Notes from Ireland II
Monday Night: Headed up to Christ Church area to try restaurant near there. It turned out to be much too expensive, so we instead went down to the River Liffey and visited the Brazen Head pub, supposedly the oldest in Dublin (this pub was founded in the 1750's, but a pub had been on the location since 1172). The pints were expensive, and the food mediocre. Mrs. Datanerd and I decided to have our own pub crawl, hitting every one on the list from the Top Ten: Dublin guide. Of course, the Brazen Head was on this list as well, so I suppose it was the triumph of hope over experience.
First stop: The Stag's Head pub, just off Dame Street. Every guidebook said, "Look for the mosaic in the sidewalk by the alley." The mosaic in the sidewalk on Dame Street was not to be found. Instead, after walking back and forth several times, we cut down South Great George’s Street and down a small street from there to find it. A wonderful pub, mainly locals, lots of dark wood and mirrors, and a large dead animal (The eponymous Stag) above the bar. Had a pint here, then decided to move on.
We walked further up South Great George's Street to the Long Hall. This bar's claim to fame is the "Longest Bar in Dublin". I didn’t bring my tape measure, but I can attest that it was very long. Beautiful Victorian décor, slowly, gracefully going to seed. Big archways across from the bar to the wall, dividers, and clocks, all done up in black, gold, and red. This place was all locals except us. This is what I travel for, to get away from people like me. Another pint or two here, then we wobbled home.
Tuesday: Busy. Went shopping first. The prices at the butcher's shop were comparable to what we pay at the Safeway. Walked through a couple of shopping malls and pedestrianized streets that were turned into shopping districts. It’s interesting that the Dublin city center has shopping malls. Not sure how many large cities support shopping in the city center like that.
Then we walked back across the river to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells and the old Library. The Book of Kells was a monk's copy of the four gospels from the 900's, complete with gold leaf and ornate drawings. Mrs. Datanerd was teary-eyed, and not just from the parchment mites. Commented that the cataloging system for the old library was horrible. Had lunch at another good pub, Doheny and Nesbitt. Then another pub, McDonough's I think. Mrs. D. chatted with one of the patrons, got some ideas for other pubs to try. We’ve past the halfway mark on our top 10 pubs to try.
Next was the National Museum, detailing the history and archaeology of Ireland. Vikings spent a lot of time here, and founded/contributed to founding Dublin. I wouldn't have thought of that, but then again that's why we go to museums. Also, lots of gold artifacts. Gold? In Ireland? Apparently so. They even had a gold rush in the late 1700’s. And people keep finding artifacts when they plow, when they dig, and when they cut up peat in the peat bogs. The peat bogs apparently are great preservatives. Whole mummified people have been found in them from thousands of years ago.
We then went back to the apartment, by way of the bar of the Oliver St. John Gogarty. A quick pint of Guinness for me, and Bulmer's Cider for Mrs. D. After a brief rest, I hiked from there to see how far it was to Connolly train station. Too far to walk in the rain. I’ll get a cab in morning.
Dinner Tuesday evening consisted of Mussels and Chips at the Porter House. And porter. Mrs. D. had the grilled salmon sandwich.
Wednesday: Our trip to Northern Ireland began in the rain. We left the apartment at 6:30 AM for Connolly station and the train to Belfast. Met our minder/escort/guide, Eddie, at the station, and boarded the Enterprise service to Belfast at 7:15. The diesel-powered trains were a gift from the EU in 1997, to facilitate cross-border cooperation and commerce. We were the only two people on the tour this day, and so we received his full attention. Train was about half-full with bleary-eyed, slightly damp people heading north.
The countryside north of Dublin is beautiful. The rain cleared, and we saw some of the coastline, tidal flats and the like, and started to feel like we were getting closer to the "real" Ireland. We were told about the old military towers along the coast, called Martello towers, built to defend against a Napoleonic invasion. And the much more modern British observation towers that dot the border of the Republic and Northern Ireland, containing communications eavesdropping equipment. In a lighter vein, we discussed our favorite pub stops and drinks, and Eddie gave us his recipe for "hot whiskey", made with whiskey, a little sugar, slice of lemon, cloves, and hot water.
We arrived Belfast and grabbed a handful of pounds sterling from the ATM, and walked quickly to join another group on a tour bus. We were the only Americans. Most of the other people were Scottish, Welsh, with a few French and a Hungarian family. Toured through the Glens of Antrim, seaside towns on the Irish Sea. Beautiful coast, rocky, some beaches. Waves pounding in from the wind blowing in off the sea. Partly cloudy skies. We stopped in two or three towns, and had a pub lunch in one. Then, on to the Giant's Causeway, a formation of mostly hexagonal basalt columns that descend into the Irish Sea. Walked out as far as I could before they got slippery, and took pictures looking out to sea and in to land. We spent an hour there. It started to rain a little just as we got on the bus.
We headed to the Old Bushmills Distillery. The distillery has been licensed to produce whiskey since 1608, and was probably doing it before that. Saw all the stages of the whiskey making, from the grinding of the grain and making the mash, to the three copper pot stills used in the triple-distillation process, to the filling of old bourbon and sherry casks for aging. Mrs. D. and I elected to be whiskey tasters. We compared blended Irish Whiskey with Bourbon and Scotch, and Malt Irish Whiskey with Single Malt Scotch. Afterward, we received our certificate and a glass of 12 year old Bushmills Reserve, a very fine whiskey that gives top shelf Scotch some competition.
We disposed of the last of our pounds sterling in the gift shop (had one penny left) and got back on the bus. Getting back on the bus, one of the old Welsh women said "He's one of the tasters, he's drunk!" There were strange-looking cows, brown-black with a white band around their middle, in a field near the distillery. Upon commenting, we were told by a Scottish lady that they were Belted Galloway cows. Mrs. D. likes to think that they were the inspiration for Oreos.
The bus rushed us back to Belfast Central Station. We entered the train station at 6:08 PM, with the Enterprise scheduled to leave at 6:10 PM. Ran to the platform and jumped on the train. Sat down. And waited. Train finally left around 6:25 PM. Because of a commuter train breakdown in the North, our train serviced a bunch of commuter stations. Then there were signal problems in the Republic. Apparently Dublin had been hammered by thunderstorms all day. We didn't arrive until after 9:00 PM. Took a taxi back to Temple Bar in the rain, ending the day as we started. Went to Fitzsimmons for dinner and entertainment. Had Guinness pie and a Smithwick’s for dinner as Irish dancers kicked over our heads. Mrs. D. had salmon and pasta dish and a Bulmer's. Began to fade around 10:00, and managed to get back to the apartment before I fell asleep.
Thursday morning, we went to Dublin Castle. Unfortunately, the parliament was in session and so we couldn't tour the Castle itself. (In Ireland, the prime minister is called the Taoiseach (pronounced TEE-shook), a Gaelic word for chieftain.) So, we walked around the grounds and a small church there in the castle, then headed for Christ Church Cathedral. Beautiful building, huge, took so long to build that the architectural style changed and parts of the building are in different styles.
Lunch was smoked salmon salad at a brewpub. The brewpubs we've been to have excellent beer, probably because of plenty of local competition. Good smoked salmon in Ireland as well. We went on a bus tour of the south coast. Unfortunately, we didn't get to stop and photograph anything. Afterwards, Mrs. D. and I hit the Dublin Woolen Mills shop and I bought her an Aran handknit sweater.
Thursday afternoon, I finished writing up my notes and headed to the internet café to check e-mail, send these home, and check to see if Friday’s flights on Aer Lingus would be affected by the one-day Thursday strike by the flight attendants. Went to an internet café I had used before, with a blue sign with a yellow 'e' on it. Typed up all of my notes, then went to e-mail them. Their internet connection died. Tried again, same result. Muttering from other users. The attendant kept saying "One more minute". Then "Five more minutes". I had to meet Mrs. D. for dinner, so reluctantly I deleted my typed notes and made to leave. I was stopped by the attendant, and told I had to pay for my time. Even though I hadn’t gotten to actually do anything I needed to. Argued with him that I hadn’t been able to do what I needed to do because of the breakdown, he told me I had "been there long time, 80 minutes, I give you one five minutes discount, you must pay!" Wrong, I’d only been there 30 minutes before your fucking connection went tits up. I finally gave up figuring 2 euro wasn't enough to get agitated about, and instead I’ll badmouth them on-line. So if you're in Dublin, in Temple Bar, do not use the internet café which is on Fownes Street between Temple Bar Square and Dame Street with a blue sign with a yellow 'e'.
Note that this is the only time I felt taken advantage of because I was a tourist. Every other time, people were nice to us and went out of their way for us. People like the bus driver in the north who rushed to get us back to Belfast on time, and Eddie, our Railtour escort on the train. The Galway city tour guide who told us she’d be sure not to leave Salthill without us on the last tour of the day. The hotel clerk at Brennan’s Yard Hotel in Galway who took care of our luggage when we arrived hours ahead of schedule. Mark, the bartender at the Guinness Storehouse who took time to teach me how to pull the perfect pint of the black stuff. The taxi driver who stopped for me to get change. And countless bartenders and waitresses throughout the country.