When I woke up in the morning on Thursday, I could feel that the left side of my throat was tight and burned a little. This is not a good sign. I am actually quite betrayed that I got sick. I was fastidious in my cleanliness, washing hands often, using hand sanitizer when necessary, taking Airborne every day, and wearing my patient x medical mask while riding on the bus. And while all my comrades in arms were falling at my sides, I, ever the vigilant, ever the healthy, remained well. Until the absolute end of my trip. I lay in bed lamenting my poor luck, and decided that at least it was better to be sick at the end of the trip than at any other time. And with my free weekend coming up, it would give me an excuse to just laze around and catch up on blogging. Silver linings, people. Sore throats, but also silver linings.
Since I did not feel too unwell yet, Lauren and I resolved to tour the museums and things that we had yet to see. Our pair of boys were off on the Game of Thrones bus tour, so we were two girls flying solo in the big city. Our first stop was the General Post Office, the GPO. I took a few pictures of the outside, for this was the place where the Easter Rising of 1916 based their headquarters. There were still a few bullet holes visible in the columns outside. All of Dublin went up in flames and gun fire as the English waged war for three or four days against the several Irish rebel outposts. Each were systematically taken, but I believe the GPO was the last. It was where people like Eamon de Valera, Michael Collins, Padraig Pearse and James Connelly were holed up, fighting for the freedom they were so desperate to earn for Ireland. Padraig Pearse read the Irish Proclamation of Independence just outside the GPO. If I can make it happen, I would very much like to come back to Ireland for the centennial of the Rising. I don't know if I will live to see the 300th anniversary of America's Independence, and honestly, if I do, I will be far too old to enjoy it animatedly, but by God, in a year and a half I will be more than capable of celebrating with the Irish.
After our quick stop at the GPO, which is still a working post office, and thus rather uninteresting on the inside, we headed to Butler's across the street. Butler's is delightful, and I think I have already talked about their superior peppermint white mocha. It was a bit of a sugar rush first thing in the morning, but so smooth and rich. I highly recommend Butler's. Lauren bought some chocolate for her mother, and we continued on.
The National Museum of Ireland, Military and Decorative Arts (interesting combo) was quite far west, so our walk was rather long. As usual, it was a bit brisk first thing in the morning, but by the time we were nearing the museum, we both shed our coats and sweaters. At the very last second, we consulted a map on the tourist bus stop pole, but we needn't have bothered, because our destination was on the very next block, and would have been very hard to miss. It was once a military facility, and was quite large, with a spacious courtyard, and large and obvious markings. Happily, it had taken us a while in arriving, because the museum opened at ten, and we walked in at nearly exactly ten o'clock.
Inside, we found a fabulous exhibit on the 1916 rebellion. Much like Leta has said, and I think every teacher says, it takes at least three repetitions for information to really sink in. So I have read Malachy McCourt's History of Ireland, I have read Ireland by Frank Delany. I was in Dublin for five days and went to Kilmainham Goal to learn about the jail and also the uprising. I have been all over this country. I have listened to Ken Harper talk about the founding of the Republic, I have heard Gabriel talk about the birth of his nation. So by the time I passed through this exhibit, I was extremely familiar with the content. It was a really great finish for me, because by now, I know everyone's roll in the events, I can recognize their faces, and I really liked knowing that my understanding is so much deeper than I could have thought. I counted, and from the time I was accepted on this trip, in April, I think, I have not stopped obsessing about this country. It has been my private passion and anticipation and expectation have consumed me. For nearly six months, Ireland was all I could talk about, all I wanted to read about. The 1916 exhibit was but one largish room, but it felt like a culmination.
The rest of the museum was quite large and interesting. I think we walked backward through the exhibit on the Irish at war. Where we walked in was the modern Irish military, which has apparently had a rather large presence in Syria and Lebanon for a few decades. Moving backward in time, there was information on the world wars, more information on the 1916 uprising, and all the myriad of wars that the English sent the Irish to go fight. "Oh, is it cold in Canada? We'll send the Irish." "Hmm, fighting in the rugged, malaria infested jungles of Africa? We'll send the Irish." The only war that the Irish seemed to miss was the American War for Independence, which the English seemed to feel obligated to fight for themselves. I think that was probably a smart decision, since the Irish would have probably joined with the Americans anyway. At the very end (beginning) of that exhibit was a section on fighting the Vikings. By that time, Lauren and I were all militaried out, so we found the section on decorative arts to cleanse our palates.
There were many good exhibits, including one on coins in Ireland from Vikings onward, a whole section on Irish table service silver, clothes through the ages (I had a small heart attack realizing that one day, a display of yoga pants and ugg boots may one day adorn the glass-shrouded mannequins of our history museums. "Although few young females regularly practiced yoga, the prevalence of this style of trouser was particularly important to early 21st century culture, and was the inspiration for many image-and-text-based digital photos, called "memes". Yoga pants were regarded as the greatest invention for women's posteriors since the bustle and the high heeled shoe."). There was a wing dedicated to Asian art, which I found slightly misplaced in Ireland, but what do I know. We finished by walking through a display of furniture throughout history, and by the end of our hour and a half, we were both kind of museumed out.
The walk back to the hostel felt really short, but since the hostel was roughly equidistant between the two places we had been earlier, it was appropriately only half the walk. We laid around in our beds for a bit, before collecting ourselves for lunch. On Dame Street was a place called Eddie Rocket's, which was very like Johnny Rocket's in the States. I had a slider basket, with a much needed Coke, and Lauren got a chocolate milkshake and a salad with some kind of orange chilli sauce on it. We put our 20 cent coin in the little juke box, but I don't think our song ever played (or maybe it did, but the pages were out of order, so the machine might have played a different song than we thought we selected...). Between the Thai food we have had here, and the newfound interest in chilli sauces that the Irish have, Lauren has apparently been expanding her tolerance for spicy food. I have a fairly good tolerance, and in fairness, the things she has been eating have been very barely spicy at all. We had a nice little lunch, and I broke my 50 euro bill and paid for us both. She would pay me back later.
Our next stop was to see about going inside the Christchurch Cathedral. We walk past it extremely regularly, because the path between our hostel and Leta's hotel on Fishamble street takes us just behind the church. Interestingly, the two largest cathedrals in Ireland are both Protestant. After Catholicism was banned in Ireland (1500s? approx.), the most prominent and remaining cathedrals were Protestant instead. This includes the other big church in Dublin, St. Patrick's Cathedral, which is sort of ironic for it's Protestantism. It cost six euro to get into the church, but we decided it was quite worth it. I have many pictures of the inside, and the only one I regret not taking was one of the sculpture of Strongbow. Strongbow, the Earl of Pembroke, whose last name I think was Fitzgerald, was an Anglo-Norman invader who came in 1107, and who is regarded as the catalyst English person to begin the 800 years of English domination over Ireland. He was actually brought in by an Irishman (MacDermott? Something like that.) to join his fight against another Irish high king. Little did he know with whom he was allying, I suppose.
The other thing I regret was that we did not go down the stairs to see the catacombs. Since the sign said cafe and gift shop, and we were neither parched nor looking for anymore trinkets, we didn't take a look. I realized later, upon reading the pamphlet more thoroughly, that there were several very cool points of interest down there. For instance, a cat and mouse that got stuck in the pipe organ, presumably chasing one another, and were mummified. That would have been a pretty good stop. But alas, I suppose it is a call back, and I will just have to come visit again. Luckily, Dublin has more than enough surprises, for when I come back.
I forget exactly why we went back to the hostel, but we did for just a minute, and I took the opportunity to investigate my rooming situation for the weekend. Four Courts had a bed in an all girls room for both Saturday and Sunday night for 40 euro, and I realized that that would probably be my best offer on such short notice, so I booked it. I feel quite comfortable here, so it should be find. Since we had nearly 2 hours until we met the group for dinner, we both grabbed books and headed back to the Cathedral to sit in the grass. I took a slight detour to the chemist for some cough drops. They had nothing like a Halls or a Ricola, and I was slightly distressed by their lack of decent lozenges. There was nothing that was just soothing, it all came with some kind of medicine in it. Interestingly, the boxes were embossed with braille, and I wonder if it is the same braille system that we use in America. I mean, sign languages are similar but dialectically different across even just the English speaking world, so I wouldn't be surprised if it is the same for braille. But I don't know why you would need multiple systems of lettering. But I also don't know what governing body could dictate which system to use. I also noticed that the only variety of condoms (because throat lozenges belong next to condoms) that they sell here is a brand called Durex. Which does not sound nearly as sexy as Trojan or Magnum. It sounds like a brand of bleach, or a rain slicker. Although I suppose condoms are just tiny rain slickers anyway.
Sitting in the grass was a fabulous decision. It was beautifully sunny but not hot, and the grass was cool but dry. We sat half in the sun and half in the shade, which gave us a great spot for 360 degree people watching. She immediately set down to reading, but I was slightly more restless. I stared at the sky for a while, I tried to find a good pub for music in the Rick Steves' book, I looked at that orange cat (the one who was stalking birds all those weeks ago), I watched an old man very peculiarly walk out of his way to walk around Lauren and I, I consulted the travel book again, and found that my search for how are you in Irish would have been much shorter if I had asked Rick. A group of students came and sat near us, and we spent quite a bit of time trying to discern their origin and age. I think we determined that they were 15 or 16 year olds, possibly from Germany or the Netherlands, with an English woman as their guide. I finally settled into reading a little Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and I think I am getting into the swing of his stream of consciousness style. At the very beginning, there is a very funny incident with his classmate, where he can't figure out why he is being teased for kissing his mother good night, and whether it is wrong to kiss one's mother, and what kissing is in general. I understand why this style has been so important for the progress of literature. It is very realistic to life.
As it got chilly, right before dinner time, we retired to the parlor of Leta's hotel to wait for the others to congregate. We walked as a group sans the Game of Thrones crew, to Toscana for dinner. Every single restaurant in Ireland requires going up stairs. This restaurant was quite novel in that instead we had to go downstairs. Because nothing is ever one floor in this country. It was rather tight in the veritable wine cellar where they stuck us, but the food and service were absolutely delicious. I had more bruschetta to start, which was extremely good, and a cannelloni, which I thought would be more like pasta and sauce, but was more like giant pasta tubes with meat inside and sauce. Regardless, it was delicious. I have been quite dedicated to my mission of not overeating anymore while I am here, so I did not finish all of it. It was quite hot by the time everyone had gotten their food, and the Game of Thrones bunch of five appeared just as I was finishing. Since I had not ordered dessert, I decided to leave, to make room for everyone else, and because I was sick and hot. Walking through the city is generally very pleasant, and the walk past the church is not very hazardous. I am, however, fairly confident that I saw a small time drug deal though. So, you know, I'm alive, don't worry.
I hung out in the hostel for a bit, until everyone else arrived. Lauren and I gathered Dale, and went in search of music. O'Shea's Merchant, right near the hostel, was promised as a good spot, but was completely dead when we arrived at 9:30. We hightailed it for Temple Bar Square instead, and were rather disappointed that nothing traditional seemed to be playing. It was a Thursday night, but I would think that would lend its self to more traditional music than not. We eventually stepped into The Temple Bar, but the guys playing were very inexperienced, and couldn't get their sound set up correctly (too much guitar, not enough banjo or accordion or vocals.). Dale was still vaguely sick, and I was coming down with it and eating cough drops like candy, and Lauren was not upset when we decided to throw in the towel.
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