Dublin - Day 10

11 March 2007

I haven’t updated in a while, but I have been a busy kid. I’m getting a little antsy to get out of the city atmosphere of Dublin because I’m just not used to all the hustle and bustle, though it would be a people-watcher’s dream come true. Let’s see… On Friday, we had no class, but we had field trips to Kilmainham Gaol and the Irish Museum of Modern Art. The gaol (jail) was a pretty impressive sight. It was where the revolutionaries from the Easter 1916 uprising were imprisoned and executed. To put that into analogy: If it were the USA, it’d be like if George Washington, Paul Revere, Ben Franklin and other revolultionary types were captured and executed. That’s how important the 1916 uprising was to Irish independence. The jail was somber, cold, drab, and generally miserable (imagine that) and the stonecutter’s yard where the heroes were executed was particularly chilling, the spot of their execution marked only with a single, simple black wooden cross. While at the jail, the tour-leader chose me to be the “prison guard” meaning that I had to look menacing and count up the rest of the group as we proceeded through the jail to make sure that we didn’t accidentally lose anybody. I was fine with the counting part, not so good at the looking menacing part. I guess prison guards don’t generally giggle and grin.

The Museum of Modern Art was pretty cool. I enjoy modern art a lot, so I had a good time. We had to choose works to write on for my art history class, so once I conclude this entry, I’ll be off to do that.

After that, Dr. Connolly, Christine and Mark, Kevin, Jeff, Dan and I went to tour the Guinness factory. We ended up stopping for lunch on the way at this little hole in the wall kebab shop where I had the most delicious veggie burger (it was like deep-fried coleslaw or something) and also I experienced the joy that is a fresh bag of “chips”. Not like potato chips in the US, these chips are like our steak fries. Except better. Fresh and hot from the frier, these deep fried little bits of deliciousness drenched in vinegar and lightly sprinkled with salt, clog my arteries and thrill my tastebuds. Oh, chips. How I love thee! The only problem I have with the take-away restaurants is that they don’t really give you napkins. This is problematic for someone clumsy like yours truly.

Chips finished, we arrived at the Guinness Brewery and Storehouse where we were ushered up an escalator greeted by a sign extolling “the magic of fermentation”. It was then I knew that I was in the Disney World of Beer. I don’t like Disney World, and I didn’t like beer back in the states, so I felt a bit turned off to the whole experience, especially when I found out that it would be 9 euros to walk through a gallery of beer. Not my idea of a good time. Luckily Connolly and the others, barring Jeff and Kevin agreed with me, so we left Jeff and Kevin to tour the factory and found ourselves the oldest pub in Ireland, the Brazen Head Pub, which has been in existence since 1198. Impressive. It was a lovely little afternoon stop and I chatted with my friends and the proprietor while sipping some Smithwick’s (a lager brewed by Guinness pronounced “smithix”, without the “w”), which I like a whole lot and better than Guinness because Smithwick’s is crisper and not quite so syrup-y. After a nice long walk home and dinner, Ann, Meghan, a group of others, and I headed out to find some traditional Irish music. We found it at O’Donohughe’s, a little pub a few blocks from the hotel. We did NOT find it in Temple Bar, the uber-trendy (and touristy) section of Dublin just north of the Liffey. Temple Bar is not my bag, though the night life is renowned throughout all of Europe. It was almost as bright as day time and crawling with young adults even though it was 11 PM! I’d much rather sit and chat in a little corner pub populated by older folks. I like older people. Maybe this is why I like to play bridge and knit and why I don’t like loud raucous music or fast cars.

Yesterday (Saturday) though was the best day of the trip thus far, which is really saying something because I’ve had a wonderful time here my first week. Yesterday, though, we headed down to Bray, a small seaside suburb south of Dublin. We (“we” comprised of Ann, Meghan, Christine and Mark, and I) took the Dart train (a commuter/metra type of train) down the coast and it was just gorgeous going along the seashore. It was like all of the sudden you rounded a corner and the horizon just opened up and there was ocean and bay and little cliffs and hills jutting out over the ocean. After leaving the train station we crossed the street to the ocean and played on the seashore. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day, it was probably about 60 degrees and sunny. So sunny that I actually managed to get sunburned in Ireland in March, but then again, with my skin, I can sunburn if I just think about the sun for too long. I found some kelp that had washed up on the sea shore and it was great fun to feel how thick and strong it was. I threw lots of rocks into the ocean while trying to skip them, and I climbed up on big piles of boulders that accumulated at the point. After we got inadvertently soaked while arranging rocks on the little strand of sand we found, we decided to head out in search of some fish and the requisite chips (ohhhh chips….) We found them, but found no napkins and no place to sit so we wandered about to look for a park. What we found was a small green in front of a community college where we got funny looks and a little girl kept said as she was walking by: “There’s no picnic there! There’s no picnic! There’s no f**king picnic!”, but nobody else commented or even walked by and it was not private property, so we figured she was just a leprechaun in disguise or something. After our grand fish and chips, we wandered about town enjoying the fineness of the day. We found the Irish equivalent of a dolar store (the Eurostop) where I finally found something stuffed with which to cuddle at night (cue tangent)

So, my tangent… if you’ll kindly remember, I left Softcheeks, my stuffed animal bunny that I’ve slept with every night, back in the states. This made me sad. I tried to go without, but I found that wasn’t working. The extra pillow I asked for was too big and I’d just chuck it out of bed. Meanwhile, I had taken to grabbing random electronic equipment off my nightstand in my sleep and snuggling with it. The first time it was the alarm clock. The next day I woke up with my pedometer, and the day after that it was my cell phone still attached to it’s charger. Clearly, I missed Softcheeks. So finally I decided that I needed a stuffed animal surrogate Softcheeks before the computer or digital camera was next. I went into a toy shop in St. Stephen’s Green, but they only had expensive stuffed animals. So I saw a maternity store on the way out of the mall. Surely they’d have something probably very soft for babies, I thought to myself. I walked uneasily into the shop and the lady at the desk must have noted my confusion, “Are you alright?” she asked (side note: she wasn’t asking about my well-being, that’s just what they say here instead of “can I help you?”) and I replied that I was looking for a stuffed animal. She looked at me like I had an elm tree growing out of my left nostril. I explained that I meant a teddy bear or stuffed bunny and she went “Oh! So you mean a soft toy?” Apparently she was confused and thought that I meant I was looking for a taxidermied something or other in the maternity store. She showed me where the “soft toys” were and then asked me if I was expecting. I answered emphatically no, and decided that I don’t like maternity shops and that they are poor places to find soft toys.

I did find a soft toy at the Irish dollar store in Bray (well, a squishy little teeny-bopper pillow with a cartoon girl with unusually prominent cleavage embroidered next to the word “Floozy”) that fit the cuddle test, though I am disturbed by the sexuality being promoted to such young girls on throw pillows of all places. After some more wandering, we ended up by the seashore again and we found an ice cream kiosk. For only a euro fifteen, I experienced the sheer unadulterated pleasure that is Irish whipped ice cream. It’s like soft serve, but far, far better. They stick a little chocolate wafer in the side and drizzle chocolate syrup on it, and it is a little bit of heaven served up in a cone. What a dinner! (a completely unhealthy eating day. But you win some, you lose some. We walked probably about 8 and a half miles yesterday though, so I don’t feel too bad.)

Well, that concludes my magnificent day or two. (Ann and I stayed in last night working on some homework and watching opera and gaelic reality shows on the telly) and I now have more homework to work on. Cheers! And I’ll be writing next from Cork.

PS: Daylight savings time doesn't start here until the 25th of March and Mother's Day here is March 18th