A Taste of Ireland

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

I'm waxing nostalgic for Ireland.  This blog post begins a short series of stories I wrote about my travels and experiences there and my reflections after returning home. 

It was li'll Tommy O'Reilly who showed us a wee bit of Ireland--just a taste of Ireland as he was prone to remind us--on our jaunt to the isle of 40 different shades of green.

On Day 1 we stepped out of the plane into the 1950's decorated arrivals hall of the Dublin airport with its ancient vinyl-covered furniture and a 1980's vintage computer long ago parked in the hallway. After grabbing our luggage, we set out in search of the CIE tours desk, where, after waiting a while and checking out the airport book store (where the newest tale of Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, sat with its England-version cover), we first met little Tommy O'Reilly and secured a ride to our downtown hotel.

After a sleepless flight overnight to Ireland, we found ourselves catching a snooze in the elegant lobby following a snack of tea and club sandwiches. Then after settling into our room at the Burlington Hotel on Upper Leeson Street, we headed out on a tour of Dublin.

Dublin City or "Duvlin" as it used to be called means "Black Pool." But don't call it that today. Accompanied by a local guide named Maura (Mary), Tommy drove our tour bus through the impossibly narrow streets to show us all of the local sites of interest. We toured the Dublin Castle where the State Apartments are located and where many historic governmental events have taken place. The mirror room of the castle reminded me vaguely of the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles; though beautiful, it was not nearly as opulent.

Looking out the back windows and past the castle garden (which serves as a heli-pad), one would swear to be in London as the flats and buildings all around look just like those across the Irish Sea. This shouldn't come as a surprise as Ireland was highly influenced and dominated by Great Britain for over 800 years until she demanded independence in the late 1920s. Much of the culture, certainly the English language which is prominently spoken, and many aspects of the architecture of Ireland derive from Great Britain.

Next we headed to the Guinness Storehouse at St. James Gate for a tour and a taste of the famous black stout. A thimble full was as much as I could handle but the nearly 360 degree panoramic view of Dublin from the 6th floor bar was the main attraction of interest to me at Guiness.

Later that evening we met for a drink in the hotel bar and then headed out for a show at a local cabaret. The headliner was Ireland's popular Tony Kelly and a comedian (who did a fantastic medley of Bing Crosby tunes).  They were complimented by dancers and a woman named Lou with a lovely voice.

Tony had definitely let his headliner status go to his head. He was the biggest over actor I have ever seen! He would fall backwards after every song as though it was all he could do to stay on his feet after giving such a dramatic, intense performance. This was followed by a wipe of his brow as if to tell us that he had really worked himself up on that one. Dan and I agreed that Tony should be a lounge act on a cruise ship. Our meal during the show featured a delicious salmon dish, the first of two great salmon meals we enjoyed in Ireland. Following the show, we were treated to Irish coffee, a mixture of coffee, booze, and cream served hot in a wine glass. Not my cup of tea, but certainly enjoyed by our dinner companions, lovely Londoner Maureen and her 80+-year-old Irish-born mother who found her Irish coffee quite enjoyable.

Back at the hotel, sleep was our top priority and that we did. Once I put my head down, I didn't move until the alarm sounded to get up and ready for breakfast. Following our breakfast of a buffet of typical English/Irish breakfast items like porridge, black and white pudding (blood pudding), and baked tomatoes and sausages, we headed out. But first, we couldn't resist snapping pictures of each other in the front yard of the hotel with its lush foliage including palm trees. Who would have expected palm trees in Ireland?

As we left the hotel, Tommy kept up his near non-stop tale of Ireland's history, jokes, singing, and other stories. But, Tommy knows his customers. He knows when to talk and when to shut his gob.

Tommy pointed out the colorful front doors of Dublin. He offered two tales (from which we were free to take our pick) as to why painting one's front door one of a myriad of bright hues is so popular in Dublin. The first story involved a drunken husband who claimed he had wandered into the home and bed of his neighbor's wife because he could not tell apart the near identical row houses. Painting of the doors would help to guarantee that the same "mistake" could not be repeated. The second tale involved a collective nose thumbing by the Irish after the death of England's Queen Victoria when all of Ireland received a directive to paint their doors black in a sign of mourning. Me thinks the later story is probably closer to the truth of the matter. But, whichever story you accept, you will not find more colorful doors anywhere on earth than those that greet you in Dublin City.

As we traveled through the beautiful countryside, Tommy explained one way that Ireland is changing drastically. The hot economy, called the "Celtic Tiger" is causing a rapid increase in housing values in cities. This is forcing many of the young and newlyweds to build outside of town and commute into the city and having a dramatic impact on Ireland in many ways. Outside of Dublin and elsewhere, we noticed many new housing projects. I suspect the small island of Ireland will not look the same ten years from now if the current trend continues.

On our way to Cashel and to Blarney, we passed through rich horse country. Tommy explained that the limestone in the soil helps put a large amount of calcium into the grasses from which the horses feed. This in turn gives the horses strong bones.

The highlight of our morning was a visit to a sheep farm where we took tea and scones and then watched Rose, the sheep dog, round up her charges in the pasture. She was a real work dog.

At lunch time we arrived at Blarney Castle.