The Goliard Online - Reviews, opinion, complaints, original writing, analysis, humor, and pith
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The Snapper's Tour of Ireland Part 1: Dublin
Dublin airport is not the behemoth that Heathrow is, and thank St. Patrick and his slithering friends for that! The seemingly overly cramped international terminal is undergoing an expansion however, I suppose to keep pace with the boom that is taking place all around Dublin. The customs agent was a chap who looked like he had been out all night discussing the Irish situation at some local pub. With a five o’clock shadow and leather jacket, his only pressing question for me was how long I planned to stay in Ireland. The Irish lass at the tourist information blessed me with a helpful smile that seemed to suggest she would happily close up shop and take the next week off to show me around her wonderful countryside. In the end however, I would have to settle for a 5 Euro Airlink bus ticket into Dublin.
Upon arriving at Bewley’s Principal Hotel in the heart of the Temple Bar District, the receptionist greeted me with a matronly “are you ok?” It was only then that I realized how windblown and generally disheveled I must have appeared. In general, I was a mess! I was told that the only non-smoking room available was room 405. She said this as if I might be familiar with room 405 due to some local legend that surrounded it or unseemly occurrence that had gone down there on some misty night in the past. I asked why there was a problem with room 405. Had there been some sort of incident there of which I was supposed to have knowledge? Had that been the room number in "The Shining" that little Danny wasn't supposed to enter? Had there been a feature on the Telly about room 405? I was told that, no, there was no problem. Then she called over her supervisor and asked in whispered tones if she could put someone (me) in room 405. Again I demanded to know what the deal was with the room. The supervisor stepped forward and told me in a calming, lilting voice that room 405 was simply a little small. Relieved, I accepted my key and headed up. As it turned out, room 405 was ideal for the solo traveler such as myself. It was located at the end of the hall on the top floor facing the back of the hotel. The room was everything I desired - non-smoking, private, cozy, quiet and when the drapes were closed, it could just as easily have been night as day on the other side. The room was equipped with an updated shower and bathroom, TV, and a little desk. I will definitely request room 405 next time I visit Dublin on my own.
The next morning I had some time to kill before my 2:25 PM train to Galway so I said my goodbyes to room 405 and made my way to, what someone had told me, was a necessary morning stop. The place is Keogh’s Bakery where Dublin’s professionals line up in the morning drizzle for fresh raspberry scones. I settled in to a table in the corner with a large cappuccino and scone and enjoyed a relaxing slice of the Dublin morning.
Notes from Dublin: Pints of Guinness: 10 Next up, Part Two – Galway
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They
were right; a pint of Guinness is not the same in the states. Like
the Irish told me time and again, “The Guinness doesn’t travel
well.” My first pint of Guinness on the Emerald Isle was in the 
The
night before was seeming like a long time gone at the O St. John given
that I had boarded Air Lingus flight 144 from Los Angeles to Dublin
less than 24 hours ago. Armed with only a few hours of restless slumber but plenty
of ambition, I had hit the Irish ground running despite being a
little worse for wear. Shortly after
boarding my flight I had been informed by an ever so serious flight
attendant that the personal video/audio system in my section was not
working due to an electrical shortage in the plane. Then seconds later, I was also
informed in the same serious tone that all in flight drinks would be
on the house. As you might well imagine, this was a deal I could
live with. As we banked hard over the Irish Sea on our final
approach into Dublin and I tipped my last glass of free swill, there was little doubt
which country we were swooping down upon. I
have never seen so many shades of green.
When
I arrived in the Dublin city center, the welcoming weather could not decide if it would rain
or shine. One thing was for certain however and that was that the wind would howl. The bus
dropped me off at O'Connell Bridge, one of the many that crosses
the River Liffey, which bisects the city of Dublin. The river makes
for a nice scenic stroll along either bank and is a navigational safety net that
makes it easy to get your bearings to avoid ever being lost in this
friendly city. I attempted to orient myself and, in my state of jet
lag, spent twenty minutes looping around my eventual place of
lodging rather than walking
for a few hundred yards straight over O'Connell Bridge, which would have taken
me right to the front doorstep.
After
a blissful shower, a change of clothes, and a much-needed cleaning
of the teeth, I was out the door. If there is one thing I have learned
about dealing with jet lag upon arrival in Europe or any other far-off destination, it is to get out and keep moving until at least 9 PM local
time. Taking my own advice instead of hitting the 405 hay (which is
what I actually felt like doing) I made my way to Trinity College for
a viewing of the often
overly hyped Book of Kells at the 
Following
my visit to Trinity College, I did what I often do upon first arriving
in a new city, I hopped on the 
The next morning I made what would
prove to be one of the better decisions of the entire trip. I
elected to go on the 
On
our way out of town, Flood pulled to the side of the road along a
beautiful tree lined street outside the Swiss Embassy and personally
greeted each and every person on board. During this ceremony,
an aged bloke name John, who by the way, bore a striking resemblance
to Flood himself, was sitting nearby playing us a peppy tune. There
was not an ounce of psuedo showmanship from Mr. Flood but rather his
genuine nature came shining through and created an atmosphere of
camaraderie among our group that would last throughout the day. I
was surprised to find that I was the only American on our
fifteen-passenger bus. There were a few Canadians, British, Poles,
Germans, and French, Hong Kong, Chinese and even a Malaysian. I
answered the obligatory questions about how it was possible that
Bush had been re-elected and sat back to enjoy the scenery.
The
tour served up a huge dose of Irish history, ancient and modern as
well as social history, geological information and facts about the impact of
Irish integration to the European Union. Mr. Flood was a maestro,
weaving an endless symphony of details and information while answering
questions, snapping pictures, playing music at appropriate times and
even offering some philosophical advice about life. The tour
consisted of a short city route, a coastal drive past DunLoaghaire
Harbor, Dalkey and Killiney (Home to Dublin’s rich and famous).
The bus then proceeded past the mountain lakes, wild heather and
desolate boglands where the movie Braveheart was filmed. We stopped
for coffee at the Glencree Reconciliation Center. Nestled in a
beautiful valley the center makes it's home in what was once a
seminary and provided housing for wayward boys.
What
makes Glencree so special a place are the things that happen there. For 40 years 
When
I returned to Dublin I was still filled with the energy that comes
with journeying to new spots on the globe (especially much
anticipated spots like
Ireland) so I decided to
walk up Grafton Street, which is home to Dublin’s lively, musician filled,
pedestrian only shopping area. I continued into the scenic park
known as St. Stephens Green and looped back around into the Temple
Bar. When you have found a good thing it is hard not to go back for more
so I again darkened the entrance to Gogarty’s for more Guinness, more music and more
coddle. I now felt I deserved the three pints of Guinness I was
about to drink. I ended up sitting at a table of young blokes and
trading stories about travel well into the wee hours.
I
then shouldered my bag and hoofed it twenty minutes along the River Liffey to Heuston
Station. I lockered up my gear there for a few hours and headed to Dublin
Castle. My specific destination was not the castle itself but the 
If
I had the time and it wasn’t so crowded during the lunch rush I
would have eaten at the cafe inside the museum. It is always a good
sign when there is a professional lunch crowd that obviously made a
special trip to the museum just to eat at the restaurant. I soon
realized why so many had made the pilgrimage as the cafe had a wide
variety of piping hot lunch items including healthy portions of
vegetable Moussaka, salad and potatoes for 8 Euro. I will make a
point of eating here on my next visit. This time however I settled
for a bacon and smoked cheddar panini and a bag of Kettle Chips on
the train. As it turned out, I would finish my lunch before the
train pulled out of the station because our locomotive was broken
and needed to be replaced. We were delayed an hour and the heat was
broken in my coach but other than that it was a pleasant journey
with plenty of sheep and scenery out the window. On across eastward to
Galway!