IRISH Eyes Are Smilin'

Castle Ruins at Wicklow, along the Irish Sea.

A local church in the town of Wicklow, 'the garden of Ireland'
John Locke in Trinity College Library

Christ Church Cathedral
The Dublin Marathon with 12,000 runners

Dublin, Ireland

My flight from London to Dublin was earlier than my three traveling roommates, so I left our quaint hotel near Notting Hill at 3:30am. I had called a taxi service the night before to pick me up at that hour in order to catch the airport shuttle at 4:10 and my flight at 6:30. As I stood in the early morning cold a taxi dropped a man off across the street and began to drive away. It was already 3:35am and my taxi had still not shown up, so I chased that taxi yelling as loud as I could with tired eyes and a groggy voice. Fortunately, I made all of my connections on time. But I still don't know if my 'real' taxi ever showed or not.

My friends were not due to arrive in Dublin until 6pm that night. So I had all day to wander the city on my own. It was a nice change after the hectic schedule we had made for ourselves in London. First, I dropped my luggage off at our hostel. Then I found a coffee shop and had a mocha and a muffin. The shop owners were originally from somewhere in the Middle East. I have found that the UK is full of people from all over the world, as opposed to Italy who tends to keep its nationality closed to foreigners.

After my breakfast I wandered the streets and looked at the Dublin Castle from afar (it wasn't that impressive) and the many pubs that lined the street. At Christ Church Cathedral I was allowed to go inside only because a service was about to start. It would be a half an hour before it began, so I sat down and listened to the Irish chior practice. It was beautiful. I thought about staying longer, but the bells ringing outside reminded me of the other parts of the city I had still not seen.

Dublin is a very windy city; all day the wind swirled around my head tangling my curls and drying out my contacts. A few times it rained--it was a mist, really. But the wind blew my umbrella inside out while I stood waiting in line to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College Library. The entire exhibit was layed out well. The first two rooms had panels describing the history of the book, the materials used, the monk scribes who made it, and other displays of similar books of that time. The Book of Kells consists of the four gospels written in Latin. It was written in a particular font and decorated with intricate drawings by the scribes who lived on the island of Iona (off the coast of Scotland) in memory of Saint Columba. Every day a page in the book is turned, therefore, visitors will experience different stories and pictures in the gospels. The day I was there John 7:44-8:7 and Luke 23:51-24:1 were displayed. After the Book of Kells, visitors could tour the old library. Inside the long corridor lined with books were busts of many great men over the centuries. John Locke was among them. I snuck a photo :) The library was amazing; it smelled of musky dust and leathery bindings.

Later in the day I browsed some shops and bought a few souvenirs. I ate lunch at Bewley's Oriental Cafe. It doesn't serve oriental food, rather, it has some good Irish food. I had a bowl of soup with bread and a Bulmer's Irish Cider. It warmed me right up. At lunch I began a conversation with three older Americans who were sitting near me. To my surprise, they were in Dublin for the marathon that would take place the following day. I thought of my dad in that moment and the summer we spent running and rowing (he ran, while I rowed). I suppose 'running a marathon' is making everyone's 'To Do Before I Die' list these days. This was their first International Marathon. I enjoyed talking with them, but it also made me miss home even more so.

After my late lunch I strolled through St. Stephen's Park. On my way out I asked an older gentleman to take my photo on the bridge. After a few tries, he finally got the hang of it. Then he told me that when he was a boy living in Dublin in the early 40s someone blew up the statue of King William of Orange on a horse in the middle of the park. As he walked away at his normal, but hurried pace, I saw Dublin through his eyes. What must it be like to have lived in one city his entire life? What changes in Dublin has he seen over the decades?

At dinner my friends and I met up. We ate Tapas at a Spanish restaurant, then went to an Irish pub for drinks and music, then to an Italian sweets shop for dessert. We ate around the world that night! The Irish pub was quite an experience. People crowded into the small room with music, clinging to their beers and singing along to the very Irish lyrics. It was so much fun. An Irish lad named Barry came over and talked to us for awhile. We thought he was pretty brave to come up to talk to four American girls who kind of made a semi-circle around themselves. But I suppose we had 'tourist' written all over us with our cameras out and our hesitant sips of the dense beers given to us. It was great fun. But I'm still not a fan of beer; it tastes nasty!

The next day we ventured out of the city and into the country. We had to see the Irish rolling hills. We took a bus from Dublin to a little town called Wicklow. It is also the place where the Wicklow Mountains National Park is and the filming location of the movie, P.S. I Love You. Yes, we are a tadbit obsessed with that love story :) The village is near the Irish Sea, so it was even more so windy than in Dublin. Actually, while we were climbing the edge of the cliffs along the ruins of an ancient castle, we had to be careful not to lose our balance. Otherwise the wind would lift us up and over and into the sea below. The contrast of the pale blue sky and the deep blue water with the wet green grass had all of us lost in thought. Ireland is truly breathtakingly beautiful. And its turbulent history makes it even more so interesting. We walked back into town along the river running from the sea. Fishing boats lined the canal and the stench of fish resided under the wind. It reminded me of the summer my family spent in New England. Wicklow had that 'New Englander feel' or perhaps it is New England that has an Irish feel? :)

Next stop, Edinburgh, Scotland (my personal favorite)