Eire

This weekend's destination in the Isles was the fair city of Molly Malone--Dublin, Ireland. After class wrapped up on Friday, we hurried back to the flat, finished our packing, and grabbed dinner from Pret a Manger ("pray ah man-jay", I think) and off to Heathrow on the Piccadilly line we went. The most amusing part of the trip, besides the comical retro stewardess' outfits on BMI (a Star Alliance member with USAirway hurray), was the fact that it took longer to get from our flat to Heathrow than it did Heathrow to Ireland. A bit of confusion about my switched ticket, and off we went--with sandwiches and drinks no less, despite the 45 min flight time. From Dublin Airport we hopped one of their busses out to Busarus, the central depot, and in to the hostel (if last weekend's hostel got a B+. I think Isaacs got a C+, but I survived--both had that funky hostel smell though). The group got split, but 3 of the 4 of us were in a 6 bunk guy's room with a guy from South Africa, another from Australia, and another from presumably Ireland, but I never quite found out.

Dublin is still in the process of building a Tube-style transport system, so besides the limited service of the light rail DART (Dublin Area Regional Transport), it's busses or foot. Thankfully, Dublin felt like St. Louis to London's New York, and was amazingly smaller yet packed with history and fun times.

If there's repetition or a break in thought, it's because I'm writing the rest of this on Thursday. Everything above was written Sunday upon my return. So, anyway, we got in Friday night rather hungry. After settling in and wandering off in the wrong direction, we eventually found our way to the banks of the Liffey and Temple Bar, the nightlife area. In search of a filling (and touristy) Irish meal, we found our way to Gallagher's Boxty House. Delighted to find it in the guidebook later, I quote Rick Steves'--"a good, basic value with creaky floorboards and old Dublin ambiance. It's specialty is boxties--the generally bland-tasting Irish potato pancake filled and rolled with various meats, veggies, and sauces. Mike was delighted to partake in some corned beef, while I settled for a hearty lamb boxty. Kevin and Arnold had more of the same. We all washed it down with some thick Irish stouts (Murphy's), and an amazing toffee pudding with a Bailey's coffee. Off a recommendation from our friendly waitress, we headed out to a nice live music bar with a good cover bland playing some rock classics. Pleasantly, it was off the well travelled tourist path and filled with more local types. All in all quite a fun time.

After a short night of rest, it was up for a cold, windy, rainy day just above freezing wandering around Dublin. After brunch at a small coffee-shop, off to spend a good hour+ absorbing the Joycean atmosphere at the James Joyce center a bit off O'Connell Street. The other guys learned a bit, but they seemed to get impatient with my obsession rather quickly. Lots of great Joyce and Joyce-inspired pieces, particularly regarding the centennial of Bloom's Day.

The weather only got worse as the day dragged on. After Joyce it was a hop across the Liffey and up Grafton Street (main shopping area) and on to Trinity College and St. Stephen's Green. The college was beautiful, but we all passed up the opportunity to see the spectacular reading room and the illuminated Book of Kells. Just didn't seem worth 10 Euros to see 2 pages of a book and a library hall. From there it was time for some additional wandering over to St. Patrick's, Dublin Castle, Christchurch Cathedral and the medieval part of town. All were pleasant sites, truly quite beautiful, but the weather--barely above freezing with a hard, biting wet wind--made us all just want to run back to the hostel. The day ended with a "literary pub crawl," a tour through the milder side of Dublin's nightlife while learning about the city's rich literary heritage--of course I loved it. We learned about Joyce, Shaw, Yeats, Wilde, and others whom I regret I have forgotten.

Along the way we met some friendly American travelers also studying abroad elsewhere in Europe and spent the remainder of the night with them, returning for one last time to the bar of the night before for some more good music. Then for me it was up at 7 or so and out the door to the airport, where I amused myself on the ride back with a copy of ProCycling magazine.

I regretted having to cut the Irish trip short--the stories the rest of the group tells of county Wicklow sound amazing, but I was glad to be able to have seen a bit of Joyce's homeland--even if he only lived the earliest years of his life there and had to leave it to write about it. It was also rather interesting from a sociological standpoint to be able to observe what many now rank as the nation with the best quality of living worldwide. Ireland has come along way from its days as an English territory and impoverished backwater of the Isles. Now it is truly emerging as a stunning emerald gem, if a bit cold and wet.