Day Three

Friday, June 26th, 2009

After a night of restful sleep, I eagerly gulped down our continental breakfast (read: small bowl of cereal and croissant) in preparation for our exciting day. Surely, I thought, surely we will have a chartered bus today. But alas, it was not to be. I soon learned we would be taking the Luas, a public transit system. Well, I reconciled, at least that would be a break for my aching legs and feet. HA. After being dropped off near the Guinness Storehouse, it was at least a half mile to our first destination of the day: Kilmainham Gaol.

Gaol = Jail. Get it? It’s old English. You just learned something today.

I was a bit hesitant about our tour of some old jail. I mean, how much fun can a jail really be? Aren’t the purposes of jails to make life NOT fun? Of course, being the uneducated American that I am, I failed to realize the cultural significance of the jail. Built well over two hundred years ago, the jail held criminals (obviously), citizens who purposefully committed crimes to escape the Potato Famine, 1916 rebels, and people who chose the “wrong” side of the Irish Civil War (many of whom who had being previously held for the 1916 uprising and were now back in prison being held by former comrades).

I do admit, the jail was pretty cool. The large central room harkened memories of Alcatraz (though predating it obviously) and we could see the jail cells that each member of the 1916 Easter Uprising occupied before they were executed. We were also able to walk through the older and original part of the jail and see actual graffiti done by the prisoners held there. They also had a museum featuring articles from the members of the 1916 uprising, such as letters, rosary beads, and even a wedding ring.

After Kilmainham, we took the tram back to the city center and met up with a tour guide for a 1916 Walking Tour. I know what you’re thinking—a “walking tour”? Sounds boring! But let me tell you, boring was the last thing it was. To begin with, our tour guide (named Lorcan) was pretty much the coolest person I’ve ever met. He wears slacks and a jacket…with red converse. Then, right as he’s beginning to explain the Easter Uprising at the post office, some asshole in a car stopped at the light starts heckling him (apparently the locals like to do that).

Not missing a beat, Lorcan turned to him and shouted “Oh, did your mummy not pay enough attention to you when you were a little bambino? All right, we’ll ALL pay attention to you now. Feck off!” Great right? Not to mention he talked a mile (or kilometer I guess I should say considering I’m in Metric-land) a minute, jumping between tangents (“So as you can see the post office was an ideal spot to gain control—oh nice shirt, I love that band, I have them on my iPod. Do you listen to ‘em when you get high? This is the last tour I do high, man” and “Where do you think Bush is these days? Probably off writing his memoirs—in crayon.”)

He took us back up to Dublin Castle, then we cut across to the National Museum. So again, walking across Dublin multiple times. We bid goodbye to Lorcan at the museum, asking him for pub recommendations (this will come in handy later). Our tour leader, Mark, then led us on a brief tour of the museum, showing us some really old gold jewelry, medieval church relics, etc. But the real prize was seeing the Bog Bodies. Yes, Bog Bodies. Ireland has quite a few bogs around, and apparently they act as an extremely good preserving agent, yielding something akin to mummified bodies. We could still see the faces on some of them, or perfectly preserved hands. One even still had hair. Creepy, right?

After the museum, we were released on our own with the promise to meet at the Abbey Theatre promptly at 7:15. (They abide by the 7:30 curtain as well. Go Chico!) A girl named Kristin mentioned having seeing a famous fish and chips place on the travel channel and a group wuickly formed to find this sacred eatery. We ended up hiking BACK the way we came (all the way up to Christchurch—I really wish I had packed a pedometer.) Apparently Kristin didn’t realize that this restaurant served half a dolphin (or possibly a baby beluga)—sized fish and a least a sack of potatoes of chips. The take away bag had weight to it that I’ve never experienced before. Needless to say, none of us finished it (though it was very delicious).

Now full of breaded fish and potatoes, we had to walk all the way back to NCI to get changed for the theatre. (Honestly, I think I spent the most time in Dublin walking than doing anything else—I just want you all to appreciate how much exercise I’m getting). For any of you who took DK’s class last semester, you’ll remember the Abbey Theatre as being the national theatre of Ireland. And today we were going to see a world premiere play, Last Days of a Reluctant Tyrant. Don’t shoot me, but I don’t remember the playwright off the top of my head, and seeing as how I’m writing this on a bus (yes, FINALLY), I don’t exactly feel like digging through all my stuff to find the script. (Yes, I bought the script. Yes, you can read it. Yes, there are good monologues. You’re welcome.)

The set was AMAZING. It was constructed entirely out of real wood—wood floors and everything. There were three levels in a half-circle shape that took up the entire shape of the stage. The lighting was equally awesome—The whole set had a barn-like feel, and they had a light that would shine through a window on the third level that mimicked the sun. The acting was okay (many good choices and many BAD choices were made) and the script…needed work. But at least now I can say I’ve seen a show at the Abbey.

After the theatre, it was decided that the Fish&Chips group were going to go to one of the pubs Lorcan recommended. So we quickly changed out of our theatre finery and set out for the pub. A surprisingly short walk, Kennedy’s is frequented completely by locals despite it’s prime location under a DART (That’s Dublin Area Rapid Transit for any of you who couldn’t convert from BART) bridge and on the quays of the River Liffey. Once we had all gotten our pints of Guinness, we settled in for a good time.

That good time came in the form of a local named Gavin. He was sitting at the table next to us and, probably hearing our obvious American accents, he leaned over and asked us if we were from America. Why yes, how did you know? He then proceeded to ask each one of us where we were from. And each place (including Arkansas and Boise, Idaho) was followed by excited cries of “I’ve BEEN THERE!” His very drunk friend leaned over and told us that he’s “been in more rock bands than you’ve had hot meals, and you should know because you’re AMERICAN.”

Gavin put on some music and told us that it was some band from Seattle that we should know and started doing very interesting dancing. (Ask me about it, I’ll show you.) After Kennedy’s, we decided to find another bar and went to one around the corner and up the street, hoping to stumble upon another great gem. When we walked into the bar, however, we were treated to the melodious sounds of Kevin Bacon telling us to kick off our Sunday shoes and get “Footloose”.

But we stayed anyway. After all, a bar’s a bar, right?

Next stop: Power’s Court Gardens, Glendalough

(And maybe a bus?)

(Lorcan, Inside Kilmainham)