Dublin

I have been mucking about in my brain thoughts of my visit to Dublin.  In truth, it was the least enjoyable portion of my trip.  Not Dublin's fault at all - it delivered what I asked of it but I think what my body and soul craved was the countryside.  I was happiest and most content there and I didn't realize how much until I hit Dublin.  It was jarring in a way.  Another time, another visit Dublin and I will probably bond.

So after leaving Paddy Hearny's cottage from the last post, I continued my journey to Dublin - ah, the driving - fantastic.  I hit the little seaside town of Bray which is about 20 miles south of Dublin - the very end of the DART southern line (the train to Dublin).  And it is here that my ignorance of public transportation reared its ugly head.  I assumed Bray had its own train that was like a bullet train up to Dublin - no stopping.  So how shocked was I when it took about an hour to go 20 miles.  I mean Dublin Area RAPID Transit.  The Rapid part is debateable especially when the train broke and we sat somewhere in the middle for 20 minutes.  Luckily I had a great girl to chat with the duration.  Her name was Maeve and a college student at Trinity.  I made it to Pearce station and step out and see this pub:  It was a Kennedy day! (It wasn't open.)

But after that I was just really, really lost.  My goal was to visit the Book of Kells at Trinity College.  So excited to such an ancient tome.  My map said Trinity was one block away but I saw nothing but business buildings and noise and cars and noise and people and noise.  Jarring.  I walked and got "lost-er and lost-er".  I finally just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk defeated - everyone I had asked was American or Australian and didn't know where I should go either.  A kind Irishman noticed my dejected/defeated vibe.  He stopped right in front of me and told me I looked lost.  I must have looked pretty pitiful.  He walked with me BLOCKS to the front of Trinity and shared with me the best spot for a bite to eat, banoffee pie and tea.  What a dear, dear man.  I hope he is one day sainted.  The patron saint of lost Southerners.

I was disappointed in Trinity also.  I thought it would be amazing, old and weighted with so much history and learning (I am sure there are parts that are but I didn't see them). The entrance that went to the Book of Kells was like a community college - lots of concrete.  The Book was fantastic to see but I had been living in a cloud of sensory yummy-ness since arriving in Ireland (the sights, sounds, smells, food, touching the stones and engravings) that the dark room with the book under deep glass felt cold.  I didn't linger but was glad I got to see it.  But, THEN, I visited the Long Room portion of the Old Library.  Oh my!  I remember thinking, "This is what I came for!"  It was in this room that Oscar Wilde, Jonathan Swift and so many others studied, thought, developed.  It smelled of old leather and books, visually it was divine.  It had a high, wooden arched ceiling - the longest in the world, I believe.  Shelves and shelves of rare books (no touching, of course.)  The presence of history was so strong - I got goosebumps.  I stayed there and just sat for a very long while.  Such Joy and Satisfaction.






My question is this: Why do so many churches
have red doors? 



Batteries recharged I went to find the cafe my Irish Saint recommended and I am happy to say I found it without incident.  I had bread and soup but also the banoffee pie that at least five people said I MUST have before leaving Ireland.  It was a lovely piece of heaven on a plate although quite sweet.  It is some mixture of bananas and toffee but not crunchy toffee.  I then strolled Grafton Street which is a huge pedestrian street full of shops - and lots of people.  I didn't go into one store- I just kept thinking I wanted to get into my car and just drive.  So I left.  I found my station and my train and endured 20 more stops on the way to Bray.  My Silver Bullet was as happy to see me as I was her.  ("Reunited and it feels so good...")  I drove and listened to Gaelic radio all the back to Portumna.  I didn't arrive until about 9pm tired and travel-worn and it is here that the incident that I described a few posts back about being sat at the front of the blacktie banquet happened.  I was very happy to have food and be back near my dad.  The countryside was where I belonged while in Ireland. 

I only took three pictures in Dublin.  I think that is pretty telling of how I was feeling.  This picture of Cat Deeley was an advertisement poster in a store window.  For those of you, like me, who are fans of So You Think You Can Dance - it might mean something (although what, I couldn't say).  To the rest (and admitted majority) of you it can be whatever you would like to make of it.  I just like writing with pictures and didn't have a lot of material to work with from Dublin <grin>