Dublin, part 2

Day 3

I started the day with a run to Phoenix Park, because one has to work off the pints somehow. I'm drinking at least a pint a night here. Scandalous!

Once again, we left the flat just before noon, and as soon as we hit the streets it was raining. Such a thrill. We proceeded to the National Museum Natural History Museum. The "Dead Zoo," as it's called here, is a Victorian-era, dead-animal museum, with more taxidermy than you have ever seen in one place. I mean, taxdermied elephants, giraffes, rhinos, and sunfish. The first floor is Irish animals, including skeletons of these now-extinct Giant Irish Deer, which, the docent emphatically explained, are NOT moose.

Giant Irish Deer!

The second floor contained animals of the world, including a row of skeletons from human to simian, and more species of bats than you knew existed. There was a slightly unsettling but super interesting display involving a human and a horse, each half skeleton, half taxidermied skin (the human, thankfully, was half blank plaster on its non-skeleton side). The African mammals were enormous, and you could see the careful incisions and stitching along their bottom halves where their insides were removed. Each animal had a little card indicating when they were, ahem, prepared, and they were all from the 1890s or 1910s, 

Henry is not impressed by the tiger

Henry was very impressed by the Dead Zoo until halfway through the first floor, when he got a ringing in his ear and was certain it meant he was about to pass out. It was probably just the transition from freezing rain to stuffy dead animal rooms, and maybe it was also the dead animals, but we couldn't spend much time getting fresh air as it was POURING rain, so we dragged him through the rest of the exhibits, which is why he appears so angry at the dead animals. He perked up at the porcupines, but I don't have a picture of that.

[Side note: We found a phalanx of news photographers waiting outside the government building directly beside the Natural History Museum, so we asked what they were milling about for. Apparently, former Prime Minister Bertie Ahern was arriving shortly for a hearing on his bank bailouts. Had we been more patient, we could have perhaps caught a glimpse of old Bertie, but our tolerance for pouring rain only goes so far.]

The kids were tired after all the rain walking and dead animals, and it was only by promising something at the gift store that we lured them to the Museum of History and Archaeology around the corner, where we saw the Tara Brooch and many other brooches and also a medieval Irish cross purported to contain a piece of the True Cross, and that ended up being Henry's favorite thing we saw. Perhaps he has a calling.

We then sped through the Medieval Ireland, Viking Ireland, and Egyptian exhibits. The Egyptian exhibit had nothing to do with Ireland, but they had several mummies, and really, do you need a reason to show off mummies? You do not.

Meghan, Amelia, Molly, and Henry

On the way home we passed the statue of Molly Malone. I think I had heard somewhere that selling cockles and mussels was only her day job, and that at night she was turning on the red light. However, I had no idea she was so amply endowed. ("She looks like she's keeping oranges in there," Henry mused.)

We went to an Indian restaurant for dinner, at Simon's request, and it was not fantastic. Will later explained that for whatever reason, there are very few Indians in Ireland, which explains why our waiter was actually Bangladeshi.

Day 4

This was our second attempt at seeing the prison. Dragging everyone out of bed is always a challenge, but we were  up and showered and dressed and fed before 11 (this is quite a feat when everyone is sleeping until 10). Then there was a bit of a wait for Gerry, our taxi driver (he's the Hyde driver out here, too). By the time we got to the jail it was 11;30, and the line for the jail wrapped around the courtyard and onto the sidewalk. Worse, the sign indicated that the next available tour wasn't until 2 p.m., and we were meeting Will and his perfect family at the zoo at 1. So we did not buy tickets, a fact which still fills me with regret. Instead we had lunch at a space-age-looking bar and restaurant at the Hilton across the street.

[I know what you're thinking: "Couldn't you buy tickets ahead?" But it is only same-day sales, only sold at the jail itself.]

Amelia was much aggrieved at missing the jail AGAIN. For whatever reason, that was the site she was most interested in seeing. "I just like jails," she mourned.

Henry is stoked

Fortunately for my blackening clouds of parental guilt, the zoo was exactly what we all needed. Not only was every animal out and about--elephants, baby elephants, rhinos, red pandas, rhinos, hippos, snow leopards--but we were with Will, Claire, Lucia, age 10, and Hugo, age 7 (Sam, age 12, was at a tennis match, and at any rate felt too mature for the zoo). As much as I'm sure my kids love spending family time, they were starving for interaction with their own kind. Also starving for room to run and be loud.

Henry immediately paired off with Hugo, Amelia with Lucia. They ran, they yelled, they laughed uproariously over pooping animals.

Then we retired to Will and Claire's amazing Georgian townhouse with their brand-new kitchen for tea and cake. She had a fresh pear tart in the fridge waiting for us, because she's Claire the pretty doctor who is gracious and funny and who has pear tart around for afternoon guests ("I didn't bake it myself!" she confessed, and thank goodness because my fragile self esteem couldn't have stood it.). The grown-ups talked while Henry and Hugo played FIFA on the Xbox (close to Henry's idea of heaven) and Amelia and Lucia watched the end of Cinderella, which had been cut off on our flight over due to our shorter-than expected flying time. 

And that was Dublin! We had pasta at home for dinner, and I went for a solo walk along the Liffey that evening. I ran to the Jervis shopping mall in the morning (Maura, they have a Zara AND a Topshop!). I told Simon again and again that I could LIVE here in Dublin for a year or two, if only to hear the accents and shop at Zara and be friends with Will and Claire. Simon responds with his little chuckle that means it will never happen.

We made one last attempt at the prison Saturday morning, but it was sold out until way after noon, and we had a several-hour drive to Bantry ahead in our fancy rented Peugeot.  As we left Dublin, Simon pointed out that one of us could have gone and bought tickets at 8:30 for the 11 a.m. tour, and that was a splendid idea that arrived a bit late. Truly, it wouldn't be a vacation without the lingering nausea of regret.

Next entry--Bantry Bay!

Dublin, Part 1

I'm very fond of Dublin already. There are lots of colorful, lacquered doors and colorful, lacquered pubs. There is music everywhere--some Irish music in the pubs, a lot of good-looking young men playing guitar and soulfully singing KFOG's playlist. One guy in a horse head and Super Mario overalls playing video game themes on a keyboard.

And it rains here! Brilliant.

Day 1

We arrived in Dublin late Tuesday morning, and were at our apartment by 1 o'clock. We're at StayCity apartments, sort of a corporate housing deal, and it's sparse. But fine! We actually have a great view, WiFi, and cable TV, and we're a block from the Liffey, just across the Ha'penney Bridge from Temple Bar.

Our view

Simon expounded on the need for all of us to stay awake until bedtime, and the kids and I took a two-hour nap anyway, because unlike Simon, none of the rest of us can sleep sitting up on the plane.

We ate Italian food that night, which was ridiculous, but close. We slept like stones until about 3:30 a.m., at which point Amelia and I had some warm milk and looked at maps for an hour until we could fall asleep again.

Day 2

The double-decker, hop-on-hop-off bus was fantastic, and I plan to do one every time I'm in a new city. You get an overview of everything, and then when you don't have time to visit it all, at least you've seen it. 

Here we are on the bus. I saw this picture and said, "I'm a lot better looking in my head," to which Simon replied, "That's a GREAT picture of you!" And now I feel bad about myself. (The correct answer, of course, is "That's just a bad picture--you look MUCH better in person.")

Henry and Meghan on the bus

We only ended up hopping off at St. Stephan's Green. After much prodding, the kids finally decided they were not actually too cool for the playground, and then it took forever for us to get them out of there. Then we ate lunch at Starbucks. To be fair, we stopped in for bathrooms and a cup of coffee, and then realized while in line that we hadn't had lunch. But still, Starbucks? We are really the worst possible tourists. 

We had planned to see the jail (the gaol), but tours were sold out by the time we got there. This is what happens when you don't leave the apartment until noon.

That night we met Simon's colleague Will and his family in Temple Bar for drinks and dinner.There was actually some confusion because Simon thought he said THE Temple Bar, so we went there for a pint and wondered where they were. 

Happy Meghan, sad Henry at The Temple Bar

The Temple Bar was awesome, and there was a duo playing/singing traditional Irish ballads, and a few young women singing along tearfully throughout the bar. I even let the kids get a Coca-Cola. (The caffeine came back to haunt us at bedtime. Note to self: never again with the Coke.)

In spite of the soda, the kids HATED The Temple Bar. Henry's eyes started welling with tears even before our drinks arrived. "It's too loud!" he wailed (to which Simon replied, "If it's too loud, you're too old," and that was not at all helpful).

So I sat in the Temple Bar alone, while Simon took the noise-sensitive children outside, because you can drink on the sidewalk, too.

Finally, Will and this wife and three kids arrived, and not only were his children dressed nattily in collared shirts and seersucker shorts, while Henry and Amelia were in jam-stained T-shirts, but immediately after introductions, Amelia turned to Henry and loudly proclaimed, "I'm going to punch you in the balls!" Everything they've heard about American children was proved true within 30 seconds of meeting.

Fortunately, Hugo, Will's youngest, threw much of his banana split on the floor during dessert, so that made me feel better.

Did I mention that Claire, Will's wife, is a doctor? So it was just an evening of inferiority all the way around.

The Flight

Ready for take-off

In spite of some concern the night before we left that we could possibly die a fiery death on the flight to Heathrow, everyone was very excited and ready with individual neck pillows on take-off.

The flight was mostly fine. No one slept, but there were enough portable video game systems and books that it was OK with me. It would have been perfect, but about 20 minutes from landing, Henry sat up, wide-eyed, and said "I don't feel good!" And before you could punch open a vomit bag, he spewed repeatedly on himself and Simon (Amelia and I were spared, hence my rating of the flight as "mostly fine.")

The flight attendants were no help, because they were by that time secure in their jump seats, so we were left to wipe the boys down with those flimsy airline blankets and a handiwipe left over from dinner.

After vomiting so prolifically, Henry felt better, enough so that he was able to consume a Tayto crisp sandwich (potato chips on buttered white bread) on the flight to Dublin.

As for customs and security, all went through easily except for me. I beeped going through the metal detector, which required two body scans, because apparently the slightly shiny threads in my t-shirt messed with the scanner. After I was subjected to a full-body, under-the-underwire pat-down--I was next in line after the woman in the full burqa (no joke)--they let me go.

Welcome to the Eurozone!