The Rocky Road to Dublin

Greetings all!

As many of you know, Paris was only part one of our weeklong adventure. On our last Parisian day we took a bus from a station near the Arc de Triomphe to a discount airport about an hour outside the city, thinking we were ready for our first encounter with the infamous low-cost airline, Ryanair. Check-in was a bit chaotic, with Ryanair's love for long, nonsensical lines becoming swiftly apparent, but we made it onto the plane and to our seats without too much trouble. I should say, to the seats - on Ryanair, it's a first-come, first-serve on the seats - the only way to actually have a reserved seat is to pay extra.

The flight itself was one long advertisement, with the flight attendants moving up and down the aisles selling this thing or that thing, and in a couple of hours the nose pointed down and we got ready to land. At that point disturbing whispers began to circulate: "this doesn't look like Dublin." "I don't think we're in Ireland." "No, definitely not Ireland." After a very rough landing we were informed that we'd landed, not in Ireland, but in a discount airport outside of Glasgow, Scotland. As it turned out, virtually the entire country of Ireland was closed to air traffic due to crazy weather.

Being a discount airline, instead of putting us up for the night Ryanair decided to leave us sitting on the plane for 4 1/2 hours - midnight to around 4:30 am, with the lights on, every 45 minutes or so coming over the PA to tell us that they'd have an update "in about 20 minutes." Needless to say many of the passengers became extremely irate, and started giving the flight attendants a lot of grief. As a sidenote, on Ryanair flights nothing is free - a small bottle of water costs 3 Euros - so we were left with only the provisions we'd thought to bring.

 The result of 4 1/2 hours of delirious exhausted boredom. Try to guess who drew what.

Eventually they de-planed us into this tiny little airport with approximately a single employee at 4:30 am, who was promptly bombarded by questions by several airplanes worth of upset travellers, and had no idea what was going on. After a couple of hours of waiting around, we spent another hour in a series of nonsensical lines and finally ended up on a flight to Dublin.

We took a double-decker bus from the airport to the city center and staggered into our hostel at about 10 am - having been charged the full price already for our night on the plane, since we'd had no way to tell them we weren't coming. The upside was that there was a room ready and waiting for us, and so we went and collapsed into bed for a while. The other upside was that the hostel (Isaac's Hostel, if you're ever in the area) was one of the hippest, coolest hostels I've ever seen. It had a basement area complete with reading room, sauna, pool & ping-pong table and Playstation.

Around 2 or 3 in the afternoon we were feeling the gnawing hunger of those who haven't had a square meal since the previous day's breakfast. We set out in search of food, and settled on a tiny little fish&chips joint, nestled away on a corner near Christchurch, and ended up with a giant bag each of fish and chips. It was kind of like carrying a baby. We went and sat by Christchurch and ate our food with desperate enthusiasm. We didn't actually go into Christchurch; in Dublin, many museums are free, but churches charge admission.

Outside Christchurch with my fish&chips baby - note the glazed expression, courtesy of zero sleep

Next we needed something to wash our food down (or, as it turned out, to mingle with the food in our stomachs to produce a concrete-like mixture). We headed to a large Irish pub called O'Neill's, which we later learned had some history; it's been O'Neill's since 1927, but the building itself is 150 years old. It featured gorgeous dark woodwork spread over two floors, and even at 4 in the afternoon there were the requisite red-faced older guys haunting the corners. A 3-piece band (fiddle, guitar, accordion) was playing in the next room, and the last song they did before we left was "Rocky Road to Dublin." Perfect.  And of course, what else could we get at O'Neill's? Had to be Guinness.

Again, note the persisting glazed expression.

The next day was Friday, and after a very enjoyable breakfast of toast & jam at the hostel we packed up and walked one minute to the next hostel, Globetrotter's, a smaller place with a B&B feel, where we shared a dorm room with a couple of quiet guys, and a pair of extremely loud Scandinavian (?) girls.

Our first stop of the day was Dublin Castle, a structure erected in 1204. We arrived to find a large sign announcing that the castle was closed until July because "Ireland is hosting the EU Presidency." The sign noted that "The Library" was still open, so we checked it out. Feelings of disappointment dissipated immediately upon entering the first exhibit of "The Library." 

The Untouchable Dublin Castle, as seen from the door of the Chester Beatty Library

The Chester Beatty Library is a stunning collection of literary and artistic artifacts dating back hundreds and hundreds of years, most of them collected by Chester Beatty in his travels through Asia around the 1920s. The main exhibit was a "history of the book" display, with hundreds of manuscripts and artworks exemplifying the best in Eastern and Western illumination, illustration, calligraphy, and bookbinding. There were even video screens showing contemporary scholars reproducing said works in absolutely intricate detail using period tools and techniques. Needless to say I got pretty excited, and it was difficult to leave. For more info check out http://www.cbl.ie/.

Next we wandered around Temple Bar for a while, looking for somewhere to eat. In Temple Bar it's common practice for restaurants to have an employee standing in the street with a menu or pamphlets, accosting people as they walk by. We ended up settling on a nice, "traditional" restaurant.

And what did we have for our second lunch? Big surprise!

The Guinness Storehouse was our next destination. It took a bit of wandering to stumble upon it, but stumble we did, though we were close to calling it a day and going home to consult a map. We paid the hefty admission price and toured through what was essentially a Guinness museum, or a shrine deifying Arthur Guinness, depending which way you look at it. It was very well put-together, though I was disappointed that we didn't actually get to see any parts of the active brewery. The tour, which spanned 6 floors, ended in a large circular viewing room on the top floor, where we exchanged our ticket for a "free" pint and enjoyed a panoramic view of the city.

Starting to sense a theme? Brock + Lauren in the Sky Lounge.

Perhaps you, our dear family & friends, can solve a conundrum for us. As we were walking through Temple Bar this particular day, a couple of young girls (14 years old or so) came up and shyly asked Lauren if they could have their picture taken with her. Lauren, taken aback, said yes, and the girls took a picture and ran off. At first we checked to make sure we still had our wallets, suspecting a scam. But nothing was missing. So, the only thing we could conclude was that Lauren must have looked particularly like a celebrity that day. So here's the question:

Name that Celebrity!

After a pit-stop at the hostel we headed to the Duke Pub, another heritage-rich establishment, and took part in a "Literary Pub Crawl." It was a tour of four pubs, led by a pair of actors who regaled us with historical tales and acted out a couple of scenes from famous Irish literary works (the first scene they did was from Beckett's "Waiting for Godot"). It was an extremely amusing and enlightening way to see some of Dublin's oldest pubs, though by the end of it I'd given up on the Guinness in favour of something a touch lighter. 

Dublin Literary Pub Crawl: O'Neill's At Night

Realizing that we'd skipped dinner, we went in search of food before bed, settling on a hilarious diner situated on the main drag, complete with jukebox (one of us got really excited about the jukebox).

The Jukebox

Eddie Rocket's Diner, pictured the next day

Saturday was our last day in Dublin! We feasted on a full "Irish Breakfast" at the hostel - sausage, eggs (scrambled & poached), a warm slice of tomato (???), thick ham/bacon, toast, coffee etc. etc. Good, solid stuff. I went out and finally managed to visit a few bookstores, and since it was a beautiful morning I took some shots of the city itself.

The River Liffey runs right through downtown Dublin, emptying into the Irish Sea

O'Connell St, Dublin's main drag. Our hostels were both just east of O'Connell.

For our last lunch in Dublin, we lamentably didn't have fish & chips. Instead we headed to the venerable Stag's Head, built in 1770 and touted by our Lonely Planet guide as "possibly the best traditional pub in Dublin (and therefore the world)." We started with a pair of Irish coffees, with the "Irish" being poured straight out of barrels mounted on the walls, and between us enjoyed sausage & chips & sandwiches & soup & a fantastic, fresh seafood chowder. The pub, smaller than I'd expected, did indeed possess a fantastic, mysterious atmosphere, and didn't disappoint with the decor, featuring a gargantuan elk's head hanging above the bar.

Irish Coffee...

...straight from the barrel!

The Stag's (elk's) Head

Burdened once more by heavy stomachs we went to check out the infamous Trinity College, taking in a display of the Book of Kells (a heavily-illuminated copy of the four gospels c. ~800) and the Old Library, which contains some 200,000 old books in a cavernous vaulted room.

Trinity College

The Old Library

The Old Library (detail)

And that, dear friends, sums up very well our Dublin experience. We spent a bit of time reading in our hostel, finally feeling our energy levels flagging for good. We went to bed fairly early, because the following morning we were up at 5am to catch the bus to the airport for our flight home.

BONUS ROUND - NOTTINGHAM

Since Ryanair wasn't running any direct flights from Dublin-Marseille on that Sunday, we ended up with an 8-hour layover in East Midlands Airport, a tiny airport in the UK. After determining that the airport's main attraction was a snack machine, we decided to explore other options for passing the time and ended up taking a bus to Nottingham. Yes, Nottingham, of Robin Hood fame!

The bus dropped us downtown and we wandered for a bit, taking in the British scenery, before stumbling entirely accidentally on the perfect place to spend our time - a tearoom. We enjoyed a decadent lunch of tea, coffee, scones and crumpets. I had to begrudgingly concede that lunch in Nottingham was at least somewhat nicer than eating peanut M&Ms for 8 hours in the airport.

Nottingham!!!

What could this be?

Buttered crumpets and the best cup of coffee I've had in months.

The Full Spread.

All the best!

-Brock