Within the Pale (reflections on Dublin)

To wrap up my time in Ireland, I went to Dublin for 3 days to meet two of my cousins I haven't seen in years, and to absorb some of the culture and history of this town that has seen Viking raids, plague, famine, nationalist uprisings, and a huge literary presence.

I left Limerick on Thursday via bus, but not without mishap. My cute Russian Doll suitcase (Heys brand) was apparently not up to the task of this trip. While I was rolling it along a smooth sidewalk, the telescopic handle unceremoniously snapped off. For those of you who know me, I'm a 5'1" lady with average strength. There's no way I could have Hulk-snapped that handle off. The case came with a 5 year warranty, and I'm currently dealing with Heys to have the cost of a new suitcase covered. I'm not super optimistic though as their customer service people weren't very helpful. Fingers crossed.

I was so grateful to my cousin Áine for meeting me in Dublin at the bus station. I was tired, hungry, and upset about my suitcase, and she got me fed, helped me call the luggage company, and then acted as Sherpa by rolling my broken case up the hill to the hostel. We spent the rest of the day wandering around Dublin and popping into sites that caught our fancy. Here's some of the hilights:

Above: Áine and I in front of the main gate at St. Stephen's Green, which is kind of like the Central Park of Dublin. If one is honoured with the key to the city, that person has the right to graze their sheep on the Green. When Bono (of U2 fame) received his key to the city, he went out and bought a sheep just so he could graze it on the lawns of the park. Don't believe me? Google it. 

We popped into the Little Mesuem of Dublin (which has free entry on Thursdays) and I was overwhelmed by the exhibits. Two floors absolutely packed with items about Irish history, which is arranged chronically. When I say packed, I mean it - floor to ceiling/wall-to-wall photos, documents, snippets from the Irish Times, items of import etc. it was a bit overwhelming to take it all in, but definitely worth a visit. All of the items in the exhibits have been donated by members of the public, so it's a well-rounded museum, although not all items are catalogued with identifying info. 

One thing that caught my eye in the museum was a bust of Bram Stoker (writer of Dracula). I had no idea that he was born in Dublin, nor that some of the inspiration for his novel came from scenes around the city. 

Dublin is famous for writers - George Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde (who is probably the writer I enjoy quoting the most; I even bought a fridge magnet with this gem, "I can resist anything except temptation;") and of course, the notorious James Joyce, who has his own bronze statue on O'Connell Street. I think he looks a bit like a pimp, but you be the judge:

Speaking of O'Connell Street, it's named after Daniel O'Connell, also known as the Liberator of the Irish. He was responsible for Catholic emancipation in Ireland, as well as for founding Glasnevin Cemetery (more on that in a bit). An interesting personal connection, when I was 16, I dated the great-great-great-great-grandson of Daniel O'Connell (who also has the same name). The world is small, I tell ya. 

Pub culture is an important aspect of Irish life, and Áine wanted to take me to "Probably the smallest pub in the World" - the Dawson Lounge (photo below). A funny thing, Áine actually forgot where the pub was, but given its tiny size, it's easy to miss.

Day two: I had plans to meet up with Áine's older sister, Aisling, around 4pm, so I had some time to explore Dublin on my own. The weather didn't cooperate though, and since the line for touring the Old Jamison Distillery was over an hour long, I decided to duck into Dublinia to get out of the downpour, and to educate myself about Viking influence in Ireland.

Vikings first came to Ireland in the late 700's CE. However, they didn't actually hang around until the 900's when they wintered in Dublin to avoid the treacherous sea journey back home. A Viking ship can reach Ireland in 7 days from Norway, and it's likely the raids were due to the fact that in Nordic culture, only the eldest son could inherit from his father. This left younger brothers without much to live on, and raiding enabled them to get access to goods and also slaves to gain wealth. Dublinia is a great exhibit, and at €8, it's good value for three large floors of interactive history. The end of the Viking rule came when the Normans, with the help of Stongbow (the Welsh knight), came to conquer Ireland. It was at this point in the 11th Century that the Norman-English got a toe-hold in Ireland, centred around Dublin, which lasted until the creation of the Republic in the 1920's. 

Above: the Medaeval ages were a tough time in Ireland. These factoids about life expectancy are before the plague ever came to Ireland. Then it was really bleak.

The exhibit ends with a controversy and some bones. During the 1970's, the Dublin city council wanted to build new offices. They began digging and found Viking/Medaeval remains. The construction company wanted to go ahead with the build, but the people of Dublin took to the streets in protest over this blatant disregard of archeological importance. Eventually, a compromise was reached: archeologists had time to excavate the site and remove the remains, and the offices were built. One of the sets of bones found from the dig is on display. With DNA analysis, and artistic rendering, a bust of a Medaeval woman was created. It was amazing looking at a face that would've lived about 1,000 years ago. Fascinating stuff!

I met my cousin Aisling and we went to go see the Book of Kells on display at Trinity College.

Interesting story about Trinity College: it used to be a monastery. However, when King Henry VIII decided to reform the English church, he closed down monasteries, reclaimed their gold and stripped them of their lands. Hence trinity became a college. 

Above: me in front of the Book of Kells exhibit entrance. Can you feel the rapture?

The Book of Kells is a marvel of both typeface and illustration. Words fail to describe the intricacy of the interlocking Celtic designs scratched onto vellum. Vellum is made from calf's skin, and it's estimated that about 150 calves would have been required to source the vellum for the Book. The Book of Kells is actually four books, corresponding with the four gospels of Jesus' life. It's a wonder that the book survived given the burning of Catholic relics during both Hemry VIII and Cromwellian times. 

After seeing the book, Aisling and I had some yummy dinner in Temple Bar before heading out to a pub to enjoy a few rounds. We ended up talking for hours with a very friendly father & son duo from Pennsilvania (hi Mike & Larry!) I got up and sang a few songs with the guitarist. It was a fun night.

Day three: after checking out of my hostel, I decided that for my last day in Dublin that I would visit both the Botanical Gardens (on the advice of the owner of Cafe Canajun - a Canadian inspired cafe) and the Glasnevin Cemetry and museum.

Above: greenhouses at the Botanical Gardens, Dublin. Like something out of a romantic novel.

The Botanical Gardens are lovely. The greenhouses are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. I got lost for about an hour an a half wandering around the grounds. I was amazed to see Arbutus trees (my favourite tree) here in Ireland. It felt like a piece of home was waiting for me to find it. People had easels set up for painting around the perimeter of the dahlia garden. Dahlias of all colours, so prettily arranged! The gardens are huge, I didn't have time to take them all in, however, I absolutely adored the live sculptures of green branches woven into lovely shapes. This is my favourite:

I was able to find the exit from the gardens into the Cemetry to join the last walking tour of the day. 

Glasnevin is considered "the dead centre of Dublin" because there are more people buried in the Cemetry than are alive in Dublin today! I joined the walking tour and was privy to more Irish history - mainly focusing around the 1916 Easter Uprising and further civil war. The Republic of Ireland was bought with strife and  tears and often saw brothers fighting against each other on opposite sides of the conflict. Those were bitter years.

Two main attractions that most people come to see - Daniel O'Connell's tomb (a huge 50 foot round tower), and the grave of Micael Collins, Irish rebel war hero. The details of these two men's lives and deaths are too numerous to write here, so I'll leave you with a few photos instead:

Above: the entrance into the O'Connell crypt.

Below: O'Connel's coffin. It's considered good luck to touch the wood of the coffin (which I did).

Above: the grave of Michael Collins is constantly covered in fresh followers - brought by admirers from around the world.

Below: Grave robbing used to be a big problem in the mid1800's as it was illegal to donate one's body to science, and so cadavers for medical students. Grave robbers devised a way of removing a corpse with minimal disturbance - they would dig just behind the headstone, straight down and cut open the coffin, then pull the corpse out by stringing a noose or using a hook to pull the corpse from its resting place, then pat down the earth behind the headstone. Grave robbers were so good at their jobs, the Cemetry staff don't actually know which bodies were taken. A fresh adult corpse could fetch you 2 months wages in Ireland, 8 months wages if you could smuggle the body to Scotland! Incentive indeed for times of wide-spread famine and poverty. However, the Cemetry folk wised-up and built seven imposing towers and a thick wall around the graveyard to prevent anyone from sneaking in to steal a corpse. The guards were told to shoot anyone not supposed to be inside the walls. Here's the ironic part though, if a guard successfully shot and killed a would-be grave robber, that guard could then seal the body and claim the money!

All in all, I packed in a lot on my three day trip in Dublin! Until next time, Ireland! 

A taste of Tipperary

Yesterday I went to Tipperary - the town, a viewpoint of interest, and to visit some of my family (my father's side) in Cappawhite. In Tipp town I got some much needed pampering for my legs and feet to prepare myself for the sunnier and warmer climes of Portugal and Spain. It's been rather cold in Ireland lately, and raining. It got down to just 5 Celcius for a few nights. We've been keeping warm with cups of tea and lighting fires at night. I'm currently wrapped up in a big fluffy bathrobe right now as I type this blog entry. The weather report for the rest of the week isn't terribly encouraging, and I'm starting to wish I had brought that extra long-sleeved shirt I left behind in Calgary. Oh well.

After getting my legs and feet done, my aunt Marie drove us up to the Glen of Aherlow (pronounced "arlow") where my cousins Riah and Jodi both had their wedding receptions at Aherlow House Hotel. It's easy to see why the glen would be a great place for a wedding, just check out the view:

The views of the Galtee Mountains are just gorgeous. At the top of the hill, next an information placard about nearby mountain bike trails, is a large white statue of "Christ the King." According to the plinth explaining the history of the statue, all the glen, it's people, and any who pass through this locale are blessed by his raised hand. It was first erected in 1950, but was replaced (it doesn't say why) in 1975 with an exact replica made from Irish limestone. Thanks for the benediction, I hope I don't have anymore tumbles or accidents on my travels.

After Aherlow, we went into the village of Cappawhite, where my father - along with his 6 brothers and 2 sisters - grew up. Yep, Irish families are big! The O'Meara's have lived around this village since the 1500's and at the house at Greenfield since 1937. The house itself dates back to the 1800's and still has some items belonging to the previous owners. One item being a stuffed pheasant (see photo below) that was shot in 1910 by a fellow of the initials J.B.P. My uncle Talbot tells me that J.B.P came back to Greenfield in the 1990's to see his childhood home. He told the story to my uncle of shooting the bird, and then about going off to fight in WWI where he saw some awful atrocities. My uncle Talbot thinks he found some solace in coming back to Greenfield - I never met the man, but I hope he did too.

One of my most cherished childhood memories of Ireland happened at Greenfield. My uncle Eugene (the youngest of the 8 kids) runs the family business - a poultry farm. When I was about 10 or 11, I assisted my uncle, along with my sister Aisling, my cousins Aoife and Doireann (more points for pronounciation!) with the happy and very adorable chore of unloading 750 baby chicks into a room with heat lamps. The chicks were in cardboard crates with holes in them, and the sound of "cheep-cheep!" filled the air. I recall dipping my hands into the wriggling yellow fluffy mass and pulling out about five chicks in each hand. They were so cute! They didn't really peck at us while we unloaded them, and after they were all in the incubated room, we had to be very careful not to step on them. I'll never forget the sight, sounds, and feel of all those fluffy chicks for as long as I live.

Above: a side of one of the old poultry keeps with nasturtiums planted by my uncle Talbot. 

Below: a selfie taken outside the back door of the kitchen at Greenfield.

It was great to see my cousins Aoife and Evan. I can recall holding Evan as a baby, and now he's 21 and studying to become a teacher. Gah, I feel old! It was good to talk with my aunt Anne and my uncle Eugene as well and was happy that we were able to all meet up.

I had high hopes of going into Limerick today to visit King John's Castle, but with the rain and blustery winds...I don't know. It's a good day to do laundry and read a book. 

Tomorrow I leave for Dublin via bus for two days and two nights. I'm hoping to meet up with some more cousins that I haven't seen since I was very young (maybe only eight years old). It would be good to have someone to walk around Dublin with though, as I don't know the city well and it has a bit of a rough reputation. I'll print off a map today though and try to orient myself. 

Once I leave here tomorrow, I'll be truly on my own as I have no friends or family in either Portugal or Spain. But I do have a plan, and I have hostels booked up until October 24, so things should work out ok. I'm feeling pretty confident about the next leg of my journey. I can feel how healing it has been for me to take a break from my life and see my family in Ireland. I'm hoping more healing comes when I hit the continent and begin the exploration of new sites and cultures that will challenge me and open me up to what life has to offer. Wish me luck on this next stage of my journey, and say a prayer that I don't take anymore tumbles! 

Cork - The Rebel County, Part 1

County Cork is the home of my mom. When my brother, sister and I were small, she would take us back to Ireland each summer so that we would know our roots, our cousins, and to give her a chance to reconnect with her friends and family. My first time to Ireland, I was just six months old. I continued to go to Ireland each year until I turned 13. Then I went back 13 years later and wow, what a difference. Ireland's years as an economic force (known as the Celtic Tiger) really showed. So much development around the country, and a more cosmopolitan population base. It's been eight years since I've been back, and with the global economy on the downturn, Ireland's reputation as the tiger softened. 

I wanted to come back to visit my family, and in particular, my cousin Eibhlis (points if you can pronounce her name) whom I've been corresponding via letters since we were both 10 years old. Our correspondence has been going strong for over 20 years now! I'm fairly certain that both of us still have all our letters over the years, if scattered about in many boxes around our respective homes. Eibhlis offered to put me up for about a week and to take me around Cork to see the sites. I think she enjoyed playing tourist in her own city, as we did things she's never done before :)

Day one we went into Cork city for lunch and to the English Market. We had a very tasty meal in a creperie that is new to the city. Their savoury crepes are made with buckwheat and are very filling. Highly recommended if you're in Cork and love crepes (I know I do!)

Walking around the streets of Cork is a pleasure. It was bustling for a Monday afternoon. You can see the spires of Saint Finbar's (local patron saint) from almost anywhere.

After some errands, we trudged up the hill to St Ann's Anglican Church in Shandon, where you can play the bells and get a fantastic view of a Cork below. The church gives you protective earmuffs as the bells are so loud when climbing up to the viewing deck. I got to play "When the Saints Go Marching In" and Eibhlis played "Freire Jacques." We were complimented on our playing by other visitors, and Eibhlis looked over at me slyly and reminded me that the whole city could hear us play! 

 

 

Here is the church bell tower, and below I'm playing the bells for all of Cork to hear.

After playing the bells, we headed to the Cork City Gaol (or jail). This gaol was in operation in the 19th century until it closed in 1923. The gaol was for petty criminals who's crimes ranged from drunkeness in public to fraud. Often, poor folk would try to land themselves in this gaol because they were guaranteed to have a roof over their heads, two meals a day, and access to a doctor. Being imprisioned was preferable to life on the streets during the famine years. The gaol still has all the records from when it was in operation, so the guided tour was fascinating - real stories of real people. A few tales stand out: a woman who had been incarcerated 57 times for public drunkeness and beating her children was sentenced to hard labour of breaking rocks for 8 hours a day with no break; the 8 year old pickpocket who was flogged so hard so that his scars would serve as a reminder not to steal (he was only in the prison once thank goodness); and of course, the Irish Republican Nationals from the war of independence (1916 - 1923) as the gaol (and the country) was run by the English. 

One funny note of interest, the Govenor of the prison did not want to live inside the prison like the rest of the guards and their families, so he had a tunnel built under the prison and across to where his house was. If any senior justice officials would be seen approaching the prison, he would scurry through the tunnel back inside the prison. Eventually an inspector discovered the tunnel, and ordered it to be collapsed. To date, it is the only prison tunnel in the world not built by a convict trying to escape! 

Here is a sketch done by one of the Irish Republicans on the wall of a cell. There are names and ranks of the IRA written and scratched into the walls of the cells. The Republicans were all released in 1923 and the gaol was closed. This gaol is fascinating place and well worth the visit!