tower, a Polish neighborhood, not one but two Irish pubs, a "trad" dinner theatre, a couple of trips across the Liffey, and a valiant effort to go to gaol? Why, that would be Friday in Dublin.It was looking like rain, so we went over to the Bull and Castle, a pub we pass every time we head down Dame St but never went in until yesterday. I think it wants tourist traffic, because it felt more like an American version of an Irish pub. To wit, the menu that yielded our two lunches: onion soup followed by a beef-and-Guiness pie under puff pastry for Jo, and a chicken panini with brie and peppers for me. Not exactly traditional Irish fare. But that's not easy to find in Dublin. This is a city determined to expand the culinary horizon. And the residents (you should pardon the pun) just eat it up.
We chose a local place for lunch so that we could just go across the street to see "Dublinia," a sort of interactive museum with popular appeal. Families with school-age children would love Dublinia. It was a little Disneyfied for me. Plus, my heart belongs to Georgian Dublin now and have little interest in flirting with the Vikings and the medieval folk to whom Dublinia is devoted. (But being a tart when it comes to history, I did.)
Highlights, such as they were: An interactive medieval market fair with period clothing to pick
up and look at, spices to sniff and brasses to rub. (I rubbed a papal indulgence for myself for a few pennies--one can't have too many papal indulgences.) A chance to try on chain mail. There was a character in stocks who'd only tell his story if you could hit him in the nose with balls at his exhibit. (Guess who got him to talk?) There were displays about different trades and a scene of a typical medieval kitchen. I got to help a child king of legend stay crowned. So it was interesting, if a bit over the top.
Upstairs from that was a room full of excavation finds that was very interesting. They displayed the skeletal remains of a woman they estimated to be 54 years old--pretty old in 14th century Dublin. They built up a head from the skull to show what she might have looked like, and they guessed from the condition of her jaw that she had severe dental pain most of the time. Poor lady. All the challenges of Dublin city life in the Middle Ages, and bad teeth as well. One hopes she had access to good liquor.
Other excavated goodies included household tools I like to see: pins that held cloaks in place, small iron sauce pots, itty bitty dice and gaming boards, eating utensils, that sort of thing. Every time they dig in Dublin for new construction or renovations, they find more stuff from the Vikings or the medieval city. Evidently there has been public outcry in favor of preserving whatever history turns up during construction. Dubliners like their history.
Upstairs was Wacky Viking World, or whatever they called it. Lots of fun facts about Vikings--you know, the endearing details, like the fact that they engaged in slave trading, including children. This piece of history was reinforced by inviting us to step onto the slave platform and try on the neck shackles. Can't beat that for family entertainment, eh? Another fun fact: Vikings gathered moss to use as toilet paper. Apparently some archeologists discovered it. How they figured that out after a thousand years, what with biodegradability being what it is, I do not know. The exhibit pointed out the the Vikings weren't a tough sell on Christianity because they had so many other gods going that one more didn't seem that big a deal. There was an amusing piece of jewelry (well, amusing to me)--a Christian cross pendant featuring one of the Norse gods smiling in the middle. Hey, it worked for them. But even though I can understand the huge impact the Vikings made on Ireland, they just don't sing to me, y'know?
A cool exhibit at Dublinia is one that you walk into and then realize where you are: on the deck of a 13th century merchant sailing ship, dockside at Wood Quay. Those were some small ships. Jeez. They had no comforts whatsoever--no toilets, no beds, little food. Just cargo, sailors and rats. (And to think Jo and I felt put upon by not getting chaises in a good location on a cruise once.)
The whole Dublinia extravaganza is housed in what used to be (and probably still is) St. Michael's Church. (I may be making that up, but I think I'm right.) Before we left, I persuaded Jo to climb St. Michael's tower with me, and we had some nice views of Dublin from there. She is a good sport.
At the end of Dublinia, we were released into a long stone corridor that turned out to be the connecting arch/bridge to Christ Church Cathedral, that architectural element being added by the Victorians who had a fondness for things medieval. The stained glass was pretty, and it was cool to look out over the street from inside the arch.There was some kind of television production underway at Christ Church, so we didn't go in. I saw the cathedral when I first got to Dublin, but Jo hasn't been inside yet. The choir performances at Christ Church and St. Patrick's, down the road, get broadcast at holiday time. On Friday nights, there is church bell rehearsal. For a long time. A lot of bell ringing. Across from our flat. Ding dong ding dong. Bells, bells, bells.
OK, so feeling a little punchy after Dublinia, we went around to the entrance again and took our pictures. See for yourself. I think I look like Joan d'Arc, if Joanie was in her early 50s and wore lip gloss. I think Jo looks like she'd rather be touring Cooperstown.
And then we went walking toward Killmainham Gaol, where lots of Dublin history happened,
particularly with the rebellion guys. We passed St. Auden's church (more holy real estate of the vintage variety), where there were flowers that might have been primroses blooming (but I could be making that up, and Lar will correct me) and then saw the Brazen Head pub (oldest in Dublin). And that's when we knew we were going in the wrong direction. And that's also when I started cursing the confusing street layout in city centre, and the map that had sent me in the wrong direction more than once. Arrrgggh. But we corrected our course and walked on. And on. And on. And the neighborhood changed, and there was Polish being spoken all around us, and I thought, holy crap, we've walked all the way to Warsaw.But it was just another part of Dublin. There are SO many Poles in Dublin that I imagine empty streets with tumbleweeds in Warsaw. But not just Poles--there are so many people from other places here. Each city block has shops selling goods, especially food, specific to each of the different cultures. Amazing that they all come here.
It was getting a little dark by the time we realized the Killmainham Gaol was not in the vicinity. I asked a couple of people on the street if they knew where it was, but none spoke English and/or knew what I was talking about. Jo remained calm, but I was getting cranky, so I went into a fish and chips take-away place and asked the most Irish looking of the counter staff about the Gaol. She said it was another 30 minutes down the road, not around the corner. Our map fooled us again. Jo and I had a sidewalk summit and turned ourselves around to go back to the flat. When fatigue and darkness set in, good intentions are not always enough.
A few hours later, we were spiffed up (a little) and heading back out, this time across the Liffey to the Arlington Hotel, where John Nolan had arranged for the SRU group to meet for a dinner show of Irish traditional music and dancing. The Arlington has a big pub/disco upstairs and a big pub/dinner hall downstairs. Popular with tourists. We were seated at a long table with a good view of the stage and were fed a nice dinner We both had leek soup, salmon w/ boiled veg and mash, and a dessert plate with three mini pastries, all served by staff who were from someplace other than Ireland. Throughout dinner, an Irish trio played guitar and banjo and sang. The guys made good music, and there was considerable singalonging. (By this point, I know, if not all the lyrics, then at least the choruses to Molly Malone, Whiskey in the Jar, and The Fields of Atherny, as required for any visitor to Ireland.)
Everybody now:
Alive, alive-oh
Alive, alive-oh
Singing cockles and mussels
Alive, alive-oh
After dinner there was a burst of big flashy music and lights for Irish dancing that was OK but a little cheesy, intended to please the Michael Flatley lovers in attendance. (Flatley is from, like, Chicago or somewhere equally non-Irish.) One of the SRU girls bravely volunteered to dance with them in an audience participation number. And then the singers came back. I liked them better. I like trad Irish music.
There is photographic evidence of the evening's activities, but I can't find it at the moment. I'll look for the pix tomorrow to include here.
So when that was over, we walked back through the Temple District and cut over to Dame St toward the flat, dodging all the drunken fools wandering the city on a Friday night. Lots of alcohol consumption here, with bands of mostly young men staggering around from pub to pub, making noise and vomiting in the street. Maybe that's why there are street and sidewalk cleaning vehicles always on the move here. The Irish recently banned indoor smoking in public places, so now people spill out of the pubs (and every other building) to smoke, and whenever you pass the entrance to a pub (and you do that a lot in Dublin), you have to get out of the way of burning cigs and all the smoke that comes from them. Matters not that cigs are about 8 euros a pack (one euro is about $1.20) and that they come with big warnings on the package saying, "Smoking kills." There are smokers everywhere. It's hard to walk down the sidewalks, which tend to be very narrow, without dodging smokers and, later in the evening, drinkers. Maybe I'm more sensitive and critical because I'm a former smoker. But jeez louise, it is a nuisance. I suppose I should be thankful that no one empties chamber pots from the second story windows anymore. At least, I don't think they do.
So the day that started out with tea and quietude in a Georgian state of mind gave way to the Vikings and medieval Dublin, then detoured through little Warsaw, then dipped into traditional Irish music and dancing, then brought us back to the streets of 21st century Dublin again. No wonder we're tired!
Saturday is Kilkenny. Tune in next time...
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