available. Apparently every room in the city is booked Fri & Sat for the Irish/Scottish rugby game. First thing, I went to the tourist office and am now booked in a single (20L) in Wicklow for Fri. night. I'm to call Mrs O'Connor when the bus arrives and she'll come meet me. An old man gave me handbill for traditional Irish music at Fitzsimon's on Thurs. so maybe I'll do that. I hope I don't have to spend next Friday night in the airport. The tourist bureau is closed on Sunday and opens at 9 am tomorrow. I have three roommates and my guess is that they're female.
Napped for an hour and then decided to go to the museums since it's still raining. The National Gallery is only partially open. It's being remodeled and will open fully in April. Still, it was a very rewarding visit. The Irish painters are all on display. They are hung in a series of connecting octagonal-shaped, green painted rooms and are arranged chronically. The final room is dedicated to a person named Jack B. Yeats, who died in 1957. I had never heard of him, but his work is great. He uses oil paint as a sculptural medium, and his figures--human and animal (especially horses)--seem three-dimensional. I bought some postcards and a little biography of him. The only other thing on exhibit was a wonderful group of small Turner watercolor "sketches". He's always been one of my favorites, so I really enjoyed this display. The Museum of Natural History was one room full of dinosaur bones. I must go back and find out where the rest of the stuff is. I hope it's not being renovated also.
By now, I was pretty whipped. I walked down the famous shopping street--Grafton--and went to Temple Bar (the "trendy" area of Dublin) and had a traditional Irish dinner (light "boxty" potato pancakes filled with lamb and vegetables) plus salad and other winter veggies at Gallagher's Boxty House. On my way home, I went into a beautiful Carmelite church absolutely filled with candles and gorgeous mosaics. I'll have to wait till tomorrow to find out its name. To bed early.
Monday, Jan. 15
Dublin Castle--no doubt due to the fact that it's Monday morning in January, I had a personal tour. The castle was begun by the Vikings, then by King John in the 13th c. and has been modernized on a fairly consistent basis since. Friday it will host the latest round of peace talks between the British and Northern Ireland. I arrived at Trinity College (after a continental breakfast at the hostel) just as classes were changing. It could have been any campus anywhere. This is the oldest university in Ireland, founded in 1592 by QEI. Dublin is divided into North and South by the River Liffy. Trinity and most of the historic points of interest are on the south side. it is a picturesque quadrangle with cobbled paths, one of which leads to the Old Library. The building itself was impressive, with a very modern bookstore/giftshop on the first floor and a grand staircase leading to the "Long Room", with 200,000 of the Library's oldest books. It also supposedly houses the Book of Kells, an 8th c. version of the four Gospels. After falling in love with the beautiful illuminated manuscripts in the British Museum, I was prepared for this to be a highlight of the trip. What a disappointment! There were two glass cases with facsimiles of two pages. I was glad no one had asked me for the 2L admission priced noted in the guidebooks.
So I walked back up Dame St. (I'm becoming very familiar with this part of Dublin), past the grungy Olympia theatre ("one of the city's leading showplaces") where "The King & I" is playing currently, to Dublin City Hall. Only the Rotunda is open to the public, it is peaceful and the stained glass dome is impressive. Surrounding the dome is colored plasterwork and frescoes. The mosaic floor is the Dublin Coat of Arms with two figures, Law & Justice (strangely un-blindfolded) and three castles which appear to be aflame. The flames in fact symbolize the zeal of the citizen defenders of Dublin.
Across the street is Christ Church Cathedral, dating back to 1038. Like so many European cathedrals (Spanish excepted) it is dark and dirty and, as in London churches, filled with monuments to war heroes. I was the only visitor at noon when a two minute "Prayers for World Peace" ceremony was held. If you go, be sure and visit the crypt to see the mummified remains of a cat and rat caught between two organ pipes
This morning about 30 late teen-aged boys, in varying degrees of attire, checked in at the hostel. Two of my female roommates checked out and I hope their beds were not filled with rugby players. Now it's time to think about lunch. Leo Burdock's was in all the books, so I went in for fish & chips. I selected ray and wondered when my meal package felt as if it weighed about three pounds. The fish was absolutely fresh, but encased in thick deep-fried crust and surrounded by french fries. I picked off most of the crust and got rid of the bones as I sat in St. Patrick's courtyard. The cathedral was more of the same, although the stained glass is very lovely. The church is trying to raise 200,000L to renovate the organ. The donation containers were Guinness kegs. Not like Geyers Church!
I worked my way back through various shopping streets, but couldn't find any grocery, fruit or wine stores. I wonder where Dubliners shop. All the books talk about shopping, but I haven't seen any bargains, maybe because the dollar is so weak. I did find one very wonderful thing, but I couldn't spend enough time there--St. Teresa's Church. First of all, it was the only church in all my trips in which lots of people were worshipping (with no service in progress). Second, the stained glass in magnificent. Strangely, it was also a Carmelite church, like the one next to my hostel. On the way home, I fund a stall with oranges and cheese, then a wine store. I am now sipping, nibbling and writing. The herd of boys was just led off by some apparent leaders, and the woman at the table next to mine says she thinks they checked in yesterday.
Tuesday, January 16
Toured the Georgian (SE) part of Dublin for a couple of hours, visiting Merion and FitzWilliam Squares (the former is now my 2nd favorite place--after St. Teresa's), very reminiscent of the squares in London except there everything is painted white. Here, all of these houses had brightly colored doors. I walked down to the Grand Canal, which was every bit as filthy as its Venetian counterpart, and stopped at the National Tourist Centre. As I paused on the steps outside, a lady with a very-Texas accent told me how much she loved my (LL Bean) hand-knit sweater. Two other folks had asked for directions--one a German mother looking for shops and the other an elderly Irishman looking for the National Library. Fortunately, I was able to help them both. Then I stopped into Marks & Spence to buy grapefruit juice and afterwards boarded a St Kevin's bus for Glendalough. After a trip of about an hour and a half through the suburbs, we ended up at a secluded setting where, in the 16th c., St Kevin had founded a monastery. There were very interesting ruins and a path up into the sheep-infested mountains to a gorgeous waterfall--it was just like Camp Carmichaels. Two deer even leapt across our path. It's interesting to compare two hermits--St Kevin in this beautiful, temperate place, and San Jaran de la Pena, in the middle of nowhere. Before I began the hike I had tea (very good) and a tomato and cheese sandwich (very bad) at a private home nearby. I met a lady from CA and she and I decided to go for dinner upon our return to Dublin. It was good to have the company, but the "authentic" Irish Stew was terrible, and the music we wanted to hear ended at 7, when we arrived, and hadn't begun again at 8:45 when we left. I came home and was changing into my nightwear when some man in jockey shorts came in. He's sleeping on top of me tonight. I washed my hair and am ready for bed.
Wednesday, January 17
A fourth roomie arrived sometime in the middle of the night. The desk didn't have a key, so they just told him to knock until someone woke up. I did. Walked to the bus station after breakfast and boarded a bus to Galway. My favorite seat (front on the non-driver's side) was taken, but I had good luck with #2. The day was bright and the scenery for 3 3/4 hours exactly what one would expect from the Emerald Isle. Small green fields, marked off by ancient stone fences creating irregular shapes. The weather here is similar to early April at home, and there were lots and lots of baby lambs frolicking in the new green grass. When we got close to the city of Galway (third in the Republic of Ireland, after Dublin and Cork), the wind picked up and I knew I was near the ocean.
I went to the tourist office and got a map of the city and instructions for a walking tour. The city began as a small fishing village around the estuary of the River Corrib. Its buildings are stone and somewhat reminiscent of a provincial Florence. Galway, unlike other Irish cities, never had a Georgian period when brick replaced grey stone. I walked through the old city for a while, looking for sweater bargains (but never found any, even though the Aran Islands are but a short ferry ride away) and a place to eat. I finally had a good--very good--meal. There was a blackboard outside of a pub, "House of Bards", advertising Donegal oysters. I had half a dozen. Wonderful. Very different from ours. I've never tasted anything so clearly "of the sea". If I ever see them again, I'm buying a dozen. Entree was a delicious cold salmon salad.
Then I was in for the second treat of the day. I walked along the river to visit the Galway Cathedral, just across the Salmon Weir Bridge, so named because of all the weirs built into it to catch the salmon as they head up from the sea to spawn. They are visible in two of the pictures. Anyway, this church is absolutely magnificent and only 30 years old. it's beyond my words, so I bought a book. Everything about it, architecture, windows, mosaics, marble, wood ceilings, is unbelievable. Definitely a must-see.
Walked a bit more, then back to the bus. I had it all planned. I was first in line and successfully claimed "my" seat. Then someone joined me. This guy had been on the bus in the morning and I couldn't help but notice him. Everything about him was exactly like that drunk on the Grand Ole Opry--even the hiccups. I had a miserable hour and a half till we made a 15 minute stop and I escaped. I surreptitiously moved to the middle and he never knew. So much for planning.
On the way home, I decided to stop at the Irish music place. They were supposed to start at 8:30. I got there about 8:45, and the music didn't start till 10:30 (they had to wait till the soccer game was over, and it went into overtime. I only stayed about 45 minutes and expected to wake everyone up. At 12:15 am it appeared that only the girl was left and she wasn't in yet. I'm off to the Land of Nod.
Thursday, January 18 my last day in Dublin.
I decided to walk the north side of the Liffy. Over the Halfpenny Bridge and up the quayside. I've been wondering all week where the Irish shop, and today I found the fruit and vegetable answer. Right in the heart of town there's a huge market(s) with trucks of produce, small family stations wagons towing trailers of produce and horses pulling wagons of produce, mostly winter stuff (cabbage, parsnips, carrots, turnips, chard, etc.) but also quantities of oranges and bananas. I saw three ladies with customized baby buggies filling up with fruit. Later in the day, I saw them hawking their wares on O'Connell St.
This seems to be a much more residential area, and I think I know where the phrase "lace curtain Irish" originated. The houses are two-storey row style, and everyone has lace curtains in the windows. These streets criss-cross behind the Four Courts, a beautiful complex of buildings. When I entered the rotunda, the doors on the outside were labeled: "court1", "court 2", etc. and the floor was full of lawyers in robes and white wigs waiting with their clients. As I passed through this area, I saw lots of ugly, modern apartment buildings (no more than two or three stories, however) and ended at Parnell Square. On the way was the second area of impressive Georgian residences (the first being around St. Stephen's Square). While the southern area was still well-tended and fashionable, this was rather seedy. One series of four doorways had two plaques designating former inhabitants, one of whom lived "in Parisian splendor", while the other ruled "in Polish magnificence". They did, that is, until they sold their houses and Alderman Meade turned them into tenements, each housing up to 70 people.
I also went into St. Savior's Church, very big, with pretty windows. Parnell Square itself had the Remembrance Garden, which is lovely and peaceful and commemorates the Easter Rising of 1916. Walked down busy, commercial O'Connell St., I visited probably my last church in Dublin, Pro-Cathedral, the only Greek Revival one I've seen. Very pretty, with an airy, open pink and white interior. Up Henry St., the northside's Grafton St., and Moore, with its open air market where I lunched on two plums and two tomatoes. Past the GPO (General Post Office), which holds a special place in Irish history as the headquarters of the Irish Volunteers in the Easter Rising.
I needed to confirm my Aer Lingis flight so I did that, then found the real (non-dinosaur) National Museum. The exhibits were: Prehistoric Ireland, Ireland's Gold (very beautiful 3000 year old jewelry), The Treasury (a history of Irish craft), The Road to Independence (an interesting collection of photos and history from 1900-21); Viking Ireland (also fascinating; grindstones used for corn in 900 AD--I thought American Indians discovered maize); and then some Irish pottery and glass. I stopped in one more place, an exhibition of Huguenots in Ireland and then realized I was pretty hungry. I looked at one place, The Unicorn, which appeared very nice, but a bit more than I wanted to spend, so I went to the Elephant & Castle and had a very greasy apple, walnut and Stilton omelet (how can you ruin an omelet?)
Home at 7, ready to write. My roommate from the other night (17 year old German girl) was sitting on the bed. We chatted for a few minutes, then she said, "Do you think all men are vulnerable?" I then played Mother Confessor for an hour till a young Chilean lad came in. We then talked about more superficial stuff (Thank goodness!). Roommate #4 has a bag here, but no body. The two young ones went out (separately) although Christina did come back once to tell me the lobby was full of gorgeous Scotch rugby players in kilts--in case I wanted to do the town. Now I think they are all outside my hostel reveling in the street in anticipation of the weekend rugby matches. Time for Gail to turn in. Bus at 9 am. Friday--On my last full day in Ireland it rained hard--the first day I needed my umbrella. It was fun anyway. Last night was different. Christina came in about 10:30. She had gone to a concert at Trinity. Had I known that's where she was going, I'd probably have gone along. We went to bed, then roommate #4 came in, sometime, turned the light on and off and went to bed also. Much later, Mr. Chile stumbled in and, very clumsily, climbed to the bunk (it squeaks) over my head and passed out. Later he fell out of the top bunk and staggered to the bathroom. Then he came back, dragged his quilt around his half naked body and staggered out. Then he came back; sans quilt and climbed up to bed. Still later, I woke up as he was taking my quilt in the process of a vain search for his own.
Friday, January 19
I held on. He was still asleep when I left, after helping Christina find the envelope with all her money which she was sure had been stolen. I returned my towel and got my deposit (less 50 p) back, walked to the bus station and boarded the bus for Wicklow, the "Garden of Ireland". The town is a port on the sea with fishing and merchant ships. It's quite small, with the usual pubs and small shops. My Bed & Breakfast, "Glengorse", is a very nice home which my hostess, Anne O'Connor, says is very busy only in July and August. This is her fifth year, and she's tired of it (I think it's the early morning breakfasts that are doing her in). It will be nice to have a private bedroom tonight. The bus arrived at 10:30; and after settling in and mandatory stop at the tourist office (not very helpful), I walked, umbrella in hand and alpaca poncho on, for about an hour and a half, then had a pint and a bowl of soup and a pot of tea at Fitzpatrick's Pub. The rain had slowed down, so I walked some more--along the coast (past the R. Conway Shipping Co.) and around the ruins of the Black Castle built in the 12th c. and attacked constantly during inter-tribal warfare until it was totally destroyed in 1301.
As I walked, an elderly lady stopped and asked me if it was Friday or Saturday (it must be my personality). This is another spot where it would be nice to have a car, as the coast road linking Wicklow to Arklow "is one of the most scenic drives in the country". I came back and counted my money to see if I dare have dinner at the Wicklow Grand Hotel. I looked at the menu and everything looked nice. I think I can afford it, so I'll go back about 6, then come home and go to bed early. It was OK. I relaxed, the only diner in a pretty room, at a table by the window looking out at the rain. I had a salad with little disks of fried brie and rack of lamb (Wicklow lamb, according to the menu) which was very good with a sauce of honey and cream. Then some fancy, very sweet, chocolate dessert. It was more than I should have paid, but I'm not sorry (there were also many vegetables good mashed potatoes, good carrots, broccoli and very odd canned baby corn with sweet and sour sauce)
Saturday, January 20
Woke up with the rain beating against my window. My hostess wasn't up, so I thought I'd not get breakfast, but she bustled out and gave me juice and tea and cereal. Then down to the bus stop to wait in the rain. I lost my ticket and had to buy another--so much for the friendliness of the Irish. Arrived back in Dublin and picked up the airport bus right away. I did some shopping, successfully finding Torres brandy, and waited to board. The news says there is much flooding and 60 mph winds in New York. The flight back took seven and a half hours; the one eastbound was just over five.
Gail South