Into the interior

 We've had two great days in Dublin, and hope we've done the city justice.  We didn't skoll pints of Guinness at Temple Bar like most tourists, but we did gain an excellent introduction to Irish history and what shapes the country today.  It's an expensive city - we're spending euros like dollars - and if I had a job in ICT here it wouldn't be a problem.  But with rapidly depreciating NZ dollars it's not the place we can linger too long.  Hopefully things will be a little cheaper in the country.

We check out of our Rialto BnB and head for the tram stop, wheeled suitcases in tow.  In minutes we're in town and on the express bus to the airport.  The airport?  Yup - we need to return our rental car for our flights to Heathrow and Singapore efficiently, so best to pick up and drop off at the airport.

After the cramped and noisy Yaris we've booked a Toyota Corolla equivalent, and find ourselves in a 2026 Seat Leon.  I know of Seat (a Spanish car make), but have never driven one, nor heard of a Leon.  It's roughly the size of a Corolla, and fits our suitcases in the boot without a problem.  In the Yaris we needed one on the back seat.  Performance, suspension and handling are much better than the Yaris, but the biggest issue is that it's an ICE, not a hybrid, therefore it has no regen braking, and in D mode it coasts forever in the interests of efficiency.  Sport mode is only slightly better, but it's painful having to brake for corners rather than just lifting off.

Then I discover the paddles almost invisibly tucked behind the steering wheel.  Great - it has a manual override, not dissimilar to the DCT (dual clutch transmission) on my Africa Twin.  It helps a little, but keeps jumping back to Drive when it thinks I no longer need it.  Please, car, can I be the judge?  Looks like I need to read the manual in detail.  

But this generates an interesting observation on the increasing sophistication, ease of driving, lack of emissions and energy efficiency of EVs.  I've owned one for four years, and would never purchase an ICE again, hybrid or not.  And the latest generation of EVs are better and cheaper than my Atto.  Quite simply, the petrol ICE age is over, with Trump's dalliance in the Middle East hastening the demise.

So where to go in Ireland?  Most of our itinerary sees us hugging the coast, but there's plenty to see in the interior too.  We pick up an ancient tourist map to help us home in on the main attractions.  The book will fill in supplementary detail.  I'm particularly keen to understand more about the Salmon of Knowledge - but how do I know where to find it?

As we set off from Dublin Airport and head into the interior it feels like a transition on the way home.  England's drystone walls have given way to hedges, pastures are more lush and green, there're more cattle, houses are more modern and for a moment you could be forgiven for thinking you're back in NZ.  Until you meet the signs.  While regulatory signs are mostly symbolic and in English, informational and directional signs are bilingual.

Both on arterials

and back roads

I can't comprehend or properly pronounce Gaeilge - Ireland's first official language.  But you quickly come to recognise:

• Géill Slí - Give Way 
• Go Mall - Slow
• Scoile - School
• Paistí ag siúl - Children crossing.

Confusing?  Not at all.  It adds to the richness of the travelling experience.  I continue to be puzzled why there's such antipathy to adding Māori to our road signs, and put it down to a racist kneejerk reaction - the same one that torpedoed Three Waters.  Is it really so hard to add Kura to a School sign?

We stop in at Tesco's on the way to our BnB, and it's time for me to continue my highly unscientific commentary on the cost of living.  Here sirloin steak is €25/kg. That's $NZ50, so comparable.  

But the average wage in Ireland?  Around  €50k pa.  That's $100k vs NZ's $63k.  My hypothesis is holding.

A cynic might say that Ireland is a huge bog with pockets of dry land.  Historically that was pretty much the case, but over the centuries the bogs have been drained, cut, or reclaimed.  Fortunately some remain, and we check out Portach Chlárach, the Clara Bog Nature Reserve, not far from our BnB.  A 1km boardwalk has been kindly provided so we don't get our feet wet.  Or more importantly, sink into the bog never to be seen again.  Those who did hundreds of years ago are remarkably well-preserved due to the acidic bog environment.

Just as NZ is starting to recognise the value of its wetlands, so too is Ireland.  This area is now a protected nature reserve.  The Irish are re‑wetting the Clara Bog - raising the water table, blocking drains, reshaping cutover areas, and stabilising peat.  They are trying to return the bog to its natural, peat‑forming conditions, but are having a hugely difficult job getting moss and animal species re-established.  They may never come back, and some are extinct already.  Just as Joni Mitchell sang long ago, "Don't it always seem to go; That you don't know what you've got til its gone".

Our BnB near Pollagh is unassuming from the outside, but modern, comfortable and everything we could ask for on the inside.

The Seat is ready to go for tomorrow's adventures, as soon as I've cleaned the inside of the windscreen.  Just like the Yaris, an outgassing film has built up on the inside, it's devilishly hard to remove, and I can't just pop into my workshop for a bottle of isopropyl alcohol.  More downsides with the Leon - there are sensors but no reversing cameras, and no Qi pad to charge my phone while connected to Carplay.  How primitive!  But perhaps first world problems.

Day 2 - Athlone & surrounds

We're going back in time now - before the British made their presence felt in the 1600s.

Cluain Mhic Nóis (Clonmacnoise) is an early Christian monastic city established in AD 544.  It's located just south of Athlone at a unique point in Ireland's geography where an east-west route across the bogs (Slighe Mór) intersects the River Shannon.  It grew in power and influence, and by the 9th century had become one of Ireland’s most famous monastic centres, attracting scholars from across Europe, and was closely associated with the early Irish kings.

Like many ancient sites it's now an abandoned ruin.  The Vikings attacked it due to its wealth, and in the 13th century it was abandoned as nearby Athlone grew in influence.  

One tower remained reasonably intact.

Votive offerings - small tokens left at holy sites to ask for protection, give thanks, or honour the dead - are scattered around the site.  Pauline finds a coin in her pocket, and I'm left to wonder exactly what she's asking for.

It's good to see the ruins still serving a useful purpose.

We've been lucky with the weather for pretty much the whole trip.  Just the odd rainband that we could put up with for a couple of hours.  The afternoon wasn't looking bright though, with drizzle turning to rain forecast.  We were planning a walking tour along the Shannon in Athlone, taking in the old castle (closed for renovations) and Sean’s Bar, reputedly the oldest pub in Ireland.  Dated reliably at 900AD, it beats Dublin's Brazen Head by 300 years.  Not needing to stop for a Guinness, we decide on a drive-by instead.  Pretty unassuming actually.

Apparently it's possible to do a Viking ship cruise on Lough Ree, but we pass on that one.  In Dublin we saw the Viking tourist bus go past a number of times, with most of the passengers wearing Viking helmets.  The cringe factor is just too much to contemplate.  Perhaps half a century ago.  Instead with rain threatening we do a quick tiki tour of the south-eastern edge of Lough Ree to the north of Athlone and head for home.  Sometimes it's nice to have a rest in amongst the travel.  And of course there are always bills to pay and GST returns to do.

Tomorrow we're heading back towards the coast north of Dublin and back further in time - to the neolithic and a time of myths and legends.  Might we find some swans?  Stay tuned.

 

Two days in Dublin

 Day 1 - Thu 1 October - the big walking tour

Our BnB is in the Rialto district, not far from the Grand Canal.  It's about 5kms south-west from the heart of town, and being a beautiful sunny day the plan is to don our walking shoes and set off on a grand tour.  Much better to see a city on foot (or bike) than a car or bus.  While Dublin generally has good cycling infrastructure, in some critical places it doesn't, and being a relatively car-dominated city you need to have local knowledge and your wits about you to brave two wheels.

We quickly come to understand that there are a number of things Dubliners are passionate about, not necessarily in this order:

• Guinness
• Literary figures
• Revolution against the British
• Religion
• Hardship.

Our tour takes in all of these.

Our first stop was going to be the Kilmainham Gaol, but tickets for entry had already sold out for all of October.  Essentially, the Gaol is the story of Ireland’s struggle for independence from the British, and it housed and executed many Irish revolutionaries, especially from the 1916 Easter Rising.  The Rising was the spark that eventually led in a series of stages to Ireland's full independence in 1949.  This excluded Northern Ireland of course, which remains part of the United Kingdom.

Skipping the Gaol means we can head straight to...

We could have done the Guinness Warehouse tour - the heritage, the story, the taste, a complimentary pint.  A snip at €75 - that's $150 for the two of us.  There's only one problem - I really don't like stouts.  I get about half way through a pint of Guinness, feel as though I've had a somewhat unpleasant meal, and leave the remainder on the bar.  I know an Irishman would call me a peasant, but that's the way it is.  If I'm going to drink an Irish beverage I'll have a Kilkenny ale, thanks.

We walk on.  What else to see?   What about Ireland’s oldest pub, with a claimed founding date of 1198.

It wasn't open yet, so the Kilkenny can wait till later.  Exiting stage left is the truckie delivering kegs.  Now kegs weigh more than 70kg, and if you're an old fart like this guy (likely my age) you substitute brain for brawn.  Poetry in motion.

He expertly rolls the keg off the deck of the truck, it bounces on the cushion, and rolls straight as a die down the pathway to the cellar.  Mesmerising to watch.

The River Liffey splits Dublin in two, and needless to say it is now spanned by several bridges.  The cast iron Ha'penny Bridge was the first pedestrian bridge, replacing seven dilapidated ferries in 1816.  A half penny toll was in place for over 100 years.

Unfortunately I didn't have a chance to ask the Dubliner where he'd bought his hat.  It would have made an excellent objet d'art keepsake, and perfect for summer croquet.

Temple Bar, as our taxi driver pointed out yesterday, is not a single pub.  It's not even a street of pubs.  It's a network of streets and lanes containing over 20 different drinking establishments.  But it's not where Dubliners go to drink.  It's a tourist rip-off nightlife area where a pint of Guinness can set you back €10.  

We walk on from the pub scene to academia, and start to see a different side of Dublin at Trinity College.  William Lecky was one of Ireland’s most important historians and political thinkers in the late 1800s.  Behind him is the Campanile, Trinity’s 19th‑century bell tower.

Our primary reason for visiting Trinity College is the Book of Kells in the Old Library.  Not being well-versed in Irish or religious history I had no idea what it was.  Some ancient Celtic manuscript perhaps?  Hardly.  It's a very Christian, lavishly decorated, hand‑written copy of the four Gospels, created by monks around 800 AD.  It's considered a masterpiece of early Celtic art, and revered as such.

Stored in a darkened room under a perspex cover, photography of any sort isn't allowed.  The pages are vellum - processed calf skin.  Incredible that it's lasted over 1,200 years.

But it was upstairs in the Long Room that held the most fascination for me.

The Gaia artwork seems so completely out of place.  A 6m globe suspended from the ceiling, slowly rotating.  The intention is that Gaia, representing the beauty and fragility of the Earth, aligns with the Old Library Renovation Project safeguarding the 18th century building and contents for future generations.  It's a bit of a stretch.

Busts of famous philosophers, authors, scientists and politicians (not necessarily Irish) line the corridor.  The books stacked high give an impression of what the Bodleian might have looked like had it been open.

Goodness - looks like Isaac has popped up again.

You've seen an image of the 15th century Brian Boru harp before.  As well as the national emblem of Ireland, it's the Guinness logo.  This is Ireland’s oldest surviving harp.

A bit like our Treaty of Waitangi, the 1916 Proclamation printed during the Rising is regarded as the Republic's founding document.

I'd read Gulliver's Travels as a kid - the dumbed down version focusing on the adventures.

In reality, Swift's original publication in 1726 was a biting satire on the political, religious, and intellectual failures of his age.

A close-up of the globe.  Yes, we're in there under that long white cloud.

It's good to see recognition of female achievers too.  Here's Ada Lovelace, another IT visionary. 

Daughter of poet Lord Byron and mathematician Annabella Milbanke, she collaborated with Charles Babbage in the mid-1800s on his Analytical Engine, and was the first person to grasp the true potential of computers.  In the late 1970s the US DoD commissioned a computer language that combined mathematical rigor with engineering discipline for safety-critical systems.  They named it Ada in her honour.  It’s still used today in avionics, rail systems, satellites, and other environments where failure is not an option.

Plenty to see outside in the Trinity grounds.  The Sphere within Sphere sculpture reminds us that systems that look stable on the outside contain intricate, vulnerable mechanisms inside.

If it seems similar to Cortile della Pigna at the Vatican you're not mistaken.  Same artist, same concept.

The whimsical Apteros (Greek for "without wings") sculpture is a gentle, humorous metaphor for human ingenuity and limitation.

Lunchtime, so what better place than Bewleys.  Pauline's nephew Nik worked here while living in Dublin many years ago.

Our walk home is out of the hustle and bustle of downtown Dublin.  It takes us from the downstream end of the Grand Canal

past the locks (nearly lost Sam's Monkey here)

past the brae in the yellow tent on the other side (nearly lost Pauline here)

into the Iveagh Gardens and adjacent St Stephen's Green.  Like the Chinese Garden in Vancouver, an oasis to rest tired feet, relax and reflect.

James Joyce looms large

Ireland’s Great Famine of 1845–1852 wasn't just due to a potato blight.  It had social and political causes too that hardened the Irish against British rule and laissez-faire capitalism.  Over a million people died, and many fled on "coffin" ships as part of the great Irish diaspora.  Statues ensure the Irish will never forget.

As sombre as some parts of St Stephen's Green is, some are just pure delight.

We make it back to the BnB via Tesco's, and Pauline's counted another 22,000 steps.  As for the taxi driver's warnings - we had no concerns at all.  A bit of graffiti and a few rough sleepers, but no worse than you'd get in any large city.  But we didn't go any further north than the river bank - we return there tomorrow. 

Day 2 - the slightly shorter walking tour

After a glorious day yesterday the weather's looking a bit dubious for today, with rain forecast in the afternoon.  We'll take a raincoat just in case, walk in, and plan on returning by tram.

Speaking of which, it's a pleasure seeing trams/light rail in such a small city - less than 1.3m people.  Contrast that with Auckland's 1.5m+, where they can't even get a light rail project off the ground.  Can you imagine this scene in Auckland?

Trams on one side, and half a street converted to bidirectional cycle lanes.  Simeon Brown, one of the most incompetent Transport ministers we've ever had, would have a fit.   Cyclists are everywhere in Dublin, helmetless, street clothes, along with scooter riders and small electric pedal-assist motorbikes.  We even saw 10 year old kids doubling their mates riding down a busy street.  When you have safe infrastructure and drivers who treat vulnerable road users with respect, cyclists come out in droves.  It's not just the fearless 5%.

Perhaps one aspect of central Dublin that isn't so pleasant is the air pollution.  As opposed to Oxford there are no Zero Emission Zones, and there seems to be a higher percentage of the population who smoke.  As you round a corner it's almost guaranteed you'll be overwhelmed with cigarette smoke or exhaust fumes.  Keep your eyes on the ground, too.  The Irish love their dogs as much as the Brits, but don't seem to tidy up after them with the same fastidiousness.

With Pauline singing "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!" we stumble on Miss Molly Malone.  A fictional young fishmonger not based on any one person - more a symbol of Dublin’s working-class women romanticised in the 1800s.

I can't imagine why some aspects of her anatomy appear to be a different colour.  Just like the boar's snout in Florence I guess.

My family knows how to get me all teary-eyed - just ask me to read Oscar Wilde's The Selfish Giant.  So a visit to the house where he grew up can't be missed.

He was academically gifted, graduating with First Class Honours in Classics from Trinity College followed up with a Double First from Magdalen College at Oxford.  The late 1800s was a time when Victoria was in mourning for her late husband, and insisted the rest of the country followed suit.  Wilde was the public face of the Aesthetic movement that rebelled against conservatism and Victorian morality.  While hugely popular he was also profligate with both money and in behaviour, and even his high profile couldn't keep him from being prosecuted for homosexuality, given his relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie).  After two years of hard labour in prison he was broken, and died three years later from meningitis.  Like Turing, another gifted individual gone before his time, destroyed by the conservative society of the age.

From his bedroom we look out over Merrion Square Park.  Originally a private park available only to residents, Wilde witnessed children from the slums by the river being refused entry by the park wardens.  This gave him the idea for The Selfish Giant.

Out in the park there's a pillar with some of Wilde's witticisms.

Pauline's favourite?  "Most people are other people".

There is now a Giant's Garden children's playground.  Yay!  All public signs in Dublin are bilingual, with Gaeilge accompanying the English.

After lunch we head for the north side of the river, closer to the port than we've been before.  We see Ireland's national symbol again - officially the Samuel Beckett bridge.  The leaning building beside it is the Convention Centre.  It was designed to visually complement the Harp bridge as it's colloquially known.

On the northern riverbank is another heart-rending representation of the Great Famine.

The Jeanie Johnston was one of many coffin ships that transported over a million Irish over the Great Famine period.  We tour a modern replica.

Conditions were brutal inside with appalling sanitary conditions, and five people or more to a bunk.

And minimal rations to last a week

Over a 6-8 week voyage to the USA or Canada, many died, hence the name coffin ships.  Remarkably, the Jeanie Johnston had no fatalities due to an enlightened owner, captain and diligent ship's doctor.

The adjacent EPIC museum gave us an excellent AV overview of Ireland's history.  Ireland has endured centuries of English colonisation starting from the Tudor period in the 1500s.  Cromwell's arrival in the 1600s, the massacres at Drogheda and Wexford, and confiscation of lands heightened enduring grievances that continue to shape Irish identity.  It's no surprise that Irish revolutionaries finally threw off the shackles of colonial rule between 1916 and 1921.  However the mainly Protestant north opposed the Republican movement and chose to stay in the UK as they were more economically aligned with England.

Time to return to the BnB.  It hasn't started raining yet, so we'll walk it rather than taking the tram.  It'll only take an hour.  15 minutes later...

Too late to find a tram stop.  We shelter under an awning for 20 minutes while the worst passes over, then make a run for it.  That's another 20,000 steps to add to the tally.

A little keepsake from Oscar Wilde's house, and I just can't stop the tears rolling down my cheeks.

So that wraps up Dublin.  A great city to visit, and at no time did we feel anxious for our safety.  Mind you, on the advice of our taxi driver we didn't go to Talbot St north of the river.  That's clearly where all the danger lies.

Tomorrow we're off to the interior.  Stay tuned.