Having enjoyed our brief flight from Newquay to Dublin, and then our bus ride from the airport to the city center, we were nonetheless happy to arrive at our bright, IKEA-decorated apartment right off O’Connell Street (reminded me of Market Street in San Francisco). Out our window we could see the General Post Office, which we later discovered was famous for its association with the 1916 Easter Rising. After settling in for a bit, we decided to find a local grocery store to get some supplies. Walking out the door, we were overwhelmed by hoards of people heading down the street, all wearing fan jerseys of some kind. Amazed at the quantity of people, I stopped one of the fans and asked where they were all coming from. In that very friendly Irish way he told us one of the semi-final matches (games?) of Gaelic football had just let out, the stadium being just up the road. We’ve now learned what Gaelic football is not – soccer, American football or rugby – but we’re still not sure what it is. Add that to my list of things to Google.
I was briefly in Dublin 20 years ago and although I don’t remember much, I remember thinking it was really cool. Honestly, this time it depressed me, though being a good part Irish I feel blasphemous saying that. Dublin is really dirty, even through Jeff’s perpetually rose-colored glasses. The grand old buildings, as well as the modern new ones, are covered in soot and littered with trash. There are many homeless. Tons of folks smoke and cigarette butts are literally everywhere. Maybe I focus too much on aesthetics, but it saddens me that a city with such a rich history, that played such a key role in the republic’s independence, doesn’t take more pride in its appearance (I’m not including individual business owners who keep their shops/pubs ship-shape). When I was Mick’s age, my dad would come into my room and sternly ask me how I could respect myself with such a messy room? I guess I feel the same about Dublin (although, to be fair, my response to Dad was always, ‘You can totally be messy and still have self-respect’). There are tons of tourists, like us, that Dublin’s economy obviously needs, but with the myriad other Irish towns that all offer history and pubs, some may seek a place with less grime and grit. Sadly, I feel this way about San Francisco, too.
The Temple Bar area remains a great place to stroll around, shop, people-watch, and, of course, drink a pint (or two). Jeff and I did just that one early evening (while Mick savored his “alone time,” watching episodes of Star Trek at the apartment) and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We had a pint of Guinness in The Temple Bar and then discovered a great place called The Old Storehouse, where we had another pint, Harp this time. We sat at the bar and listened to live Irish music as waitresses periodically walked by with Irish beef stew, bangers & mash, haddock & chips, etc. I joined the rest of the patrons in singing the chorus of “The Wild Rover” (a song I learned when Jeff and I would go with Jimmy Jordan and John Padden to see Frank Jordan, Jr. play with Culann’s Hounds at The Blackthorn in the pre-Mick days) and all was good with the world.
We went the tourist route and bought tickets for the Hop-on/Hop-off bus and felt like we saw a lot of the city, learning some history along the way (as the same Irish tunes played over and over and over, much to Mick’s irritation). The bus/tour company was offering free admission tickets to The Little Museum of Dublin, which claims to give you the history of Dublin in less than a half an hour. As this is just about The Jordan Family’s attention span for most museums, and we like free, we decided to go for it! The museum is housed in a restored Georgian home right across from St. Stephen’s Green and has three floors of interesting stuff.
A wonderful tour guide gave us the 29-minute history of Dublin (and the Republic of Ireland, really) from 1900 to 2000 and then we were free to roam about ourselves. One room housed the “A Little History of the Dublin Pub” and another was for the history of U2. It was great.
Our tour guide mentioned the movie Michael Collins with Liam Neeson, Aidan Quinn and Julia Roberts and on a roll with Irish history, we rented it that night and watched it on Apple TV. Even missing some of the detail (only Julia Roberts’ bad accent was easy to understand), it was a great reinforcement of what we learned on our tour and it’s easy to understand why the Irish hated the English and why it still lingers for many. Next stop, Waterford.