DUBLIN, IRELAND, FEBRUARY 2016
Getting There
So thanks to my friend Virginia for encouraging all of this. If it isn't recorded, in a few short years it is as if it never happened. This particular story is simply about our travels in Ireland and documented for those close to us who are interested in our adventures and for those future generations who may be inquisitive enough to see what our lives were like.
I have been thinking a lot of my parents these days, especially my Father. He lost his own dad when he was a baby, moved to Ireland as a toddler, grew up dirt poor outside of Kilkenny, sent to boarding school, and, likely due to issues with a stepfather, left home early to join the Oxford Police. Then came WW II and his adventures there. But Canada always had a piece of him, and to the good fortune of his eight children, he settled there after the war.
So Dublin is close, it's comfortable, it almost feels like home. It certainly does to Wendy, whose own Grandmother immigrated from Dunmanway to Canada in 1916. She ended up as a teacher in Northern Alberta, living in a sod hut, before carving out a life for herself on a prosperous farm by Millet, Alberta.
We arrived in Dublin by a circuitous route, via Charlotte, N. Carolina, where we were fortunate enough to see Andrew, Tara and the smartest grandchild on the planet. There onto New York, where two very old, very close friends were going through yet more employment related turmoil with big decisions demanding attention. I hope our endless advice and copious amounts of wine helped them out in some small way.
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Aer Lingus, soon to be my favorite airline, deposited us at Customs at the ungodly hour of 0430. I had decided to ride Wendy's Irish passport with her and sail right through the line for "Irish Nationals" with the intent of full disclosure of our activities. I was very quickly dismissed with not so much as a glance at my inferior Canadian passport and told to attend with the rest of the foreigners. Wendy sailed right through of course, with a quick wave and a "see ya on the other side!"
Hopefully.
"Working or visiting?"
"Just visiting".
"How long are you staying for?"
"Six weeks, if you'll let me."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Retired, Sir."
"You must know people here?"
"Aye, I do." A little lie, but she was already on the other side.
"Enjoy your stay." Stamp. Good for 90 days.
The little diesel Opal was certainly acceptable, but some joker put the steering wheel on the wrong side of it. Given that, the steady rain, the standard transmission, the Ipad not orienting "track up" and the smell of a burning clutch all the way, we eventually found our little apartment. I love renting, the landlord had the heat completely shut off, but through shivering fingers Wendy got the pilot light lit and the warmth and glow from the little gas fireplace finally convinced us we would eventually survive.
Downtown Dublin (Pt 1)
If one can avoid the obvious tourist traps, like Grafton Street, and generally north of the Liffey, there are some fabulous places to see. We are a 50 minute hike to St Stephens Green, a large park in the centre of the real action, we have done this half a dozen times and we are not even a third of the way through our list of things to see.
Trinity Dublin College, first founded in 1592, is world famous and home to the Book of Kells: "The Book of Kells is Ireland's greatest cultural treasure and the world's most famous medieval manuscript. The 9th century book is a richly decorated copy of the four Gospels of the life of Jesus Christ." The long room is the old library, home to 200,000 manuscripts and the busts of all the significant contributors, a very impressive building.
Downtown Dublin (Pt 2)
The history is almost overwhelming. A good place to start is the Museum of Archeology. It has an impressive collection of ancient gold and silver jewellery, weapons, and bog bodies, some of which are 10,000 years old. The quality of the goldsmithing, for being 3000 to 5000 years old, is impressive. One theory on the bog bodies is: "that a number of these were sacrificed, and that human sacrifice and the deposition of the victims in bogs along tribal boundaries is related to sovereignty and kingship rituals during the Iron Age." It is certainly a bit different looking at an actual person from so long ago and and considering what his life would be like. Short, brutal and ugly I would think.
