When I started packing for our trip to Ireland, the first thing that came to mind was rain. I wanted to make sure I brought enough waterproof gear. But the first thing that normally comes to people's minds -- which, incidentally, is related to rain -- is the green landscape that gives the country it's "Emerald Isle" nickname. My trip to Ohio was verdant enough, but after spending a week in tan and dusty Israel, the lushness of St. Stephen's Green in Dublin was admittedly quite striking:
But the colors of other jewels were just as evident throughout the country. Despite my fears of downpours, we had plenty of clear weather, including this sapphire sky in Bray, a southern suburb of Dublin that was hosting a summer carnival:
The Salthill promenade near Galway on the west coast also had a carnival, but the main attraction was the silver sea instead. The rare sun brought people of all ages out to test the waters. My wussy self only waded, but Tim took a dip long enough to make his teeth chatter. The Atlantic Ocean is no Mediterranean Sea, even in summer:
Tim was also brave enough to bear the 40 Foot natural pool in Sandycove right as the amber sunlight was beginning to fade. The pool is only steps away from the Martello Tower that houses the James Joyce museum. Joyce was inspired enough by the local scenery that he describes it in detail in the opening chapter of
Ulysses; it's easy to see why:
The filtering of rays through the clouds gave me an inspiration of a different kind: Time to drop in a pub. No trip to Dublin is complete without the obligatory trip to St. James's Gate Brewery, home of Guinness. The tour, although somewhat hokey, is worth the final reward: a complimentary topaz pint with a 360-degree view of the town and, if you're as lucky as me, a shamrock head:
As much of a cultural institution as Guinness is, Ireland is rich in the slate of history. We saw Muiredach's Cross on the way to Newgrange, a Stone Age passage tomb built before the Egyptian pyramids. The 10th century cross at Monasterboice, where the remains of a monastic round tower also still stand, is considered the best example of a intact high Celtic cross in Ireland:
In keeping with the color of history, we had a few gray days, including during a trip to Howth. But the fishing village north of Dublin was dotted with jewel tones. When we did our one and only "hill walk" south of the harbor, I realized that the boats and houses resembled a collection of birthstones:
The Irish landscape is full of gems, to be sure, but the true pearls of the country are its characters. The seals in the Howth harbor were happy to get leftovers from the wharf fish mongers. But Tim's oysters and my Dublin Bay prawns, we decided, were too delicious to throw to the seaborne beggars:
Much more intrusive and much more scary were the Close-Act performers roaming the streets at the Galway Arts Festival. I managed to get wrapped up in their antennae on our way to one of the most famous fish-and-chips establishments in Ireland:
The sights of Ireland were undoubtedly gorgeous, but truly, I got most caught up in the people, including the Belfast couple who bought Tim and I so many pints that we nearly missed our train back to Dublin. It saddened me that we only had enough time to merely scratch the surface of the country's many facets. Rain or no, we will return.
But the colors of other jewels were just as evident throughout the country. Despite my fears of downpours, we had plenty of clear weather, including this sapphire sky in Bray, a southern suburb of Dublin that was hosting a summer carnival:
The Salthill promenade near Galway on the west coast also had a carnival, but the main attraction was the silver sea instead. The rare sun brought people of all ages out to test the waters. My wussy self only waded, but Tim took a dip long enough to make his teeth chatter. The Atlantic Ocean is no Mediterranean Sea, even in summer:
Tim was also brave enough to bear the 40 Foot natural pool in Sandycove right as the amber sunlight was beginning to fade. The pool is only steps away from the Martello Tower that houses the James Joyce museum. Joyce was inspired enough by the local scenery that he describes it in detail in the opening chapter of Ulysses; it's easy to see why:
The filtering of rays through the clouds gave me an inspiration of a different kind: Time to drop in a pub. No trip to Dublin is complete without the obligatory trip to St. James's Gate Brewery, home of Guinness. The tour, although somewhat hokey, is worth the final reward: a complimentary topaz pint with a 360-degree view of the town and, if you're as lucky as me, a shamrock head:
As much of a cultural institution as Guinness is, Ireland is rich in the slate of history. We saw Muiredach's Cross on the way to Newgrange, a Stone Age passage tomb built before the Egyptian pyramids. The 10th century cross at Monasterboice, where the remains of a monastic round tower also still stand, is considered the best example of a intact high Celtic cross in Ireland:
In keeping with the color of history, we had a few gray days, including during a trip to Howth. But the fishing village north of Dublin was dotted with jewel tones. When we did our one and only "hill walk" south of the harbor, I realized that the boats and houses resembled a collection of birthstones:
The Irish landscape is full of gems, to be sure, but the true pearls of the country are its characters. The seals in the Howth harbor were happy to get leftovers from the wharf fish mongers. But Tim's oysters and my Dublin Bay prawns, we decided, were too delicious to throw to the seaborne beggars:
Much more intrusive and much more scary were the Close-Act performers roaming the streets at the Galway Arts Festival. I managed to get wrapped up in their antennae on our way to one of the most famous fish-and-chips establishments in Ireland:
The sights of Ireland were undoubtedly gorgeous, but truly, I got most caught up in the people, including the Belfast couple who bought Tim and I so many pints that we nearly missed our train back to Dublin. It saddened me that we only had enough time to merely scratch the surface of the country's many facets. Rain or no, we will return.
4 comments:
Kimmy, this is some really beautiful writing. I love your travelogues.
What can I say: Beautiful places inspire beautiful writing.
You seem to be channeling Seamus Heaney in this one. Miss you! and am insanely jealous.
Wow, what a compliment. Next up, something on the Olympics, but it's been crazy. Might not get to it before I go to Greece at the end of the month. Even more jealous?
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