Dublin is a lovely capital city. Like most European capitals it sits on a river, the River Liffey, that divides it in into a north and south half. I visited Dublin the weekend before I went back to school, and the good fortune to stay with a native. Shane (with a typical Irish last name) is a friend of my school mate Erika and her boyfriend, Marcel, when they lived in Geneva and he graciously put us up in his apartment.
The fact that we had a tour guide meant we also had access to wheels, which meant we drove by a lot of things. Though I saw the spire built for the Millennium, the General Post Office—a historical site for the Irish independence movement—and various statues, it also meant I didn’t get to take photos of them. What we did see was lovely. There was Trinity College, the oldest in Ireland and home to the Book of Kells (which is usually on display for gleeful tourists such as I, but believe it or not, was being cleaned!). We took a stroll along Grafton Steet, the shopping promenade, and through St. Stephen’s Park. We visited the Dáil (Irish for Parliament) and took in the Nation Museum which had some very cool Bog Men.
We also devoted an entire three hours to the Guinness Factory in St. James Gate, which is best described as intense. It’s a massive factory with 7 floors detailing every aspect of brewing: ingredients, the brewing process, transportation, advertisement. Then on the top floor there’s a viewing gallery and a free (with admission) pint of Guinness. Not being a lover of "Irish gold" as it’s called, I took the requisite photos and passed my brew on to a more deserving person, Erika’s boyfriend Marcel.
While I didn’t do a lot of touristy things in Dublin I was able to conduct various anthropological experiments and experienced the local culture more than I have in other cities. Translation: I went to the pubs. I was with friends and in Ireland and was told that’s the thing to do. I have to say that Ireland is a lovely place and the people are just fantastic. They’re very friendly, extremely hospitable (Shane wouldn’t let us pay for anything), jovial, born story-tellers and always eager for a chat (I had a five minute conversation with the elderly man at the off-license who sold me my liquor). They’re my new favourite people.
And true to form, it rained. It rained, at least a little, each day. Until it poured cats and dogs on the last day, butchering any last-minute plans we had to conquer the city’s tourist traps.
2 comments:
If the Irish are your new favourite people then at least half of me is one of your favourite people, as well. Score! :)
Aaawww, you were always one of my favourite people.
Post a Comment