Dublin Day 2: The Dead Ringer
Our second full day in Dublin started off with a brisk walk and only progressed from there. Another 10.17 miles (yes, miles) later, we are finally back in the room to relax, sleep, and read some James Joyce. But experiencing the cathedrals of Dublin definitely gave me some perspective on just how old and storied this city is, on both sides of the wall. Plus, we got to see a mummified cat and rat, and ring some little old bells in the tower of Christ Church. Not such a shabby day.
We departed the
hotel at exactly 9:05 to arrive at Dublin Castle State apartments, the home of
the Office of Public Works. It was about a thirty-minute walk, but we went
through Grafton Street, one of the most popular shopping destinations in
Dublin. Once at the castle, we received Heritage Cards so that many of the
historical sights in the country are free for us to tour. We took some photos of
the castle itself, though the official tour will not be until Wednesday. I cannot
wait to see the medieval sections of the structure and get to be inside the
cathedral, along with the underground portion of the River Poddle.
Next, we walked
a roundabout way to the back of Christ Church Cathedral and passed by the
Handel Hotel. Handel’s Messiah was first performed here, so there is a hotel
and a plaque dedicated to the historic show. Can you handle that?! We also
walked through a set of sidewalk plaques that illustrate certain artifacts left
by the Vikings who settled Dublin. There was even a section of the sidewalk
that used stones to show the shapes and sizes of buildings or structures that
were unearthed during modern construction and excavation a few years ago. I
thought this was a really cool way to remind not only tourists, but the
residents of Dublin what came before them. We then left Christ Church after getting some initial photos and glances,
but would return later for our 1PM guided tour.
Temporarily
saying goodbye, we continued on to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the surrounding
park. I strolled around the green park, watched the fountain bubble and the
dogs run, and walked the little writer’s lane—a commemorative series of plaques
denoting the various authors of Dublin origin. I finally got to see some Wilde!
The cathedral itself is so huge that it was hard to get it all in one picture.
In fact, I think I still failed. Each part has been so intricately thought out
and executed that it is absolutely a piece of art. The Gothic style will never
cease to amaze me. And if I thought the outside was cool, the inside was
stunning. Vaulted ceilings true to the medieval period, and a collection of
knightly coat of arms flags to rival any I’ve seen. Helmets lined the choir
stalls in correspondence with each flag, all of them weathered but still
impressive. The whole building is laid out in a cross, so there are multiple
side chapels that have both sanctuaries and tourist activities. We saw the old
organ enclosed in a display and an amazing spiral staircase. And on the
opposite side, there was a counter to try brass rubbing! The molds were mostly
saints, but I found the two praying knights to be the most enticing. I did
pretty well, but the wax wasn’t quite soft enough to get a perfect etching.
Even so, I am still so happy I got to make one. The whole time we were there,
an organist was practicing softly in the background. It was quite the
experience, even if it wasn’t guided.
After our first
church, we walked back to the second one. We arrived just as the priest was
starting a peace service, so we all ended up shaking his hand and receiving
peace before our guided tour. It was nice to know that someone, however mildly,
was looking after me. The tour explained a lot about the architecture of the
church and the artifacts housed in it, such as the gold eagle lectern, the
Romanesque pulpit, old organ, and the various treasures in the crypt. Being
down in the tunnels was a treat, since we got to view not only gold plates and
old books, but we got to see the mummified cat and rat that got stuck in the
organ! It was really cool. Once we got a quick bite to eat, a cup of tea, and
some postcard souvenirs, we got to make the ascent up the narrow, steep set of
stone stairs that leads to the roof and bell tower. The climb was worth it,
because we not only got to see Dublin from the roof of the church, but we all
got to take a turn ringing the bells! That was the most fun thing I have done
this entire trip. It was exhilarating to know that I was ringing the bell to
the entire city. What an experience. We quickly made the decent back down,
which was precarious, but ended well. An amazing time at Christ Church! I would
absolutely recommend the guided tour—our leader was incredibly knowledgeable
about everything from Tudor era British monarchs to the contents of the
Washington DC museum to famous Irish actors. And he made a lot of puns, which
just always makes my day better.
When the tour
finished, the professors dismissed us to do as we pleased. Despite being very
hungry before the muffin (aka lunch), we actually skipped any more sustenance
and instead opted to use the time to explore. Diana and I followed some people
to go see Molly Malone, or, as most people call her, the Tart with the Cart.
All of the famous sculptures in Dublin have degrading names, so she is not
alone. However, there is a logical reason as to why she is called a tart: it is
apparently good luck to rub her—generously exposed—chest. I mustered all my
courage and placed a single finger, only in the name of good luck. I certainly
hope it comes—I feel as though I will be harboring embarrassment for a while.
We ditched Molly
and the rest of the students after hitting Grafton Street, and went on up
Kildare Street to see some of the more tourist-oriented shops. The sweater
store looked amazing, and ships packages for only €15 each. However many
sweaters fit, they are yours to ship to the US. That’s a bargain over the €40
charge at Guinness, but I suppose that should be expected. I’ll absolutely be
back there to buy some sweaters for everyone I know. A door down was the House
of Names, where I inquired about the name Harty for my friend Sean (Patrick
Harty, the most Irish American lad to grace our campus). So far, I had been
unable to find anything with his name on it. In fact, I was starting to doubt
that his name was actually even Irish. But I asked the man if he had anything
on the name, and he said he would look it up on the computer. Boom! A hit! An
explanation of meaning, territories located, prominent ancestors, and a
description of the coat of arms all comes on a fancy sheet of paper, which I
will give to Sean when I get back. He’s Irish, it’s okay! Finally, we walked
back up Grafton Street to our hotel, where Diana bought us some beautiful red
tulips for our room. Our feet were tired and our bodies weary, but we were
invigorated with the sense of adventure. Exploring was never easy for anyone.
Dinner was great
again tonight! We got broccoli, among other things like tomato basil soup,
baked hake “fillet” (pronouncing the et
rather than ending it the French way, who needs that?), and a delicious Bailey’s
chocolate cream cake. I could not finish the whole thing, but it was absolutely
worth trying.
After dinner, our music professor had those interested lined up to go to a pub for some live music. I could not wait! Finally, I have
been to a session. I absolutely loved my first experience with traditional
Irish music, along with the unbelievably talented musicians behind it. Our professor
initially warned us that many of the sessions end up being tourist attractions,
so they are really just performed versions of the real thing so that foreigners
can feel as though they are immersed in “true” Irishness. I knew this from prior
research as well, along with knowing that outright filming or photos is
considered disrespectful to the players. I was on guard, but still open to
having a good time no matter what we heard. Once we settled in to the cozy pub
(aptly called Mother Reilly’s), however, we knew we were in for a great night.
The ceilings were so low that the guys had to slouch a little bit. The rooms
sprouted off of the main bar area like little tunnels, opening up into stone
caverns that held warm fireplaces, soft lighting, and—of course—fantastic pub
décor. I refused a Guinness once more and went with something called a
Bulmer’s; think hard apple juice that has an intense amount of carbonation. Not
as horrible as Guinness, but also not something I would want to consume every
day. Worth trying, however, since it is apparently a famous on-tap drink around
Dublin.
Once the musicians
started arriving, I got my hopes up. At first, there were only three musicians:
one banjo player, a tin whistler, and a piper. Small in number but mighty in
sound. Then, more and more people started trickling in—another piper, this one
much younger. A guitarist and a bódhran player, who borrowed his instrument
from another drummer who came in at the same time. The owner of the drums
quickly became one of our favorite players, simply for his vibrant
participation and obvious passion for the muic and the technique of playing. He
lived the music, he played with the blood. Those things are important to note,
and also important for musicians to indicate to other musicians. He and the
guitar player sat opposite each other, and would repeatedly and randomly start
dancing and adding flair to their melodies. Improvisation is a large part of
session music, and I knew that going in. But I did not realize how evidently and
wonderfully it would be communicated and performed.
A second later,
a female flautist followed timidly, but ultimately joined in as well. Another
woman who ended up playing both the flute and the harp came in next, and the
group rounded out soon after with the arrival of the elderly fiddle player. We
saw his case and immediately knew it would be a violin. But of course, I have
to keep things interesting. So when I saw the end of the actual violin creep
out into the doorway, I affirmed enthusiastically, “I see a scroll!” He added
lilts to the melodies that mimicked the pipers and made me smile despite
myself. Those bent notes may not be much to some people, but they make any song
I hear better. A little bit of spontaneity and expression never hurt anyone. That
is one of the reasons I love the fiddle so much more than the “violin”.
Even our
professor was impressed with the quality of the music. When he said the session
was a 7 out of 10, I was over the moon. Our first session, that high on the
ranking scale? And in Dublin, the most commercialized section of Ireland?
Nothing could top that. Absolutely nothing. Sorry there are no pictures to
commemorate this momentous occasion or the music that drove it, but I stayed
true to my word and didn’t even try to shoot. It is forever nestled into my
brain and my brain alone, but I encourage everyone to get out and try it some
time. Nothing compares to sitting in a warm pub, facing musicians doing what
they love, in a room just bright enough to see them. An incredible and
unforgettable experience. I cannot wait to go again.
♥
photo credit Diana Cleveland
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