St. Patrick's, Alfred Guinness and Scruffy Murphy

Call the shuttle: check. Smoke five cigarettes each: check. Necessary zen moment where we talked each off a ledge and reminded ourselves about something Jesus said. The sun is simmering along the horizon line, striping the sky with feather-like swathes of lavender and coral all belted by the dense carpet of green. The shuttle comes chugging around the corner and all of a sudden eight people come out of nowhere, all bitching about the fact that they had been waiting for HOURS. Gerad, the driver glances around hopefully wondering which of us is going to give in. Moozh lights another cigarette. The rest of them pile in and again we're standing in the quiet parking lot, commenting on the color of the sky and how bad we want to chug a pint and then fall into bed. The other shuttle driver, Roman, totally perked the night up. A Russian guy from Moscow who's been living in Dublin for ten years. That guy should have a podcast because every time he opened his mouth was hysterical. He actually took a picture of us with our bags so that he could show his wife. 

We noticed that all of the signs in Ireland are written in English up top with Gaelic underneath. So we asked Roman.

"Roman, do you speak Gaelic?" 

"No! The Irish don't even speak Gaelic. Maybe some out west like Galloway but really not even there." 

The people at the hotel were great and took good care of us. Lovely Joseph at the front desk sent us up a consolation fruit basket and chocolate truffles as of to say, "Don't hate Ireland. You should just sleep." They totally meant it that way. Maybe.

Dublin is this beautiful hybrid of centuries old and brand new right next to each other. Downtown is all oriented around the river canal that runs through the city. I felt like I said, "Oh my God, look at that building" so much, pure strangers got tired of hearing it. Dublin is extremely multicultural as well, like the rest of the UK. But man is it Ginger Toooooooooooooowwn. That recessive gene is romping through the landscape like nobodies business. And I'm LOVIN it. Entire families, pale as a sheet of paper with this OUTRAGEOUS red hair. Now don't misunderstand. I have this inexplicable OBSESSION with gingers, and I do mean obsession. Russia, Jewish people, and gingers: the trifecta of something that captured my imagination and hasn't left. The freckles, the porcelain skin, the hair. It is so eye-catching, and so unlike anything else. They are completely breathtaking. These little kids running around with these adorable freckles and red hair braided into a bun. Usually setting something on fire, or shooting spitballs at a cop. 

So Moozh and I saunter along the canals snapping the fantastic buildings, old and new. Everybody we see is either running on their lunch hour or sitting along the canal eating an ice cream cone. Along the main canal, there are easily a dozen bridges, each designed differently and each significant. The houses are so old and have so much character, like hand carved sconces and brightly painted doors. But they are also so uniform. And no apartments really. Mostly all townhouses and condos from the look of it. Tucked underneath a brick-laden arch, was a small pub with a Guinness sign above the door called "Scruffy Murphy's". I repeated it over and over again, in my best leprechaun accent. And then I started calling Moozh that. Which he loved of course. We stumble into Merrion Square which is probably the greenest place we saw out of all of Dublin. Ornately planted gardens and filled with people. Businessmen, suits and all, nap on the park benches. Kids run around chasing bubbles. Wrought iron fences click along the perimeter, casting spire-like shadows on the grass and cobblestone walking paths. 

And then, it's like stumbling out of the wardrobe. We pitch out one gate and suddenly we're facing Trinity College, one of the oldest universities in the world. It was established by Queen Elizabeth 1! The Cate Blanchett Queen! And Oscar Wilde's birthplace is a small apartment that actually borders the college. It's now an office for the English department, somewhat appropriately, but everything has been maintained as it was. If you come when the administrator is in, she'll take you through it and show you all the little notable facets. She was not in but Moozh and I definitely got our exercise trying to figure it out. 

It's Oscar Wilde's House!

Trinity College snuggles up against Temple Bar, which is Dublin's cultural or 'cool' district. So many cool Irish pubs, ethnically diverse restaurants, and art galleries. The original Temple Bar holds the oldest publican permit in Dublin. It's been around since the 16th century! They have a beer garden where you can still smoke indoors. We took advantage of it, drinking our Guinness and smoking underneath the lush flower baskets and feeling the mist that dusted us every few minutes. They also have around 500 whiskies at your fingertips. Moozh vowed that he was only going to drink Guinness while he was in Dublin. The whisky did tempt him. though. On our way through Temple Bar, we stopped in at a rad tattoo shop called Dublin Ink. Moozh got his first impromptu modelling session. One step in the door and the artists inside had already locked on his arm. In no time, Moozh was standing without a shirt while about five tattoo artists poked and examined every inch of his arm. It was so cool to see artists from an entirely different place get stoked about someone's body art, especially when it's as cool as Moozh's. (If you want to see all the detail of Moozh's sleeve, it's all up on Fly the Cage's website, at flythecagetattoo.com.) In fact, they were so excited we might have gotten Zara a job in Ireland!

"The" Temple Bar

We wandered out of Temple Bar and around to Christ Church Cathedral. There was a tour of around 150 Italian students on a field trip so we didn't get to see much. But we did head down the block to St. Patrick's Cathedral from there. It's the oldest established church in Ireland. Fifth century! 

Imagine!

"Dear Mom, today I bought myself a new sundial. Not much to report. Love, Me. P.S ~ St. Patrick is here. The man's on a real wine and bread diet."

Christ's Church Cathedral

St. Patrick's Cathedral

We had to take a picture because we think that if
garbage cans were all this cute, EVERYBODY would
use them.

Jonathan Swift features quite prominently at the Cathedral. He was the Dean of the Cathedral for a long time. Swift wrote some great satire. My dad's favourite is A Modest Proposal, where Swift proposes a solution to the overpopulation in Ireland, like making the babies into purses and wallets. Or as tender meat! He even supplies recipes, which is rather considerate because it's tough to know how to prepare something if you're not familiar with it. I remember my dad reading it to me when I was in elementary school and explaining to me what 'satire' meant. And then when we reread it in English in high school, I was able to sleep through the same lecture when my English teacher had to talk all of the girls in my class off a ledge as they gagged and sobbed at Mr. Swift's disgusting proposal that babies would make great wallets because of their soft skin. 

Anyway, Swift's grave and the grave of his lover, Stella, are within the church. There is a cast of his skull that was made about a hundred years after he was dead, because scientists were still on that kick where they believed the size and shape of your skull made you smarter. There are so many full-size stone statues with every jacket detail with curl in the hair included. The choir was practicing when we got there and it filled the room with this ethereal softness. There are may aspects to a Catholic church that I find intoxicating and meaningful, even though I wasn't raised with even a base awareness of the faith. An ornately carved stone staircase coils up into the organ room. The pulpit in Catholic churches is funny to me because it looks like the priest is in one of those baby carriers. 

Preacher snuggly. 

The hotel we stayed at offered a free shuttle to a small village nearby called Malahide so that night when we got back we jotted out there to see. We didn't take in a ton of the town -because most of it was closed by 7- but we did take a long walk along the coastline. 

Roman drove us out, giving us tips for when we went back into Dublin the next day.  In pointing out the pubs in the town he said, "Some people have to get drunk in order to enjoy the scenery. Like myself." 

The Irish coastline is everything you see. It is so green but also has these shard-like edge to it. There is long grass, tall purple flowers and what looks like marigold. Bulbs of clover blossoms and  We headed back to our hotel, bought some more Guinness at the EuroStar (Europe also sells liquor in the grocery store. Canada needs to get with the program.) and then went back and watched the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics. CNBC called it 'quirky Britishness' which I would agree with. There were times I was trying to figure out what Voldemort had to do with the Olympics. Then I realized that's probably a great question but just not really the point. 

Kiss 'im, he's Irish!

The next day, we headed back down into Dublin and hit Temple Bar again. It was cool the first time but it turns up on the weekend. There was a music festival, food market and film and music sale. The bread and pastry was beyond phenomenal. It just had this visual quality. It looked amazing. So consistent and made well. We grabbed a small loaf of tomato fennel bread and a danish for our walk through Dublin Castle. Another gorgeously old and beautiful building, I don't exactly know what the castle is still used for because it's not simply a museum. I also don't know the last time Ireland had it's own monarchy. Someone about Fenian raids and Battle of Waterloo. Some Irish guy did fight Napoleon. They built a monument to it. I obviously pay attention really well. Not kidding, travelling with me is like travelling with a small child. Questions every second, really no bodily awareness and really in need of a leash. 

Now I am going to point you in the direction of Antony Bourdain's No Reservations numerous times throughout our travels. We are doing our own version of it called, "Waiting in Line". We are going to consult Mr. Bourdain for many of our food destinations and I'll post what I can find for you here. It's a great show. He does stuff well known and also stuff that's off the beaten track. One institution in Ireland that he visited is called Leo Burdock's Fish and Chips. It's located right across from Christ Church cathedral and they are known for having the best fish and chips in town. They have four other locations but Moozh and I knew we had to take in the original one. Wrapped in brown paper, take-out only, fresh battered cod and thick cut what they call 'chunky chips'. Dusted with salt and drizzled with malt vinegar, I can safely say that my vegetarianism is hanging by a thread. All because of Burdock's fish and chips. It wasn't fishy or soggy. Beautifully flaky cod in a crispy and seasoned batter with thick cut potatoes with the perfect amount of crisp outside. 

Then came the most important part of the whole trip: the Guinness storehouse. Tucked in what seems to be the industrial part of town, the tour facility, which used to be the original brewery rises seven stores above the bottom floor. It takes through all the ingredients that go into making Guinness, the process and the man behind it all, Arthur Guinness. Moozh read a book before we hit Ireland called, "In Search of God and Guinness". It chronicles the Guinness family as they start the brewery and then what they do with their wealth and influence. They built affordable housing around the brewery for all the men who worked at the brewery and their families. They paid their workers more than anywhere else in Dublin. At one point, you get a few ounces of Guinness and they guide through a tasting. Arthur Guinness signed a 9000 year lease when he bought the land that the brewery is now on. They have an entire section just about the advertising of Guinness. The beer bottles, all the way from the ceramic bottles to the glass bottles and cans from today; specialty glasses and other collectable items they've put out that have created an instantly recognizable brand of Guinness. There's actually a letter from a doctor in Ireland who would give patients a glass of Guinness instead of tea after they gave blood because he found that it restored them better. 

The Guinness Storehouse

St. James' Gate

"The largest vats were capable of holding about 90,000
gallons. That's 720, 000 pints of Guinness."

Free pint at the Gravity Bar!

Against the backdrop of Dublin

I had to see James Joyce, even if just to hug him and tell him that I consider Ulysses border line unreadable but that I still love him. And that Portrait of the Artist was really great. And that you can't win them all. No. I couldn't say that to James Joyce. I would probably ask him to slap me after.

Mr. Joyce

Any local we had talked to in our first day had told us that we had to get out Howth if we could't get any further out into the country. Both Howth and Malahide are considered 'county Dublin'. We got totally carried away at the Guinness brewery that by the time we were heading to Howth, it was seven thirty at night. Howth beehives up the sides of a large 'mountainy' hill from which you can see Ireland's Eye, a craggy island off the coast. It's a great little fishing village. The driver from the hotel took us down there to show us around and dropped us off at his favourite called "The Bloody Stream". The lounge side felt like a warm blanket and smell like pine firewood. It was miraculous. One beer, and a photosession over the warf at sunset and we were off. 

Howth at sunset

The Bloody Stream

We went in and STOMPED on RyanAir, an aggressive game of crossing our t's and dotting our i's. And had airport personnel do the same for us. Thusly, no problems. We will never fly with them again but I will not tell other people not to. If you ever want to fly with them, I will only tell you READ EVERYTHING and be prepared to jump through a LOT of hoops. If you are willing to do that, you will get a really cheap rate on your flight.

Things I learned in Ireland: 

Every country has signs in languages that not everyone can speak. 

Old and new can coexist beautifully. 

Malt vinegar goes on fries. Always. Everytime.  

Buy a Guinness. Drink up. Think of the road rising to me you and the gold at the end of the rainbow. Hum the tune to Auld Lang Syne.

Quote of the Trip: 

"Yeah I went to Brussels. It was a little boring for my taste. No let me correct -it was FUCKING boring. There was nothing to do! I saw the little pissing boy. I walked all over trying to find. But he is so small! Like a gift shop toy." 

Roman