Dublin, Pt. 2

After hitting the town on Thursday night, a pub in the Temple Bar area of Dublin—just a few blocks from the hostel we stayed in, Barnacles—named for the somewhat obscure writer Oliver St. John Gogarty, we embarked on the aforesaid excursions looking at the government of Ireland. This post, however, needs to cover what happened the rest of Friday and all of Saturday.

After the tour of Parliament ended, the group meandered about the immense and green campus of Trinity College. Large green fields separate the ancient buildings, and there seem to be more tourists than actual students walking between them. The famous Trinity College Library hosts the Book of Kells, an expertly marketed tourist destination; outside the library people took pictures of all kinds and queued up to see a few pages of the book. I regret, in some sense, not having seen it; perhaps I will get back to Dublin before the trip is over. Anyway, a small coterie of us did visit another library, the National Library, which featured—much to my joy—a splendid exhibit on Yeats. If I had to pick a favorite poet, which of course is a difficult exercise, I would have to pick Yeats. The exhibit featured many of Yeats poetry in its original handwritten form; corrected manuscripts; items from his childhood; first editions of books; and interactive Yeats computer programs.

Stephen, the one Irish student in our program, and I went around to a few music shops and then to Christchurch Cathedral. We eventually met back up with the group and proceeded to dinner at a restaurant outside of Temple Bar. That was nice, in a way, since Temple Bar is infused with tourists. After dinner we returned and several of us hit up the night life, stopping outside the post office on O'Connell street, where the proclamation declaring Ireland independent in 1916 was the harbinger of another round of horrible violence.

The next morning, thankfully not too early, we headed out to Kilmainham jail, the site of the infamous executions of the leaders of the 1916 uprising—14, to be precisely, at the spot marked with a tiny black cross amid a field of gravel. Nearby, a single Irish flag flapped in the wind. A haunting sight/site. After that, we proceeded to the Brazenhead—the oldest surviving pub in the world, founded in 1198—for lunch, and then made our separate ways back home, but not before stopping again at Christchurch. This time I spent more time, taking more photos of more things, and noted that the famous Norman Knight Strongbow was buried there, chilling by the side of the rows of chairs.

Limerick was sunny upon returning: the first time I have seen it so (by the way: the count is now up to 6). The weather is somewhat more cloudy today, but still better, it seems, than it has been. Last night we saw "Die Hard 4.0," whose name apparently changes abroad because "Live Free or Die Hard" would be lost on international moviegoers. It was interesting to see the Irish reaction: what they found funny, etc. Even before the credits rolled several people already started piling out, and upon our exiting the attendants were already in the theater, primed to clean up. Given that the movie theaters, beside the pubs/restaurants, are the only things open after 5 p.m., apparently those working there are interested in getting home as soon as possible.

Due to geography, the sun doesn't set here until about 10:30. The sky, upon the setting, seemed to have a richer blue color—as if all the green of the surrounding landscape were being partially reflected in the firmament. Given, also, the clarity, and that the movie theater sat on the highest ground of Limerick, it gave us quite a nice view on the walk back.