"Wandering Rocks"

(The title of Episode 10 of Ulysses.  That's the last of the Joyce quotes-- I promise! )

Sorry for the delayed posting, my lovely readers.  You'll understand why soon enough.

Yesterday was my last day in Dublin (*sniff*).  After having breakfast at the same place as the morning before (it was a very good breakfast), Daniel and I set off on a two-hour long "History of Dublin Walking Tour".  Our guide was a graduate of Trinity (with a PhD in History) who had been giving these tours on and off for years, and as he was somewhat of a fill-in, he had an odd sort of attitude towards the whole thing-- kind of cynical, kind of flippant--but it worked, in some strange way.  We heard a lot of history-- mostly that which lead up to and included the various revolutions and the Troubles.  I'm not going to repeat all of it; one, because I can't remember it all, and two, because you would never read my blog again if I did.  Instead, I shall give you a broad summary:

1.  Protestants= Anglicans= British sympathizers.  The minority in what is now the Republic of Ireland, Protestants have always existed in smaller numbers, and have held disproportionate amounts of power.  Up until the 1920s, only Protestants could sit in Parliament and attend Trinity College.
2.  Catholics= Historically Oppressed Majority= Revolutionaries.  (At least historically-- today, that's not so much the case.)
3.  Protestants+ Catholics= Big Mess.  Most people think of Irish history as being defined by its struggles with the British; rather, it is more often made up of struggles within itself.

Yes, its a very broad summary.  But that's probably all you really cared to know anyway.  The tour also included a few stops in historically relevant places:

 We started at Trinity College (at this lovely statue of Edmund Burke).

Stopped by the old House of Lords (housed in what is now the Bank of Ireland).

And then City Hall.  By the way: Gaelic is the first official language in Ireland, so it appears first on all signs and such.... but practically no one speaks it (at least not in Dublin).

City Hall (with lens flare).

Then we went to Dublin Castle-- the traditional seat of the British presence in Ireland, and sight of some bloody revolutionary conflicts, now home to a few government offices.

If you look closely at the statue of Justice on top of the gate, you'll see that she holds the sword and scales of justice (the scales even have tiny holes drilled in so that the rainwater won't tip the scales one way or the other), but she isn't blindfolded, as most statues of Justice are.... the Brits remembered to drill holes in the scales, but not to give her a blindfold.... hmmm....

And we ended at Christ Church Cathedral (this view is actually from my hotel window).

 

After the tour, my feet felt like they were going to fall off, so we stopped for lunch in a pub that specialized in microbrewery beers.  I took a break from drinking Guinness to try another local drink-- a wheat beer-- and while it was good, I think I might have preferred the Guinness.  But that's ok.

From there we went to the National Library, which is a huge complex with lots of pretty classical architecture.  But the cool part was inside-- an exhibit on Irish poet William Butler Yeats, which was absolutely wonderful (if I'm being honest with myself, it was a better exhibit than the Joyce Center's, but I think I'm too biased).  Yeats was a pretty cool guy-- he was a prolific writer of poetry, and he also wrote a few plays; his greatest achievement (for Dublin, anyway) was the creation of the Abbey Theatre, which put on some of the more radical works of his time and helped to revolutionize the Irish understanding of the arts; and he even created his own religion, based on mysticism (primarily Jewish Kabbalah) and some peculiar pagan traditions.  Oh, and he won the Nobel Prize for Literature.  No big deal.

 Part of the National Library.

 

After the exhibit came a stop at the local milkshake bar, which was a hundred percent necessary despite the fact that it was cold and rainy by that point.  Post-milkshake, we moved on to two photography exhibits: the National Library Photography Archive (on "Power and Prestige"-- basically, the life of the Irish gentry pre-revolution), and one in a gallery that was a collection of vintage photos (kind of a lesson on the history of photography).

At this point, we still had time before we had to head to the bus, so we wandered in search of food.  We were temporarily assisted by a very friendly Dubliner who saw us looking at our map and offered to escort us to the place we were looking for (what they say about Irish hospitality is entirely true).  Once we got there, we realized that it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, so we instead headed back to the hotel for a rest.

Then began the epic saga that was our trip back to London.  We took the bus, which was slowed down on its way to the airport by the traffic surrounding a convention center where a Lady Gaga concert was being held (I so wish that I had known about that beforehand... I might have tried to get a ticket!), then we got to the airport and went through security, and I kept beeping for no apparent reason.  Then we tried to find dinner, and nothing was open for food except for a place selling sad looking sandwiches.  And then our flight was delayed an hour (to 9:35).  Then we caught one of the last trains out of the airport (at 11:50), and took a cab back to the flat from London Bridge station (to arrive at 12:45). 

I had a cup of tea with my aunt Suzanne, whom I hadn't gotten to see at all the previous weekend, and then repacked my bags, and finally got to sleep at around 2:15 or so, which was not nearly early enough to prepare me for the day ahead.

My last view of Dublin-- the sun setting over the Liffey.

...to be continued...