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Published: December 26th 2007
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One End
This statue is at one end of O'Connell (?) street, the flagpole in the middle, and the other statue marks the end of that district. Greetings from Dublin! It's St. Stephen's Day here (Boxing Day in the UK and Canada) so little is open... but the weather's pleasant, leaves still green on the trees. I'll add pictures in a day or two, when I'm not posting from a per-minute internet connection.
The thing most striking so far is that all the signs are in both English and Gaelic... though I've yet to hear anyone speaking the latter. So far, the Irish accent isn't bothering me anywhere near as much as the Scots'... and everyone is very friendly, helpful, pleasant.
I saw a pub, and inscribed in the stone is "Established 1777, renovated 1928" Gotta appreciate the tenure.😊
Post Script: It's now early AM on the 30th, and I've departed Ireland, and have been enjoying Scotland and the hospitality of Bruce & Anne, a couple falconer friends, for the past few days. You can read about that and see pictures of beautiful Scotland in the next entry. Meanwhile, I'll tell a bit more about the day in Dublin.
I'd bought an all-day bus pass for 6 Euros, and since nothing was open til at least 10 or 11 am, elected to use the
Waterfront
Along the river, the shops are quite colorful. pass to ride around some, see the sights. That turned out to be the best part of Dublin. The bus driver was a musician, and he and I spent some time between runs jamming. I played my guitar and he got out his tin whistles and we had a great time! Such moments are a rare treat, and I almost wished I hadn't left my backpack & recorder in the Left Baggage area at the airport. We exchanged info and I hope we'll stay in touch.
He recommended a pub that would be most pleased to have me play some, and I headed off for it. Unfortunately, it being a holiday, they didn't open til 3:30 PM, so I satisfied my hunger with an odd sort of gyro from Abbacadabra, took a few more photos, and headed on back to the airport.
Back at the airport, I wasn't able to check in for the flight til 3 hours before boarding time, so it was pretty much just waiting around, getting more tired by the minute. Remembering the driver's words, I thought I'd sip on a pint of Guiness and play my guitar as I wiled away the hours.
A lamp at sunrise
I'll give 'em this much: Dublin's lamp posts are a treat. After all, when in Ireland, what better way to pass the time? Bad idea, I suppose.
I quickly found out that Ireland is about at pathetically and neurotically controlling as anywhere else in the supposedly civilized world. I sat near another musician and played a bit. After about 10 minutes, some employee came over and told me I couldn't play the guitar. I asked why that might be, and who'd ordered it. He said the manager (whom I'd just tipped 80 pence, making it a $7.50 beer.) I informed him that the only reason I'd bought the beer was to sit and play, so if I wasn't allowed to, they could take their beer back and forget about it. Long story made short, they wouldn't take the beer back (even though I'd barely touched it) and called the police, who backed up the bar (what a suprise there) in requiring that I leave, sans beer and $7.50. They did me the favor of not prosecuting me for playing an instrument in a public place without the owner's permission! I was furious, couldn't imagine such a thing, (let alone the insult of the manager's analogy that they wouldn't allow someone
to yell and scream in the bar either,) or that the police wouldn't have at least told them to give me back my money. But of course it's their country, and their way is the only way.
So... great way to finish off a wasted day and blow about $40 all told. ($10 for Left Bag, $9 for bus ticket, $4 for a coffee and roll to go, $4.75 for the gyro, $7.50 for the beer I never even got to drink...) The next time someone tries to talk up an Irish love of folk music, remember not to take 'em seriously in an airport. An airport... the place where people have to sit around and wait for their transportation. No where else on the planet have I encountered such a thing. So sharp a contrast from the bus driver. So sharp a contrast from the pubs. So... Dublin Airport's bar and their police can both kiss my Yank ass. The rest of the country might be alright (if a bit pricey,) but that bar scrapes.
Sleep deprivation is standard fare when traveling, all the more pronounced when going from to the east (and losing hours on the
Modern Tram, Ancient Destination
All the signs are in Gaelic as well as English, even the destinations. way.) I snagged a sandwich and cafe mocha, then spent most of the time in a restless sleep, hugging my guitar close, rested atop the pack and camp-bag, waiting to be allowed to check in. All told, it was 13 hours in Dublin, to wait on a 35 minute flight on to Glasgow.
That experience at the bar put a serious damper on a mixed-bag experience in Dublin, and left a rather bitter taste in my mouth. Gratefully, Scotland lies ahead, and is a much better time!
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