I don't know what I was thinking, taking us to Dublin the weekend of St. Patrick's Day. True, it was our last free weekend... and the early morning drizzle in Bangor didn't necessarily mean it would be raining all day in Dublin, because frequently early morning rain gives way to sunshine, really!! And most importantly of all, the wind was not howling in the least. It has howled so much recently that a calm day, even a damp one, seemed our best bet for a day of sightseeing in Dublin.
Well, the wind stayed down, yes. We caught the train at Bangor West station bright and early at 7 a.m. and started off on the Enterprise service from Belfast Central to Dublin at 8 a.m., comfortable and warm, and enjoyed the foggy green scenery while we tucked into our scones and jam and gourmet yogurt that I'd bought at M&S on Friday. We arrived fresh and optimistic at Connolly station and set out towards Trinity College. It only drizzled on us a little bit for a while, and when it really started to rain we took shelter in the National Gallery which was free and which had some absolutely lovely paintings to look at by Monet, Van Gogh, Morisot, Bonheur, and many others. We looked at probably 3 galleries out of the dozens in the huge building; Reed's favorite and most memorable thing will probably be getting to drop coins in the special coin donation boxes in various places. They've very cleverly made them entertaining to watch, with copper disks that turn over as the coin hits them or a pyramid that the coin slides down.
When we emerged it was still just a light drizzle so when we finally found the line to see the Book of Kells at Trinity's old library building, we stood outside waiting on the cobblestone walkway and ate our sandwiches until it was finally our turn to get inside. Things have changed for the Book of Kells since I last saw it 20 years ago at Christmastime; before I don't remember anyone else being around, for one thing, and it was in a special case inside the library's stupendously long and tall Long Room. Now the book is in a separate room in what used to be the ground floor/basement underneath the Long Room, and the rest of the ground floor has been turned into gift shop and a very informative exhibit about the Book of Kells, who did the work on it, and how the work was done. After the exhibit, to see the Book of Kells itself is rather anticlimactic - it's not very big, and you jostle to see it, and then when you get your chance to be at the front, the people waiting behind you breathing down your neck are distracting. I would recommend going to see the Book of Kells first thing in the morning on a boring old weekday in the middle of a rainy January - and maybe you'll have it to yourself for a little while. The Long Room is as breathtaking as ever: 200,000 antique leatherbound volumes arranged in shelved alcoves flanked by marble busts. The barrel vaulted ceiling is as high as a cathedral's, and the copious amounts of wood shelving, flooring, ceiling, and window trim are all burnished to a deep glow. Any librarian that works here must be sure not to be afraid of heights - the ladders that reach the top shelves are a good 30 feet tall. The upper levels of alcoves are reached by a wrought iron spiral staircase.
When we emerged the rain was falling in earnest and we ignored it the best we could as we admired St Stephen's Green and then made our way through the crowded and charming pedestrian shopping streets around Grafton Street, ducking into Bewley's, a large Victorian era cafe', for some hot chocolate and tea. We also ordered a slice of Bailey's cheesecake but I'm not going to say much about it: Walt and I are something of cheesecake connoisseurs and this was not really cheesecake at all - more of an uninspiring gelatin and cream pie flavored mildly with Baileys. At the table next to us were two off-duty children's entertainers: Mr. Balloonatic, wearing bright green and purple and some very large shoes and a suitcase full of balloons and some balloon animals, and another man, very large, in a gold and brown checked suit. Mr. Balloonatic made Reed giggle with delight several times, and stressed to us that he's not a clown - clowns are scary, and he is not. He also doesn't juggle, we found out. Apparently in the entertainment profession there are degrees of specialization. Balloon men don't juggle or do magic; magicians don't juggle; jugglers don't do card tricks. It was too bad it was such a rainy day, as I'm sure Mr. Balloonatic was meant to be outside, performing for the admiring crowds of passersby, who were instead moving quickly, with their heads down under their umbrellas. The exception were the people who were involved in some sort of tourist treasure hunt; you could tell them because they had paper pirate's hats on and were carrying plastic swords, and were invariably soaked.
Mr. Balloonatic gave us directions to the street where the Oxfam shop is located so we could buy Reed a dry sweatshirt to wear under his coat, and then we walked the mile or so on O'Connell street, observing the Bank of Ireland and the main post office, across the Liffey and then headed for the station, reaching it at 3 pm (2 hours before our train was due to leave), completely soaked and cold. Walt dried Reed's shirts with the hand dryer in the restrooms, and we took refuge in the bar inside the station and drank Guinness and Bewley's decaf tea (my second of the day) and watched rugby on the big screen t.v. (Ireland vs. England, I still don't know who won) until it was time to get on the train. It was a damp trip home but at least we weren't getting any wetter, and Reed had recovered his good spirits as his jeans slowly dried out. Why didn't we buy umbrellas, you may well ask. Stubborn thriftiness, I suppose, and knowledge of how difficult it is to walk in crowds with an umbrella...but in hindsight, it would have been a very good investment and might have allowed us to enjoy more of the day. Hopefully when we go through on our way to Cork in two weeks the sun will be shining and we can replace the damp, chilly memories with warm ones.
