Dublin

I got up and headed downstairs for my last communal breakfast in Belfast. I met a few new arrivals and was brutally reminded of my age when the hit song Through the Fire by Chaka Khan came on the radio and the youngins had no idea what it was nor who was singing.

I then packed up, said my goodbyes and strolled down to the bus station ensconced within the Europa Hotel. Two hours and ten minutes later, my bus dropped me off in front of a huge needle on one of the main thoroughfares of the city of Dublin. Again, Google Map in hand, I walked to the River Liffey, took a right, and passing many bars highlighting the luminaries of Irish literature, I briskly walked to my new hostel.

I checked in, but shockingly, while my room was a six topper, the beds were arranged head to foot, which was beyond gross. Luckily, my bed was at the end of the row, so I made sure to have my head facing the wall.

I locked up my bags, then headed out to get some lunch. I came back, rested a little, then got up again to have some dinner. I walked along the riverbank and eventually popped into a lovely little bar called the Ha’penny Bridge Inn. It got its name from the fact that the bridge right outside its doors used to charge a halfpenny for people to cross to keep them from having to walk all the way down to one of the bigger bridges. The bartenders were very nice, attentive, and inquisitive. After a beer, I headed back to the hostel to get some sleep.   

The next day, I had no idea that the hostel was so big, but found out when I headed down for the free breakfast. Compared to my other recent ones, there were about 50 people in the dining room all munching away on toast and cereal. I asked if I could join a young lady sitting by herself. Her name was Osgia and she was visiting from Turkey. As we were chatting, guess who came walking down the aisle; Hayley from Belfast. I asked her to join us and told her about my plans to do a walking tour. Osgia had something else to do, but Hayley joined me.

We met the tour back at that giant needle, the Spire of Dublin (or more colloquially, the nail in the Pale, the stiletto in the ghetto, the pin in the bin, the stiffy by the Liffey, the spire in the mire, or the spike.) While it was an obvious meeting spot, we were shown the General Post Office right next to it as a place where one of the battles of Irish Independence took place in 1916. Known as the Easter Uprising, Patrick Pearse stood between the six columns and loudly proclaimed that Ireland was a republic. His cadre then stormed and occupied the post office. It did not take long for the British forces to come and shell it mercilessly. After Irish Independence, the post office was rebuilt, but bullet holes and artillery scorching were still saliently outside. I knew I would just have to mail postcards for my nephews there.  

As our tour crossed the Liffey, our guide shared with us a lighter interesting aspect of Irish rapscallionsism. On the O’Connell Bridge, one of the main arteries connecting the city, in 2004, a bronze plaque commemorating a priest named Fr. Pat Noise mysteriously appeared. “He died under suspicious circumstances when his carriage plunged into the Liffey on August 10th 1919” it read. It went unnoticed for two years until someone brought it to the attention of the Dublin city council that went through its archives and realized that there was no authorization by the office to affix such a plaque and there were no records of Fr. Pat Noise, nor his unfortunate accident. Instead of having it dismantled, the city council let it remain in place. It reminded me of New Orleans, where jokes often end up becoming institutions. Perhaps it is due to the large Irish population that came to the city after the Famine. 

We continued on and were shown Trinity College, the Christ Church Cathedral, St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Dublin Castle. We learned that the name Dublin came from old Irish meaning “black pool” and were then taken to Temple Bar. Now, in this neighborhood, there is a drinking establishment indeed called Temple Bar, but the name of the area could have been derived from the fact that this side of the Liffey River was built up a lot by the sediment of the river, much like how a sand bar is made. Or the name of the wealthy English family that settled the neighborhood in the 16th Century. Or even the name of a similar neighborhood in London. The jury was still out. 

When we walked farther into the Temple Bar neighborhood, we were shown a recreation center. Our guide told us that was here a young band entered a talent show. While they were very good, they did not win but were the runners-up. However, their unique sound got the interest of a record executive, which then let them record a demo and eventually be signed. If you have not figured it out by now, the name of the band was U2. Our guide mentioned that in the ensuing years, each of the members bought up more and more of the surrounding real estate by this rec hall.

As our tour was finishing up, our guide shared with us one more interesting fact; that Dublin has two accents. The Northern accent is more working class and the best example, to our tour guide’s chagrin, was Connor McGregor. The Southern accent was posher and nasally given the nature that that part of town had the universities, the cathedrals, and was settled by the upper crust English.

After the tour, Hayley and I got lunch at a restaurant/bar with incredibly slow service. We enjoyed a pint and an Irish stew with some wonderful conversation. We then went to get her bags as I showed her how to book a bus online to head to the airport. I helped carry some and waited with her until the bus came. We said our goodbyes and I then walked around Trinity’s campus. It was utterly gorgeous. So much so, they actually charged a fee to look in their library. Later, I stopped in a convenience store and bought some supplies for my tour the next day, then relaxed until bedtime. 

The next day, I woke up early and trekked to the private bus depot about 15 minutes from the hostel. I waited and our tour assembled. I hopped on the bus supplied by the slur turned prideful Paddywagon tour company and about an hour later, we were at the Rock of Cashel.

The Rock of Cashel was an incredibly old fortress that was later converted to a church. It was also legend that in the 5th Century, the king of the area was converted to Christianity by St Patrick. It was an impressive structure that was still withstanding the test of time. It also served as a burial ground with graves that were hundreds of years old. 

Our next stop was Blarney Castle. Of course, the most famous part of the castle is the Blarney Stone. I waited in a long line to do the deed. I was surprised by how precarious it was. The guides assisted me in hanging upside down from the apex of the castle while my lips touched the stone that millions of people have done before me. I did notice a bit of change to my oft stoic countenance. Afterward, I toured the grounds and found my way into their Poison Garden where they were growing different poisonous plants. Some had little plaques about how dangerous they were. I was surprised they had opium and one lonely marijuana plant. They even had tobacco, the deadliest of all.

I made my way to the gift shop and made sure to procure my brother-in-law a small bottle of Potcheen. I first learned of this Irish moonshine when I was back in Spain when a friend of mine bought a bottle that he wished to share. Even though it said on the bottle in giant letters USE WITH MIXER, of course we did shots of it straigt. Oh, the audacity of youth. The stuff was potent, so much so that it was banned by the Irish government for a time. Not to play up stereotypes, but if the Irish need to ban some booze, you know the stuff is going to be good. 

The tour continued on to Cork. I walked around some, then found my way to the English market where I got some food, then headed to a recommended bar for a pint, then took a three-hour bus ride back to Dublin proper. 

I got up to the room and met my new roommate that took the place of the Turkish girl. Her name was Courtney and was a lawyer from the Gold Coast of Australia but was born in New Zealand. We went out, had a pint at the actual Temple Bar, then the Ha’Penny Bridge Inn, then had some dinner together. We regaled each other with stories and reasons for our travels. Afterward, we headed back and I showered and went to bed.

The next day I started by having some breakfast then took the tram to head out to the working-class area of Dublin to pay my respects to the most famous Irishman of the past five years, Connor McGregor. I am not a big fan of the UFC, but I liked his story. He grew up poor and was on welfare, but had started boxing at twelve as a way to defend himself and to build his confidence. One thing lead to another and he began training for mixed martial arts also while trying to get an apprenticeship to be a plumber. At 18, in 2007, he won his first fight during his debut by TKO.  He started getting better and better, moving up the ranks. As his profile increased, he entered the world of UFC. In 2013, he signed a multi-year contract. Real rags to riches story forged though motivation, visualization, and iron will. 

I followed the directions to the gym where he trained while in Dublin. Unfortunately, it took me to an office park. Since I was in the middle of the suburbs of Dublin, there were not a lot of places to find internet. I walked into am office and asked the nice receptionist if she could find an address for me as I was lost and tell me how to get there. After looking around online, she pointed down the street from where I came and told me to look out for a few landmarks. I thanked her profusely. I walked there, but it was in another office park and not clearly labeled. I then noticed some UFC Grafitti and the gym markings on a car out front. I walked in and the staff asked me if I was alright. I stated my business and asked if I could look around. They said sure. There was a sparing match going on which was fun to watch. I left, then headed back to town. I had an important date!

I arrived and got ready for my tour of the Jameson distillery. I walked in, met my group and my guide, had a complimentary glass of Jameson (neat) then began the tour. It was actually quite entertaining. We were taken into a room with virtual displays that shared the history of the company. Apparently, everyone and their mother fancied themselves whiskey makers in Dublin, but Jameson was the best. The tour guide asked us if were knew what the etymology of the word ‘shot’ came from. Of course, I knew. I raised my hand and said in the Old West, that was the equivalent amount of alcohol someone could trade one round of ammunition for. Surprised at my knowledge, the guide told me I was correct.

After the tour, our other guide walked us to the next part of the tour, the Guinness Factory. Along the way, he shared some interesting facts about Dublin. One of them was that when everyone and their mother was trying to make whiskey, often, the stills would catch fire. During one such fire that threatened the city of Dublin, the power that was decided that they would try to steer the flaming liquid to the river to put it out. They did this by piling the sides of the streets with cow dung as it would not catch fire. However, this did not stop the people of Dublin from trying to take a wee taste. Many a man would burn themselves after getting down on all fours, in the muck, to try and drink. He shared that this is the etymology of the term, “shit faced.”

It was a nice little walk and we stopped at an Irish pub. And were shown something else interesting. Apparently, Guinness has a school to teach the local barmen how to pour the perfect pint as there is a two-switch tap. To fill the pint glass, it needs to be angled and the tap needs to be put in the fully down position. Then, the tap needs to be put in the up position to make the head as the glass becomes level. Those places that completed the training were allowed to advertise Guinness on the outside of their establishment with signage with a red ring around it.  

We then went to the Guinness factory. While it was incredibly touristy and had a lot of flashy displays, they had many exhibits to see. My favorite was the signage from its beginning to today. Working up a thirst, we headed to the Gravity Bar at the top of the factory where I had probably the best stout of my life. No nitrogen headache. I sat up there for a bit looking at the panorama of Dublin. The factory was closing, so I decided to head back to the hostel. On the way,  I got a burger, which was the first red meat I think I have had on this trip, which was amazing. I then walked home after buying supplies for the next day, then showered and went to bed.

I had to get up early for my tour to head out to the west coast of Ireland. For some reason, the tour thought it would be a good idea to make our first stop at probably their most cherished rest stop, named for President Barack Obama. His mother’s family traced their lineage back to Ireland. Kind of weird, kind of apropos.

After relieving myself, we headed out to the Cliffs of Mohar. They were amazing. However, it really displayed the difference between America and the rest of the world. There was big signage that said if we continued past this point, we were on our own. Considering that the walking path was precariously close to a 700ft straight drop into the sea, I could only imagine how many people slipped on the slick grass and fell over. That however did not stop the geriatric bunch with their dual walking sticks trying to pass and shove people out of their way. I was able to find a quiet place overlooking the cliffs for some introspection, given that the day was 9/11. 

Our next stop was Burren, which much like the Giant’s Causeway, was otherworldly and looked like the surface of the moon. 

After, we headed to Galway. Our guide gave us a little tour including the Hotel Meryck that once housed John F Kennedy on his trip to Ireland, told us stories of the Lynch family and their monkey, and the two Wildes. It was a quaint town that was bustling with activity. I stopped at the bar that was featured in the music video Galway Girl with my former co-worker Saoirse Ronan. I walked around Galway some and had a little lunch of Irish stew while I talked with some clients.

As I was settling in for the three-hour ride home, our tour guide felt it was important to read a Social Media post regarding living one’s life to the fullest. She said she wanted to share because of the date. I sat, looking out into the lush Irish countryside as I listened to her words.  I got back to my hostel and dropped my things and decided to go out and have a solemn Guinness to commemorate the day.

The next day I got up early, packed my things, and headed back to the stiletto in the ghetto to catch a bus to the airport. I was heading back to jolly old England.