Week 5 in London, part 2

Our Trip to Ireland:

Mike and I flew into Dublin Thursday morning, got checked into our hotel room by noon, and then went exploring. I had downloaded Rick Steve's travel guide before leaving London, and it proved to be really useful. It directed us to the front gate of Trinity College, where we caught a historical tour of Dublin from a PhD student in history at the University of Dublin. His name was Donal Fallon, and he was fabulous--funny, knowledgable, opinionated, but not bigoted. 

Donal Fallon, our Dublin guide

We thoroughly enjoyed the two-plus hours we spent with him learning about Dublin's culture and history. Apparently he teaches a class on the subject as a part-time job.

A big part of the tour was Dublin's large collection of monuments. The latest is the "spire of light," designed by a famous architect and costing a fabulous sum of money. It has inspired cheers and jeers--perhaps more of the latter. Mike asked what it "meant," and Donal said that, when it was first erected about a decade ago, during the economic boom, it was supposed to represent the rise of Ireland. Oops. Since then, most people say it doesn't represent anything. It's safer that way, as monuments loaded with unpopular meanings tend to get blown up in Dublin.

Spire of Light, Dublin, Ireland

Most of the monuments still standing commemorate Irish political figures, such as Jim Larkin, founder of the Irish Labour Party and socialist activist.

Jim Larkin, founder of Irish Labour Party, Dublin

The plaque on the other side of Larkin's monument bears this inscription, by Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh:

And tyranny trampled them in Dublin's gutter

Until Jim Larkin came along and cried

The call of freedom and the call of pride

And slavery crept to its hands and knees

And nineteen thirteen cheered from out the utter

Degradation of their miseries.

(1913 was the year of the Dublin Lockout, a labor dispute Larkin played a major role in.)

Charles Parnell, founder of the Irish Parliamentary Party

We also saw monuments to Charles Parnell, founder of the Irish Parliamentary Party, and Daniel O'Connell, known as the "liberator," who fought for Catholic emancipation and the restoration of an Irish parliament. Donal told us O'Connell is the most respected of all the political activists and described him as moderate (he wanted Ireland to gain rights but remain a part of Great Britain) but passionately committed to his religion (Catholicism) and his people. At his death he said, "Bury my body in Dublin; bury my heart in Rome."

Daniel O'Connell, the "liberator"

At the base of O'Connell's monument is a sculpture of a woman representing Hibernia, the symbol of Ireland. (The Romans called Ireland Hibernia, which means "land of perpetual winter.") She is represented leading a group composed of all the different ranks and orders of society--all of Ireland standing behind the ideals of the Irish revolution.

Hibernia, symbol of Ireland, at base of O'Connell monument

Donal also took us into the old Irish Parliament building, now housing the Bank of Ireland. When it was constructed, it was the first "dual chamber purpose-built parliament building in the world." Unfortunately, it was an entirely unrepresentative parliament. Only university-educated, landholding, and of course male Protestants could be members. Male university-educated Protestant landholders made up about 3% of the Protestant population, and Protestants made up about 10% of the Irish population. All Protestants were descended from English settlers--either the "old English" who came in with Edward I's conquest in the 13th century, or the "new English" who were given estates in Ireland when Cromwell conquered the Irish in the 1640s. The latter group, in particular, had strong ties to England and were perfectly willing to take their marching orders from the government there (particularly if the orders were sweetened with a bribe). So, when the English government decided, on the heels of an Irish uprising in 1798, to dissolve the Irish Parliament and bring a select number of its members into the Parliament at Westminster, the Irish MPs voted themselves out of existence, and the building has served as a bank ever since.

  

Front of the Irish Parliament building

The lion and the unicorn at the front of the Parliament building are symbols of English royalty, showing the real power within the building. In the Lords chamber inside, there are two massive tapestries, both depicting pivotal moments in Ireland's history that just happen to be times of English or Irish Protestant heroism.  One shows William III--the Protestant King the English Parliament invited to take the crown in 1689, after booting out the Catholic Stuart King James II--and his victory over James II and his Irish supporters at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690.

Tapestry depicting William III's victory over James II at the Battle of the Boyne

The other is a depiction of the Siege of Derry, a Protestant stronghold in the north of Ireland. Deposed King James II and his Catholic forces laid siege to it for three months in 1689 before being relieved by William's forces. You can still spot signs in the area that say "Londonderry: Still under Siege."

Tapestry depicting Siege of Derry, 1689

Following our tour, Mike and I walked to St. Patrick's Cathedral for evensong, a choral church service. The music was glorious, particularly in the acoustically perfect setting of that 13th century cathedral.

After the service, we looked around the building. It was full of wonderful history, like an ancient stone cross, purportedly marking the site of a holy well built by St. Patrick, who brought Christianity to Ireland in the 5th century.

St. Patrick's Well marker in St. Patrick's Cathedral

There were also several monuments to Jonathan Swift, the author of Gulliver's Travels and "A Modest Proposal."  

Jonathan Swift monument, St. Patrick's Cathedral

Did you know that Swift was the Dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral from 1713-1745? I had no idea he was a churchman, and very little remembrance that he was an Irishman, but his face is everywhere in Dublin. So are his acerbic comments, like his opinion of the Irish Parliament, situated right across the street from Trinity College. He said it was "half a bowshot from the college, and half a world from any knowledge."

Mike had nabbed a hotel on Priceline, right in downtown Dublin for a very reasonable price, and it was nice--small but comfortable. We slept in the next morning, had breakfast, then walked back to Trinity College to stand in a long, but fairly quick-moving, line to see the Book of Kells, an illuminated manuscript of the first four books of the New Testament. Sam and I watched the animated movie about the book a year or so ago and really liked it--unusual, creative animation, and a nice introduction to the manuscript. The introductory display was excellent, very informative. Seeing the actual book, after seeing the greatly magnified images of the display, was shocking. How, how, how could those 9th century monks have created the amazing detail in the illustrations on such a tiny scale? Take a look online; it's stunning.

http://digitalcollections.tcd.ie/home/index.php?DRIS_ID=MS58_003v

After seeing the book, we grabbed some sandwiches and got on the road to Dingle, on the opposite side of the island.

Our rental car was the only yellow car we saw in three days in Ireland.  Do you think people guessed we were tourists?:

Tourist alert

We'd hoped it would take us four hours to get there, but it actually took more than five. (We got back quicker, after learning the way.). But much of the drive was beautiful. Dingle is a popular seaside village, and it was packed with tourists. As in London, there has been no rain here for a couple of weeks. Make that "had." It rained on us several times, lightly and very heavily, in both Dublin and Dingle. The weather was amazingly changeable: from drizzly, to hot and sunny, to a complete soaker, to cloudy and grey all in the space of a couple of hours. Locals still consider this lovely weather, because it is not CONSTANTLY raining, and it did make for some nice, atmospheric views. We had dinner at a cozy restaurant called Fenton's, then walked up to St. James's Church on Main Street to attend an Irish traditional music concert. It was wonderful. We heard Irish pipes, the "low whistle," an accordion, guitar, and harmonica (played in a very evocative and mournful tribute to Amy Winehouse). My favorite was the guitar-playing and singing of Tommy O'Sullivan. 

Tommy O'Sullivan performing in Dingle, summer 2013

Dingle is pricey, but we found a good deal on a room a short walk from the Main Street. Turned out that it was attached to a nightclub, and many of the people staying there were either at the nightclub or some other watering hole until about 2:30 AM, when they returned with much hooting and stomping. But we got back to sleep and woke to a very pretty, misty, slightly rainy morning.

We spent our day driving the Slea Head road around the Dingle Peninsula, stopping on Rick Steve's orders to see sights like an 8th century hill fort.

8th Century hill fort, Slea Head Road, Dingle Peninsula

Mike in the hill fort

The fort was perched on the edge of a cliff, and a good portion of it has already fallen into the sea.

Ruins of hill fort, Dingle Peninsula

We also saw stone "beehive houses," used from the medieval period all the way up to the 19th century, and the only perfectly preserved "oratory" or stone chapel in Ireland.

Jenny in stone Beehive House, Dingle Peninsula

Mike at stone oratory, Dingle Peninsula

Amazing stone work at the oratory, Dingle Peninsula

Ruins of an 8th century monastery, Dingle Peninsula

Rock carving, Dingle Peninsula

Like Scrooge, I was surprised at finding my own headstone (inscription reads "JHP")

All along the drive, we had stunning views.

Views on Dingle Peninsula

Misty view, Dingle Peninsula

We reached Slea Head around noon, just as the sun came out, and spent some time walking and wading on the beach.

Beach at Slea Head

Jenny at beach at Slea Head

 Then we walked up the headland to eat our lunch, looking out over the Atlantic.

Slea Head view

This peninsula is the most westward point in Europe, so, as the Irish say, "the next parish over is Boston." As we finished lunch, it began to rain, and we realized that we'd reached the beach at the one perfect time, before the tide came in, and while the sun was out. 

We ended our trek around 4 pm and then headed back to Dublin, this time taking the "dangerous" route over Connor Pass. It was not as scary as, say, Hell's Backbone up on Boulder Mountain, but there were frequent bits only one car wide. We were very glad we didn't meet any buses on our way.  Lots of lovely views of County Kerry from the top. 

Here's an Irish sheep grazing on Connor Pass (this one's for Katie, who loves Scottish coos).

We stopped midway to Dublin for a pleasant dinner at a pub in Adare. (The TVs there were showing a match of Australian football--a blend between American football and soccer. No helmets or padding, and the ball is round, but all the players can carry the ball AND throw it or kick it, and you can score points either by kicking the ball into the net or throwing it through the goal posts. It was very fast-moving and fun.)

We had a fabulous time. Mike and I are feeling really lucky to have this extended time together. We're busy, but removed from many of the daily demands of home that take us away from each other. It's like one of those months-long European honeymoons from a Trollope novel. We think we should make it a regular habit.